Anonymous postings on Memory July 1997 to July 2001

f a m i l y s e l f e x h i b i t s

I'm sorry but I don't quite get this site. It seems pretty abstract to me. i think that was pretty kool memory is only the effect of chemical burn on your brain. a rush of activity, a rush of emotion, a rush of chemicals. all we have of who we are, for we never live in the moment for all that we have already learned outweighs our senses. headless monkey-boy head in pail walking money stands in the way of everything. it's too bad; who knows what my grandfather could have done. the times that you though were so bad then, that look so good now poop nuts pain i need not recall a system of controlled electro-chemical reactions learning selective reasoning bad ianbran@hotmail.com help me!!!!!!! Me ... on a perfect evening outside..children crying, shouting .. a dog barks ... Tears well in my eyes but I am happy. Tears well for my father, dead 15 years ... I can never share my thoughts with him. I was to young, not yet a man ... so the day turns into night. hell I was afraid... pretty sweet Is a painful baggage. It would be nice not to have memory. Because of memory, I am always living in the past and never can live hre and now. Becasue of memories of my past expereinces I am afraid to do things that I would like to. Becasue of memory, I am not living spontaneously. If there was no memory, there would be no fear, no pain, no misery.... Shocking experience fear thoughts that stimulate thy mind, thy body, and thy soul either consiously or through dreams memory is a space inside of us all a space we can hide from the place called NOW hide in the world that is long ago a world that has colour as fragrant as a drowning child forget the wasted truness of real and remember a time of dreams were will that bring us after all we only want the truth but its not that simple we want the perfect truth the pleasant truth don't lie quiet desperation of a hopeless situation People are accidents waiting to happen on the highway. no memory of mine would every need such attention, but of those who give it know that what happens is never understood until it is over looked. I'm cold and tired. Siting here wondering about school and friends or my supposed to be friends. R they real? Is any of this real. Why are we here. I can't make sense of anything. I'm tired of everyone and everything - Only the nshall she be - O n l y t h e n w i l l s h e s u r v i v e - In my heart forever love - as the tounge that binds forever spits as the hearts of anguish forever quit and only in the hearts of men can the true fowl begin FiáTzêTrreB Sad but hey thats life! God my memory is shot I don't think I have had a clear thought all year and yet I still do and yearn to do? What the hell? The world is a dreary and pathetic place. I know not of a place in which a God could truly exist and let children die of starvation, and wars happen that draws forth the true dregs of society. God is a figment of man's imagination, brought forth to ease the pain we suffer eternally. grand mother this sucks my life, as a decaying photo album of painful images, where the definition and the individual frames fade, but the damage remains always The sun has gone down, all light has disappeared, and I am again alone in the dark.... This was very disturbing and it helped me understand what people went through. My energy personality essence is not currently focused on this dimension of physical reality i am very happy wow Saddness is a vertue dark age in mind Satisfied by the Carnal Aspirations brought upon by the Magical essence of the Crysathenum...I am awakened by the Scent of a rose...... scoff fun The seeds that grow into dreams The resources with which we can build the future A cage for the soul love peace fear nostalgic warmth of events, times, places long past, a room somwhere - dark, safe, peaceful.... WOMB do you remember the womb ? was it life that was promised wrapped inside skin or death maybe a dream or two away. hi family Five. It was before the father had died in his sleep at fourty one. Five: before the pangs of plactitude had taken over, won the black heart of hearts. Five: when I was still innocent, myself and normal. Five: before that night... because all I remember is that it was dark, and all I know now, is that I am not a child anymore. no words I dream of of some truth told in life I dream of an end to the persacution by my foster family for some money that I should hve gotten The capacity to reveal to other the space and history and mind you are. history did it really happen? is it now replaying like the old indpent film in my basement? Is it in another deminsion? did it fall it the deep void of my MEMORY??? where? memory is that which you believe to be true based on your perceptions and morals, all of which are just chemicals and electrical charges in the mind random days and time are only important to those who do not use it well After after I saw what I seen in the beginning of the middle of the end and it was