Hi diary, it's me Larry. We have had a long and conveluted relationship, but I thought if I made ammends here, on live internets, we could reconcille sic and learn to make the most of our diffrences. I know it's hard, always being looked at, a twin so to speak, of our innermost excellence. Diary, can I write you a letter?

Dear Diary,
How goes it?
My life is a crucible of errors. A discreete windmill of vertigo and strife. Well, strife is a BIG word. As a white caucasiAN} in the /USA in 199- oh sorry, 2005, well, playing the strife card in 2005 is weak as a white caucasian in te ///park c=ty Utah I live in. So any love interests, diary? There is this girl at my work whoi I want to snag. Damn it, she's probably like 220 poundds, but I want to go there. Girls I have dated have said I was a chubby chaser, and I venemently denied it, of course- it was always in the womans' personal critique defense. Hell, maybe I am a chubby chaser, at least I'm not striveing after Mary Kate Olsen or Paris Hilton. Would it even be sexually exciting to have either of those 2 blow u? Do men need to make more money than their mate to possess sexual prowess, or does it depend on the pocketbook? I hope it's the former, diary.
Dear diary, do you ever have statuses or borders- no high water marks that you create, that you need to strive to? I do, I need to put out a CD and tour. As ADC? Yes, we is ADC. Well when will that be done? Within the next 60 days. A real ADC CD I can buy? Yes. With a cover and anything/everything? Correct. This won't be some CD bernt in a yokels' CD burner. Nope, real CD's. Real tour. [which will B Larry solo]
I love life. Life loves me. For eternety. sic Hmm, getting laid, and touring. Both hold high priority in my peanut mind. I'm in a Jiffy to get some action. Owch. Hi diary, can you feel me cry? Can you control my sobs when I bend into a fetal position and sob as if I were five again?
Of course not! Yor not some monkey in a lab diary! Not some monkey that could control a robotic limb with his thoughts. Heh. Let's get real.
Hi diary, it's me Larry. We have had a long and conveluted relationship, but I thought if I made ammends here, on live internets, we could reconcille sic and learn to make the most of our diffrences. I know it's hard, always being looked at, a twin so to speak, of our innermost excellence. Diary, can I write you a letter?

Dear Diary,
How goes it?
My life is a crucible of errors. A discreete windmill of vertigo and strife. Well, strife is a BIG word. As a white caucasiAN} in the /USA in 199- oh sorry, 2005, well, playing the strife card in 2005 is weak as a white caucasian in te ///park c=ty Utah I live in. So any love interests, diary? There is this girl at my work whoi I want to snag. Damn it, she's probably like 220 poundds, but I want to go there. Girls I have dated have said I was a chubby chaser, and I venemently denied it, of course- it was always in the womans' personal critique defense. Hell, maybe I am a chubby chaser, at least I'm not striveing after Mary Kate Olsen or Paris Hilton. Would it even be sexually exciting to have either of those 2 blow u? Do men need to make more money than their mate to possess sexual prowess, or does it depend on the pocketbook? I hope it's the former, diary.
Dear diary, do you ever have statuses or borders- no high water marks that you create, that you need to strive to? I do, I need to put out a CD and tour. As ADC? Yes, we is ADC. Well when will that be done? Within the next 60 days. A real ADC CD I can buy? Yes. With a cover and anything/everything? Correct. This won't be some CD bernt in a yokels' CD burner. Nope, real CD's. Real tour. [which will B Larry solo]
I love life. Life loves me. For eternety. sic Hmm, getting laid, and touring. Both hold high priority in my peanut mind. I'm in a Jiffy to get some action. Owch. Hi diary, can you feel me cry? Can you control my sobs when I bend into a fetal position and sob as if I were five again?
Of course not! Yor not some monkey in a lab diary! Not some monkey that could control a robotic limb with his thoughts. Heh. Let's get real.
http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=97&ncid=97&e=5&u=/hsn/20050218/hl_hsn/monkeyscontrolroboticarmwithbrain

Well, te real fun started when I lit a huge bonfire, only to have to put it out with my own piss after playing some GOOD gin rummy. Damn, I was ON. So has every-one got laid, diary? You must know, you are 'the diary'. Hopefully everyone got some tail. Jumpin' Jesus on a cross knows I haven't. It's so pathetic when you are thirty and know that your stupid latent teenage horemonies are just leading you on a life of jerking-0ff in the shower to a fucking Ashlee Simpson silouette. And that girl has n\No nnnnooooooo talent!
Listen, ladies, it's just that the shower offers that extra burst of liquid, lightness. A hole new experience in self-fulfillment. The at times light, yet at times hard, hot, stemy water droplets that fling themselves out of the spicket that screws onto the head of the shower pipe in my low-rent apartment, well they could give you a slight tingle in that southern forest you all keep annexed to yourselves, the veritible EDEN of the male psyche.
Food. Heh, heh. A veritible limitless income of carbs. Anyone see anything inspireing of late? Diary? Eh, you've failed me diary, all posing, no reaction. Anyone else excited to bountain bike this Fall? Eh, me neither, but if I were to participate in a competitive, group assembly type thingy, it would be mountain [hyphen] biking. I like how you lose the 'e' there in the active use of the verb. So I'm sitting here in northern Utah, dear diary, alone in the cold, vast, wasteland they held the 2002 Olympics in. How, why, dear sweet Jeeeeeeeeeezzzus, WHY? The grey, steamy, limitless clouds part on the nifty clouds the 'Lord' brought down upon this quaint, picture-esce, NoRmAl landscape we viwe, dear diary.
Are you with me here, diary?
This shit can get tricky.

Past the blue carbon based shrieking lifeforms in the vats I stumbled upon a new disblief. Here on opposite sides of the fire ringed laboratory were buried twelve humans, labled in right to left, from twelve o'clock, 'I was in boy scouts, bitch!' over to seven o'clock. As for nightlife, we witnessed damaged upturned china bowls, some emitting a horid sound, not unlike a swallow in a hornets nest, and seemingly NEW Toyota Camerys from 1997. "Goddam, diary!" I spoke.
But you all heard that. How can a man float from blue carbon based lifeforms to WEBELO ring of fire, well you gots me. I can't understand it neither, big D.
So big D, how's it hangin'? Bush is president, the guy I voted against . . . Alberto Gonzalez has been appointed our new attorney general, Rumsfield is still sitting in his catbirds' seat. What could go wrong, dear Diary, what could possibly go wrong? Life is great latley, I have only two things to say: Number one, thank the corporations for thier unyealding support in the enhanceining of human endeavors.
Thanks, guys.
And thanks, again to all the gun makers, liqour swillers, petty burglars, and Enron CEO's; this bud's for you. Crack one open, you stinky swine, please, have of taste of poverty.
Ahh, back to normalicy, me be hungry. Blue, that is the coulor tonight. Today, HST killed himself, I am making a memorial post. Sleep tight, HST.
All, new music is coming, LOTS in the tunnel, coming straight at you. Demos, new releases, and live concerts and video.
After seeing 8 - Mile on VH1 this week, I am ready to rumble.
You know M n' M rocks! He's so grrreat!, I can't get enough!
*Altering frequency transmission*

oh, here's Adventure:

http://www.simmphonic.com/programming/flash.htm

This peice o' crap Macintosh Powerbook G3, apperently can't handle, coulor text or, god forbid, pictures!
/Bleh
Dear diary,
bleh