I've even raped and killed a mountain panda in the hills of Shaanxi.

Like most fucking pussy ass faggy writer chaps, I actually enjoy the works of Shakespeare. On a whim in the YA section I pulled out a book called Joker by Ranulfo. His author's bio on the back flap contains "blah blah blah" quite a bit, and the Modern Hamlet structure also pulled me in. This morning I was in a mood to rival athe Black Prince, so I pulled it out and read it all in one sitting. (It's just under 200pgs.) The lead character, Matthew, is quite mad after his best friend is killed in an arsonist attack and his dad's best friend seduces his mom. The madness takes the form of - in my opinion - an alternate personality called the Joker. The Joker turns this model Australian boy into an unemployed angry layabout who wants to destroy the world if he can't destroy himself. Or something like that.

I remember a newspaper story about a Czech who always wanted to visit Sydney, scraped and stinted to pursue his dream down under. Years of hard work and sacrifice finally brought him to his goal. A dream comes true. A week after arriving as he strolled down a street in Woolloomooloo, admiring the blue gem of Sydney Harbor, a stranger with an axe pounced on him and opened his head like a grotesque flower.

I must go to Sydney. Maybe a man with an axe is waiting for me.

Oh neurotic people.

[Poll #717812]

oh, I'm sure I told a lot of you, but uberjeep is freakin' amazing.

"You can tell a schizophrenic’s room because the radio is always on at low volume to drown out the voices, there is often a fairly organic smell and they sleep with their boots on in case they have to run away quickly."

So I ride the bus every morning and every afternoon at the same time. Well, more often the same time in the afternoon, I'll grant you. Anyway, it strikes me as odd that I pretty much never ever see the same people on the bus from day to day, even at my own bus stop. Or maybe, just maybe, they're totally indistinctive from each other. I mean, once I saw a girl reading at my stop in the morning, and I saw her on the afternoon bus too, but that was it.

A couple days ago I saw a severely retarded girl on the bus. She resembled my sister, but like I said, worse. Downs' people make me feel itchy in my soul, because I love my sister but I'm honestly the type of person who thinks she should have been aborted. But, she's really very mildly retarded, and apparently loves to save up money to buy Friends DVDs. So you know, we have something in common. But this girl, on the bus, was very unlike my sister. In appearance anyway. First of all, she had her mouth open the whole time. In high school I realized this was the quickest way to be branded a retard. And of course she had those big round-slanted eyes and a fat round moonface. My sister has a cute cute B[mylastname] button nose, but this girl had like, my roommate's nose but twisted. I felt sick to my heart looking at her, as I always do.

Yesterday, though, I was in for a treat. Middle-aged Crazy Goth Man was sitting across from me. He had flames tattooed on both sides of his face, a silver dangly earring that looked like the biohazard symbol, and a dark black cowboy hat that looked western but not country. He wore a leather motorcycle jacket underneath a big black trench coat, or maybe it was a duster. And of course black pants going into big huge gothy black boots. A real Winnar, as it were. The creamy filling to this guy was what he held in his hands: a brown paper envelope with the label "SOCIAL SECURITY ADMINISTRATION."

When tweaked out on cold medication, do not read nutso conspiracy fantasy.