nicity nice Hoo ha If not for Hitler, my mothers first husband would not have died in a bomber over Germany, and my father would have married someone else and I would not have been created. the rain is my strength falling constantly to earth i am eternal. juxtaposition of emotions What we wish we could forget. untangible and so, One can never touch, feel or take them into ones hands and tear them piece by piece.. and destroy What on earth is this? something you can't forget; no matter how hard you try can i move stuff with out tuching it dreaming or awake? The mother of muses. I can never escape this tower. Everything to me. memory? my last thought alone, peacefull, birds singing, wind blowing, steam flowing, sun beaming down, animals scurrying, leaves rustling, am i worrying? a boy, wondering what lies ahead, fear? exploring, a great feeling when your 12 years old. lizardzx9@earthlink.net times of rooting past that cant be escaped cos memory, memory, locked me in my prison state... forgoten lies what my great-aunt has that my grandmother does not. yet my great-aunt is miserable, waiting for the end, my grandma oblivious and beaming. the greatest things in my life can only be remembered. make them want it! cognitive process that creates who you decide to be images from the past ourselves blood oranges on your tongue snow fills my darkness life i offer up pop tarts to the cloud gods while they play jeopardy and i drown. i need to sleep sadness i can barely see the empty kitchen from the dowstairs while i'm trying to keep all the plates in my hands, the first time i was allowed to do this… A cancer. Of all things, a cancer. multitu de imagenes que aun que se olviden permanecen con los despojos de la menta Childhood thoughts and dreams break through my trance with seemingly random finger tip touches. It's all so dificult like saltwater taffy. His hands smell like the beach. audac1ty@hotmail.com life My mamma always said life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get. My mamma always had a way of explaining things so that I could understand them. realization of ones' own existence im ganja boy i like to smoke dope it kicks ass i wish i was alone right now tragedy To me, it's something that can't be touched but can be felt - not physically, but emotionally. Poignant memories are arduous to overlook, making it seem like I'm compelled to remember it for the rest of my life. I still try my hardest to disregard them. Reminiscing about them can only give me this sick feelin to my stomach, or bring about tears to my eyes, setting off this feeling of misery throughout my whole body. Memories that make me feel like I'm on cloud nine are the ones that I want to learn by heart... to commit to my memory. To me, it's just a pattern of familiarity, whether you want to forget it or not. small and turning away Dreams are all we have sometimes We live through our dreams and wait for tomorrow In the stillness of our dreams we hear the hard cry of our desires We wait for tomorow memory is something that everybody haves but dont uses at te right time I came. I saw. I was conquered. I am cursedto know that I am cursed to be ignorant. I know knothing of what I should know of life. I have nothing of which I have reason to want I have life and in it I have no purpose of being. pain simplistic impressions of life in non-linear succession--randomly stored, randomly accessed, randomly destructive. I wonder sometimes if our main affiliation in art only comes through separation. The clashing of opinions and views fueling an intrinsic drive towards another Big Bang - only metaphysical in nature. Academia versus underground versus found art versus stray toasters versus the world versus nothing... Enlightenment. Don't fool yourself - it's only a word. It's best to forget you ever remembered having thought you found it. Really. -af19 i recall images i select significant waves of electricity when the energy in a mass of carbon(which is condensed energy)decides to leave that mass of carbon, nothing is left. i remember nothing. and what i remember is all that matters... I am lost in a land of many. warmth and sadness in equal amounts brain matrix cat past => present => future constructed fragmented reality of self ,others, of facts and unreal, of history and past, of feeling and imprint mood... futility regress comfort Anne Frank.... holocaust.... aboritions unto man.... sadness.... injustice.... hypocrisy.... concentration camps.... innocence.... appocolypse.... sadness.... The only hope for all.....JESUS the last thing to fade... the idea of god in the minds and hearts of the masses... repetition... loss... joy... broken lives... everything... good... bad... everything. all emptyness in all its fullness. beloved The enlargening of neurotransmitters in the brain which store dopamine via the action of calcium. a walk in the puddle in the middle of the pouring rain.... being hit by a cycle... no memories.... fever.... a jump in the puddle in the middle of the pouring rain... being