inactive-list [2018-04-29 20:32:36 +0000 UTC]

Your death has been noted.

Please remain still while your inactive account is collected.

Thank you for your existence.

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tyhtrnoqu [2008-08-02 06:03:57 +0000 UTC]

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static-tmg [2007-10-02 15:12:12 +0000 UTC]

The final coincidence: one day after the arrival of the journal containing both the remarkable announcement that the 1985 Israfel Society Conference had been transferred from Baltimore to Beaunos Aires, my cat Aleph died. Not from any discernable cause, but merely out of consideration for the old bachelor who had taken him in. Aleph was the only obstacle to my making the trip, beacuse, now that my Aunt Raquel had gone into a home, there was no one I could leave him with. Aleph's death convinced me not to miss the never-to-be-repeated opportunity. Yet his all too convienient demise failed to arouse my suspicions.

Everything that happened to me in Buenos Aires I owe, in some way, to Aleph's death. Or to geographical destiny. Or to the God behind the God who moves the God who moves the players who moves the pieces and begins the round of dust and time and sleep and dying in your poem, Jorge. Or to the designs of an ancient plot set in motion exactly four hundred years ago in the library of the King of Bohemia. Or merely to the trapped animal's unconscious feelings of respect for a well-made trap and a desire not to disappoint the person who went to so much trouble to set it...

My role is to see, describe and, now, write about what I saw. Someone or something is using me to untangle the tangled plot over whose direction I have as little influence as the pen has over the poets who wield it, or man over the gods who manipulate him, or the knife over the murderer. A plot whose denouement lies in your hands, Jorge.

Or should I say "in your tail".

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todyfumi [2007-09-07 10:09:31 +0000 UTC]

Holla back to Yasmine

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oakydoak [2007-09-06 22:04:39 +0000 UTC]

sorry.

i spent half my evening trying to get to 3333 page views to appease luke or anyone else with a palindrome/repeated number fetish. why i'm sorry i'm not sure.

continue forth!

p.s. you might get a favourite... i'm rather aroused... by the pictures, obviously.

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nakhilisonfire [2007-08-27 14:23:59 +0000 UTC]

its like mother fuckr. DO NOT WANT



OM NOM NOM NOM!

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feedmyaddiction [2007-08-21 11:32:51 +0000 UTC]

Hey! You seem to be really busy nowadays huh? Busy busy Robin. Too busy to reply my message hmmmm!! What's up? We miss you here in Sri Utama!

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adriano10 [2007-08-04 11:11:42 +0000 UTC]

hi there.. cool gallery.. sammy here, feel free, check my new Jennifer Aniston >> [link] << thanks
im not a spammers

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mortobesaid [2007-07-20 05:44:13 +0000 UTC]

Hey there....so i saw u again today but I didn't rly hv the guts to say hi or even smile. maybe i should've. sorry. so, how r u?

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static-tmg [2007-07-18 10:45:22 +0000 UTC]

"As was natural, this inordinate hope was followed by an excessive depression."

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shayu1618 [2007-07-04 09:48:02 +0000 UTC]

'Aunty Singh'?
hahaha that's a good one, Robin.. ^^

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JL89 [2007-07-01 15:10:29 +0000 UTC]

are you the art teacher in UIS?

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static-tmg [2007-06-24 16:58:05 +0000 UTC]

Not to pile a whole lot of text on you or anything... but I couldn't not...

[But let us get away from food for the body, and consider food for the mind. I refer to that intellectual conversation which it is the business of the guests at a dinner-party to contribute. Not "What shall we eat?" but "What shall we talk about?" is the question
which is really disturbing us as we tug definitely at our necktie and give a last look at ourselves in the glass before following the servant upstairs.

"Will you take in Miss Montmorency?" says our hostess.

We bow to Miss Montmorency hopefully.

"Er--jolly day it's been, hasn't it?"

No, really, we can't say anything about the weather. We must be original.

"Er--have you been to any theatres lately?"

