I’m taking a poll, vote, guess ….
Hi Trillian !! I really have to say this to every one because it is one of the biggest pains in my ass of my life!!
WOULD EVERY STOP MISPELLING MY NAME ??? FIRST OR LAST IT SEEMS EVERY MISPELLS IT!!!! It really bothers me when people do this and its bad when people mispell it but at school and even my friends call me Crystal or Carol instead of Christine !!! Ok people !!! My FIRST NAME IS CHRISTINE !!! Not Carroll!!!! And its spelled C-A-R-R-O-L-L !!!!! Ok ??? I’m sorry for “yelling” But my REAL name is Christine Carroll… its on all my posts and you see it all the time and if by some chance I know any of you from my town or something …. please please please!!! My name is christine !!!! Call me by it!!!!
Thanks !!! I really sorry for having to write this post but it’s a real bother to me and I wanted to get this off my chest! [img]http://www.sadgeezer.com/ubb/smile.gif[/img] [img]http://www.sadgeezer.com/ubb/smile.gif[/img]
——————
“to err is human” or is it “the air is human” ?? matt Gideon “Crusade”
“Look for me by the moonlight-
Watch for me by moonlight-
I’ll come to thee by the moonlight,
though Hell should bar the way”
——-The Highwayman
Excerpt from “Exquisite Corpse” by Poppy Brite
“Late in the year,New Orleans still has its hot days. In the slave quaters, Jay and Tran blossomed like the giant stinking carrion-flowers that grow in humid jungles. Their ravaged abdomens swelled and burst like red-petals, a jubliee of rot. Their putrescent fluids pooled on the concrete floor and in the hollows of their disintegrating bodies. …Their faces, c**** and B**** grew into shapeless masses of blackened flesh. Swollen tongues like ball gags forced their jaws wide. Organs tumbled out of their bodies like distended winebags. From their decomposition rose wisps of steam and soft wet sounds of gaseous intimacy….Tran fell out of his binding straps and melted slowly into Jay’s ribcage. A large, faintly iridescent stain ate up the concrete floor around them. Their eyes were black caverns.They gave birth to worms, generation after generation, until their bodies were covered as if in a living blanket. Soon they were picked clean, their bones an ivory sculpture-puzzle shining in the dark, waiting to tell their mute love story.