chased.. fever.. jumping in the puddle.... splashing... wet all over... in the middle of the pouring rain....crying... memories :o).... jumping into sand.... being chased... toads!!... memories :-) rapaport very moving. EOT I felt darkness, Closing in on me. Chilling shadows, Surrounding me. I felt the poison leak into my skin, And it corroded my heart away. Blead away, Cut away. Dark night of my soul. Fear Factory -Messiah SICK IRONY SUCH A FUCKED UP WORLD WWW.233PROJECT.COM memory is a neural response to stimuli to often taken for granted by those who live only day to day. memory is the most personal and complete book in history written as howard zinn would tell the truths to those who care to listen. memory is the most important way to learn and to love. like a movie where you can skip automatically to the best parts or the worst parts, it is used to learn from mistakes and teach yourself your most important lessons. a mental hell and an immoral prison to the unrefined, but a bed of clouds to those with the gumption to remember. baby baby baby I miss you so much I want to hold you kiss you do you do you do you do you baby baby baby My whole body wants you wants you MORE more more more of you just close your eyes baby and think of me and be with me be with me be with me be with me st.prada@skim.com what Wow... (nervous laughs from a group of men-children).... dismay at our own existence..... what are we? our purposes? what will be our great turning point? our limitations? why has sobriety become our enemy? suddenly slurred words become deep thoughts.... windows blowing sheep life fun friends love heartbreaks good times reflection Instant youth and/or laughter the last thing I can feel it coming in the air tonight, its all been a pack of lies...the fire burns, doesnt matter your still a fucking liar. YOU know how you are. Games youve played, Ive played. silence Very put I felt the love of his mother and his memories put me back to my time and the thought that people must have felt in that time playing with my brother's matchbox cars in the front yard, running them along the slim dirt seam where the grass met the black tar of the curb. yesterday was unbelievable leftovers A thousand eyes murmuring blackness, carried by the cold winds Descended upon her like dark copper clouds across a late afternoon sky Illuminated by the red setting sun Her shadow was drowned out by the blackness and The floorboards creaked under the weight of her despair waking dreams covered in cold sweat, heart beating quickly - fear a search for future patterns (distillation from a german heard): [unverbesserlich] [ guilty ... not guilty ... ] he's too young [die gnade der späten geburt] but he got the taste of never to forget [... so bleibt die Erinnerung zweifelhaft] SAD limp rose petals I wish I could edit them, keep the good parts and vanquish the bad... What I can't forget, what I won't forget, something inside me that takes over and inspires me... Untouchable, unreachable, unforgettable. My prize possesion: The Brain of Hamza. Cold, fire, a being in ones self, inside of you, you possess powers and feeling you would have never thought of a humanly existence. your here. your here.......... try to get, but be carefull .......... speachless ok...... ... cold is where we imagine we existed. receive or deny with emphasis on yellowed pictures the stories of us the stories of this who is stacy peralta life can not remember.... Memory is something that stayes with you during all your life,that will help U to live and to love!!! Sometimes it bothers U I always quarelled with my brother when he was a little boy, and now I miss him very much and my memores of the bad things that I've made him not giving me to think free about him.... HAPPINESS SOMETHING I WISH I COULD touch for real. times I'm not here. dreams are a returning to all the unrealized possibilities shed by our incandescent living as we burn through the future We truely exist!!! There is no question about it! For you to believe you do not exist is silly! It's a double negative! For you to be concious and think you do not exist, you FIRST MUST EXIST! For nothing can not produce a thought of none existance. Because we think, we know we exist. And you can't prove otherwise... ;) death to self = life backwards auto destruction times of love, wanting, hateing, and distroying. hate memory po good dreams lost in the path of the un sooled the only way to remember if you still are a human being is to appreciate any kind of being; is to look after your own needs I watched basketball with my boyfriend and now what? very beautiful I would cry were it on film. But a computer terminal can be waved away... for a time. love beauty heartbroken and crestfallen are just words spoken but unheard by many people time and again and again and again and again end. I belive it was during the second worldwar.How many sad memories. hi this is scary given the fact that she wasn´t given the choice when accepted in the "art school," and consiquently, beeing