No, no, everybody says that. Well, then, what can we say? Let us try again.

"How do you do. Er--I see by the paper this evening that the Bolsheviks have captured Omsk."

"Captured Whatsk?"

"Omsk."

Or was it Tomsk? Fortunately it does not matter, for Miss Montmorency is not the least interested.

"Oh!" she says.

I hate people who say "Oh!" It means that you have to begin all over again.

"I've been playing golfsk--I mean golf--this afternoon," we try. "Do you play at all?"

"No."

Then it is no good telling her what our handicap is.

"No doubt your prefer tennis," we hazard.

"Oh no."

"I mean bridge."

"I don't play any game," she answers.

Then the sooner she goes away and talks to somebody else the better.

"Ah, I expect you're more interested in the theatre?"

"I hardly ever go to the theatre."

"Well, of course, a good book by the fireside--"

"I never read," she says.

Dash the woman, what does she do? But before we can ask her, she lets us into the great secret.

"I like talking," she says.

Good Heavens! What else have we been trying to do all this time?

However, it is only the very young girl at her first dinner party whom it is difficult to entertain. At her second dinner-party, and thereafter, she knows the whole art of being amusing. All she has to
do is to listen; all we men have to do is to tell her about ourselves.

Indeed, sometimes I think that it is just as well to begin at once. Let us be quite frank about it, and get to work as soon as we are
introduced;

"How do you do. Lovely day it has been, hasn't it? It was on just such a day as this, thirty-five years ago, that I was born in the secluded village of Puddlecome of humble but honest parents. Nestling among the western hills..."

And so on. Ending, at the dessert, with the thousand we earned that morning.]

heh.

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feedmyaddiction [2007-06-15 15:41:08 +0000 UTC]

ahem.

SILENCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hahahahhaha!

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SandGroper [2007-05-13 17:16:29 +0000 UTC]

I do not know what you think that you are on about little man. You are having some of the strangest dreams lately. Everyone of your dreams makes you its central character. You are the eye of the storm. All the action swirls around you at your whim and for your pleasure. Now, why is it that when you fictionalise your dreams on this site that you distort them so? You take yourself out of the centre and put yourself back in the shadows of your own imagination. You dream that you are idolised by a pretty girl in a white dress, and then you wake up, sit down at your computer and tell all these lovely people that you dreampt you played a game of chess and lost. Why do you pretend you wish that you were of no concequence? All this layer upon layer of lies is only serving to constrict and bind you until there is nothing left of yourself but promises. Don't you think it is STRANGE, what you are doing to yourself? Do you think that lies make you pretty? But of course, you don't want to be pretty, do you Robin. NO, that is a lie too. I have seen your dreams, and in them there is not a flaw to be found. You look at yourself in the mirror and you want to be "better" too, don't you. Stop this bullshit at once or the masks will begin to make you, my friend. And let me tell you that these are very unpleasant masks. Very unpleasant masks indeed. You are pathetic and you are terrified because someone has already figured that out. You.
Have a nice day.

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salamandre [2007-05-06 02:25:18 +0000 UTC]

Greetings o'teacher man.

I am writing of your nation land.

(I can't believe I just rhymed. I should cut myself now :S )

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kojika [2007-04-30 20:41:50 +0000 UTC]

thanks for visitng my page ^^

what an amusing journal...XD

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shayu1618 [2007-04-23 07:37:53 +0000 UTC]

Yo robin.. ahaha

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salamandre [2007-04-12 15:53:51 +0000 UTC]

Greetings from sleepy land.

Let's go for a walk sometime.

Thailand in 2008 work for you?

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theinfinatesadness [2007-04-09 18:00:02 +0000 UTC]

much laughter.

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static-tmg [2007-01-28 21:01:58 +0000 UTC]

life?

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Schoomdaddy [2006-09-25 09:44:35 +0000 UTC]

BWHAHAHA found a message in a bottle? Btw, check out social woo and love cats you cure boy.

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