offered to learn russian for purpose of translating films; she shall not interrupt her dream from realization. I shall try to realize my dream even if it seems inrealizable... an love time fading away could write a book in a matter of minutes with very little words..... and only a picture drawn existance your own interpretation of what was pain and happiness Existence night stars sadness emptyness heart broken fwfwef where's hell.com? thoughts that jar the senses Hi, I am Troy. BikeRider84@excite.com ilived in an old army beeriks where i didnt feel like i had many friends except one wich to this day i remember his name cause what happened was so dramatic in my life even though it wasnt that big of a deal it was really painful to me and not psyically. i was walking between the dull blue building of the berriks and eating an apple while thinkin of how i was missing my old home town of ashby massachusetts and i got around to my only "friend`s" house and as i came around the corner i could hear him talking with his mom and laughing so i hurried to see what he was doing. being nosey like youngins do heh and as i came around the corner i saw a blue streak then i saw a briht light in my eyes.All i could taste was blood, and it was my "friends" intention to wait for me at that corner and nail me with a ski pole and why i dont know but after that i had no friends so i felt and a week later we moved back to ashby. but i was still sad because i thought he was a friend and as a child friends are all that matters. filmic images like dreams You are really grand This kat, this little kitty, once sat on my lap, her pink nose quivering in an expression of curiousity and love. she was to me as a familiar to a Wiccan. she was to me as a woman with no life... she was my life. but that word was "was" and she is no longer. death takes all. never try to dodge it, the kat-killer comes for you, too. realization Fu Waz here! ugly little bitch something too stubborn to go away the road to immortality still jill i love you still and forever To explaine feelings in words is very hard. I believe that is why I look down upon myself and all my writeings. But I "feel" that you (who ever you are) have done an excellent job, makeing the reader (viewer) feel as you did when writeing this, when dreaming this, when living this. I thank you for allowing me to see this work. ~Saber kundera. resurrections of former self the sweetest and the most heavy luggage that I have to carry throughout my life... some pictures as a real dreams appearing in your mind, people, thoughts taiking to you from your past and you future summations In the memory all the lies that make up our true existens will allways remain to make us wonder if all we did was worth the effort our just another failure in our hell the latter half of our linear conception of time; it is an illusion, so necessarily we will lose it, piece by piece, until all that we have left are recordings of memory: symbolic representations of that which does not really exist. J`amie? ?n`aime personnes pas. Je lui regarder. Il ya n`est pas. Je reaver mais il ne vrai pas. The residue of life, weakened by time. g'day fingeez harmony degrades madness surrounds us harmony All I can think of is how badly she must feel. She wanted everything, she didn't get everything. She got nothing of which she desired. Tragedy defined. You are depreased or something sad and ever so weeping HELP ME HELP ME!!!! DREAMS OVERCOME MY MIND. MY MIND OF HATRED AND MY MIND OF ENDLESS THOUGHTS. I SUFFER BUT IM STUCK INSIDE AND I CANT GET OUT!!!!! jami and danielle good! LA VIDA ES UN MANI IT who must be KILLED!!?? passage to self food Every thing you haven't forgot yet my my my, I can see a legacy. fine when I look ahead, and when I look back I see obscurity. well, I guess I'm so hooked, therefore drop a line, help me contribute to everlasting peace and constant enlightenment. alby@thirteen.net happy and sad times Interesting. is a gift with which you build a foundation that threatens to become your whole house... Hover, look forward, glance down when you need to assess your relative distance from the past and the future... If you are sure your distance between the two has remained the same for some time, your mind is probably working without you - discover the reason... memory is not static, you don't have total control of memory, and you cannot see the future, so how is it that you are hovering? Faith? Can you remember what "faith" meant to you before you thought you had reason to doubt it? To be or not to be yet realizing the more I try to grab them tight, the more they slip away recalling the moments I've had or wish I'd had time alone... lost with thought 2 pi r squared something that i sometimes curse very good liquid thougts spurting a dream, a hallucination? reality of that which is not. contradictions and paradoxes all that make that which exists not so very, very real. time travel backwards through the fifth dimention memory is all those things i forgot. the opposite of prediction because she was like that, they treat she like that..... sister seeking sex with father and mom a faded resurrection ...de haber podido elegir mi morada lo hubiera hecho en una ciudad de carne en descomposición y huesos que se desacen pues su proximidad brinda a mi alma escalofrios de extasis, acelerando la sangre estancada en mis vena y forzando a latir mi languido corazon con jubilo delirante... H.P.L. i dont know everything is nothingness. love your pain. 1918. rajasingha. Unicorns are animals of great mystisizm. you can't have everything, where would you put it? there is no such thing as everything memories are located outside of the body, somewhere else zero there is no such thing as nothing the absence of something is nothing out of body experience hi~ ^^ yromem nothing U PEOPLE WRIGHT TO MUCH i used to think that zero was nothing Esto me hace acordar a las tapas de Type 0 Negative a blackness of no colour lack, just emptiness of being and then i continue. You all want only people to feel sorry for you. The most important person being yourself. People like you make me fucking sick. I wish I could say I wasn't like you, but I am. It's pointless to deny the absolute truth. We just want to be respected. We just want to feel happiness... even if it's only a false sense. I would trade all of my intelligence, for only a moment of true contentment. We spend our lives trying to eliminate all the negative aspects of our lives. Some only step over a puddle or two during their journey through life. I gasp for air in my sea of despair. The worst thing about this is, no one cares. They would rather watch me drown, instead of offering any help at all. In fact... most would add to my sadness, then laugh about doing so. The worst thing about this is that I know others are just like me, some even worse. This makes it very hard to feel sorry for even myself. I try not to over dramatize what I say, and to speak honestly, but I probably don't always do so. Thanks for spending the time to read my thoughts. Just another tortured soul. "Berserk" Wonderful. Verying moving. kbvibe@hotmail.com beyond reason hearing the radio from the kitchen as i awoke in the morning at my grandmother's house. passing the point. of death puts life in a beautiful perspective. time has past except in my memory and in dreams My earliest memory is of crawling on the floor. I saw a nail sticking out of the wall up ahead, but didn't think much of it. But then I crawled past and my leg scraped against the nail. I have a scar there to this day. the danger of revision, the absolute of self, solace from the world. A red Munk brung a robed body lain shouting dream heartbeats they say memories are stored the deepest in our sense of smell The end of the beguining. sueña con una habitación circular en la que no hay puertas o ventanas. Tan sólo una silla. Entonces un hombre empieza a materializarse sentado sobre la silla. Cuando se vuelve cuerpo de carne, se abre una ventana en la habitación, y una puerta. También aparecen unas ropas colgadas sobre la silla. El hombre se viste y sale... el sueño se vuelve una pesadilla con ese hombre libre de ojos salvajes caminando por las calles fuck you!!!!! Not doing as russians insist, she was killed for her disobedience to the KGB. She wished to go her own way, but was not accepted for what she wanted. Who was she? where the hell am i? this site? i have stumb;ed on it thanks to www.radiohead.com. peace. at eight i was found crying in the washrooms at school, probably lonely. some girls saw in a corner dressed all in green, developed a myth. "the green girl" was talked about for years after, maybe even still. In each life we choose a path. Whether the conscious admits it or not, everythinhg that happens to us is of our choosing. mutilation, cynotic, queeries, with the children beneath the house of insanity My aunt hung on for two more days and then died. I saw 2 hours before she did. The last thing i did was kiss her hand and press the crusafix into it. 1:30 friday morning she died. I went to her house that night w/ my family. I`ve meet cousins that crawl out of the wood work every death. I selpt over there with my cousin jamie. She lost her mother but yet she said nothing about it. Tried to talk about guyz and other shallow shit. I guess thats the only way she could handle it. But jackalin ,shes 9, she cried allot and tried to smile but cried more. My uncle jimmie was distraught and cried when my mother found a pic of her and my aunt holding me and jamie when we weree just babes. They were pregnat at the same time and were real tight. I met one of my uncles for the first time, and my godmother that i havent seen scince i was 3 years old. It isn`t right i should meet these pplz this way. I g2g to the wake now, to see her body strew in a casket. A master peice from a mortian. I hate to think of my aunt that way. I hate to think of her as someone eles masterpeice. This is very , very good work. I like it very much. He had raised [butterflies] from time to time and had often watched them emerge from the chrysalis - first a crack in the case, then a feeler, and in an hour a butterfly. He said he had felt that he wanted to help, to speed them through the long and awkward procedure; and he had once tried. The butterflies came out with extended abdomens, and their wings were balled together like miniature clenched fists. Nothing happened. They sat there until they died. shit agony life, a sense of being, a feeling of reality what it is to be alive What i rember isn`t important unless ur a part of my life. It all goes by sooo soooo quickly. And as look in to the eyes of my aunt on her death, in the hospital. W/ her children her at her hands sobing emensily. She lies there motionless, the machines the only thing keeping her alive, but she really isn`t alive, her mind is dead. My Uncle is afriad to stop the machines... hes so afriad of what might happen. Everyone is so afriad and yet no one knows why there afriad. My sisters crys and prays but she doesn`t know anything but her aunt is taking her last breaths. The praying will do the only good. Everyone prays...yet she doesn`t get better. She isn`t and everyone knoes that. Her littlest child crys and wants her mommy, for she knows also that she isn`t cooming back. That shes already dead. The whole famliy gathers to pray. My mother starts the Our Father. And I see them all there prayin and her alllready dead and I wonder is there really a God . Then I grab the cross around my neck. I weirdest sensation comes over me. I look at my aunt and I know that she gone like i`ve known all along. I really loved her and I`m goin to miss. And for the first time tears come down my face and I start to cry in front of everyone, while there still praying. I feel so vunerable. And my aunt is sooooo vunerable. I wish she wasn`t dead but she already is. les falaises de la cote normande ou nous jouions la ou des milliers etaient morts 13 ans plus tot 1957: I was innocent a memory is just a scar in the brain... why do i understand everything around me except for the ones i love? Will things work out? How will i end up? Where, With who? Is everything ment to be or is it all just bull shit happening on a day to day basis? Im scared to die alone a quiet moment, strung out among many airports, many windows, too many trains of thought... SOMEBODY save you! This is one of the most beautiful sites i have ever seen. U r bold to share ur memories how do the decisions of important people effect those little people around them? Like a giant tossing in his sleep, many houses are destoryed under their power. Will the church steeple poke him in the side? No, he'll roll right over it. and dreams are passages of unforgotten fortune! careful with ths asignment operator... ...could be a nasty bug! deceptive end Language; without which we would have less illusion of individuality. The human mind is an echo chamber, and language a drug whose hollow echoes, once heard, betray our hearts. http:members.fortunecity.com/somerreign/cbpstr.html (somerreign) good site!! god bless you~~~ a hopeful void unimaginably impossible to forfeit. Lonliness i cannot understand why i can't remember the last few years of my life and i didn't drink take drugs i just did what the doctor said and it;s left me with nothing it all seems so worthless now Very cool. An interesting use of the medium. Thank you for sharing this. EVILBOY collected conciousness plagued by what he did. i can never overcome it. youth, innocence, and hope shattered. recollection ...one drink too much and it's all bye-bye to memory interesting bits of self that have escaped memory is only what things come to you from the depths of your mind and have an impact on your current state. no matter how numb you have become, there are memories that have forced you to become this numb. i abosolutly love the images and the feel that i get from your art... i feel that i have something in common with your style..currently i am studing flash and i am a graphic designer if you care to see some of my work or can get me associated with this kind of field please write back..fotifi@aol.com memories= life= dreams= sleep= death= rebirth= living= memories sad emotion memories. making the same mistakes over and over and over and over again. getting in touch with one frustatingly shallow person and then another one and then another one. meeting girls. being sick of girls. wanting girls. getting drunk and feeling up some fucked up shallow shallow bitch. being in the right place at the right time all the time non stop. hoping for a better day tomorrow and being disappointed all over. getting loaded saturday night with strangers.waking up half drunk half sick and wondering what the hell went into me yesterday night. repeating above mentioned process ad infinitum. going to school. being sick of school. hoping for a good future job, and realizing im too plain stupid to get the job im hoping for. and it never ends it never ends never ends never ends never ever. people people are the worst thing ever created they kill other people and endanger the world i hope we all die for real every one discusts me. ALL DIE IN HELL utf lies & deceptions that producing a process called self vague and untouched. unfair, where is true love, did faith die? human relations have changed, are we still human? The impression that ilussions can somehow be stored, They will only be constructs of mind and senses and the evergoing reconstruction of the remembrance hell is great hell is grand if you disagree ill chop of your hand hell is great and heavens not jesus can suck my big fat cock The fragmented patterns of you The fragmented patterns of you what Girls Dreams Of Uncle, Dreams Of Theatre, Dreams Of Loss . . . sado paso Who cares? I sure don't. i like this site because it is so abstract...and because of its nature i want to look more into it im not sure what i should be writing here the collection of things percieved via the known human senses stored in electrical impulses. Is Jesus the Jewish Messiah, come to save humanity? Maybe I should study and find out.... millions of pictures, faces, words, trips that are somewhere deef inside of me and that get colored when i think of them. who knows if thy themself is not god ? A streaming of consciousness which has lodged itself into the mind, for later recall and enjoyment. Or Hell, as the case may be. all that makes you what you are it is dynamic sometimes a lie sometimes unwanted sometimes sorely missed freeze-frame snatches of the rose-tinted past christmas pudding and family times and all the goodness of being with those i love rewrewr memory can also be a channel of empathy to attempt to answer the question why this has happen to me. i do understand though sometimes why doesn't matter because the past cant be relived..however by remembering maybe the past won't repeat itself. I began trying not to hate my self. I tried to fit properly inside my body. I wanted my soul to swell and fill even the tips of my fingers and toes. I wanted to be graceful and I knew that my chance to learn grace had been long ago, just after my awkward stage had ended. Some moments I love my self. Once a moment lasted for two days. I was genuine and electrified and sure I could not be cast back to a sickly souled body. I've not since sustained such a reclaimation of spirit and each pure moment is cast with the memory of loss. ..... deceased thought unforgiven Still thinking of my dog with no legs...it still freaks me out to see him role arownd ourself, what we remember is what we are. a cloud of smoke which has left only a shadow of what i thought was myself thirsting, hungering hate love lust silence I know life is absurd. fragments of reality distorted by perception power Are you real? I hate my life i have nothing except for my parents that bitch at me all of the time every time i get some where sooner or later i end up right at the begining again nothing works out for me nothing on earth can change that, it will always be like this for me. Reality, fantasy, and Confabulation. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON I would like to thank you for a wonderful journey into awakeness I had a dog once .... He didn't have any legs...Mind you i was only about 8 when this happen..But any who this dog would role around the house and snort,,,,thats about all i can think of at this time, the essence of self which stops being relevant comfort i have a box if i get old...i will not give in...if i do remind me to pray...remind me that once i was free...once i was cool...once i was me Why oh why mi luvely dad did you abandon me?? In the darkness I shall wander. a link to what was, and what is now Going to sleep koi what the fuck...? an acceptance of time that story has a lot of meaning and it will get to people the way things were are horribul loss innovation exentric she sits stares sits stares that's all that's all I think I know what's going on here. ...is the living world for my moving flesh. A silent refuge amidst confusion and chaos delivered by the same flesh that inhabits the "great room". It is the most trusted friend and the best known betrayer. A smile brings it all. A cry withdraws the "should not be's". A note carries you to the Alto of your finest imaginations. And crashing waves! Eat your hopes and inspirations as such. ...is the question if it will recall me when I die. ...is the answer to how I walk this casket to the catacombs of lost remembrances. ...is the wind that sweeps one away. ...is the anchor that hooks you firm to fight. It is black but white. A hole that always begins into an opening and ends elswhere...itself could no longer comprehend! I love her, why am I fucked up for that, why does no amount of forgetting wash away the scares of the past lnx weird is an empty box. we keep it closed not to lose what we NEVER had important thoughts sadness death life happy sad truth lie Keep on developing hell pages, Congratulations! This is a very interesting place and the graphics are simply wonderfull. Your attentiion to detail and the way things are presented are simply plesent. I am so sorry I haven't looked before. I hope to see you soon Back on line I miss your game time and friendship. Sincerely Mark Pierce aka TC_Gandalf my father dies when i am 17. now i dont know who i am. What is this? If I could only go back, I would change it all.... heartbreak Pain. Soulless moths that flit around the flame of old petty hurts and dreams. Haunts of expressionless vacancy and the bitter half-truths of hindsight. Things that use to take for granted A M A N I T A M U S C A R I A made monkey evolve evil lurks... but we are strong now. bang sorrow diminishing present lying in bed, so young i don't know "bed", seeing light and green shade out my window. the shapes move in the wind. the world feels benign and whole. the trees whisper welcome. lying in bed, so young i don't know "bed", seeing light and green shade out my window. the shapes move in the wind. the world feels benign and whole. the trees whisper welcome. Regret, but a plan for the future none the less... I remember leaning over my brother's crib on Christmas Eve. "Hush little baby, don't say a word," I sang. "Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird." i remember rainfall. soft, undulating; melodic, hypnotic. low gray skies and my yellow rain boots reflecting in a shallow puddle. reflections of a lost soul, a lost cause, lost dog. I lost my life that day, and my fear of death. Moving, quiet and disturbing... not unlike a story of past pain shared with a loved one in the small hours of the morning... powerful, and lovingly related. mom and dad are coming everything I see is part of what I am light oh hoh nothing but hurt knwoledge of self of people and places of freedom and music, and dancing in new shoes... of people and places of freedom and music, and dancing in new shoes... My mom has done some atrocious things in the past, yet I love her dearly. That Drunk. That Cheater. I Love Her. your intrpretation of the past, which variates through every event of your life, which changes as new experiences are undergone, which is re-examined at times of inspiration, which is then interpreted again to beceome something new the mistery of love is grater than the mistery of dead pretty lucid I remember when I was 4 years old, living in the country and how a motorcycle and sidecar would come by each week. inside the sidecar was popcorn. stop me and buy one the sign said and I would stop the motorcycle and buy popcorn for 5 cents. I'd forget to eat the popcorn. The experience was enough. It has shaped my life. a.m. people, they're my species and they're damn strange. time love There are flies on the computer. rose petalllllllls nostalgia warped and defined time well spent. peaches are good. i have absolutely NO idea what all of this is about, it was hard to navigate, confusing, but then again, i still took the time to look thru and read it. I'm just gonna go and look elsewhere on the site, and hope that it will give me more insite into what message you are trying to get across, or what's going on. bad thoughts Memory is a form of reality made by each person to difine the past and the present. hi i think u stink Quicker the loss, the happier..... time past, thoughts provocked by images flashed. only what we think to be true yet can exist as another point of existance remaining still among rushing clouds of everything else trying ot reach their unobtainable goal forever wasteing away into oblivian dost dobreeeee Touching.... How to feel?? .... wow. weird this is pretty creepy but i respect you r memories. Interesting!!!! fascinating! Registration a sad reminder of the past Pretty damn fucked up every self-indulgant non-movement at a quantum-reality level The ephemeral glimpses of our own personal Truth--the only real Truth. simultaneous multiple life realizations Jep, hienoa existance thoughts I stumbled across this website and just want to write to whoever reads this (maybe author/web designer?) A very enticing story of events and your words hold suspense and deliver powerful emotions - i feel this only happens because i can relate, ( sad to think so, in a way) i can relate, BUT, how can i? I live an entirely different culture! THis is what i find most wonderful about your page - you have kept the human into being And this is why we should all relate Memories are cold rememberances of the past... All the colors of the california house, tree browns and faded lime greens were swirling about. I had died and gone to buzzing colors. And every image my eyes had ever held was playing over and over in the mosaic. The dull, bumpy linolium I would run my little fingers over. The patterned carpet, the Balinese shadow puppets whose twisted bodies fortold of things to come. All blinking and streaming in and endless circle-dance. Endless patterns, the daysmonthsyearsand doWN into micro seconds where tritium is born and dies before it even has gravity. It is the magic of who I am, no longer. la vida esta lleno de sufrimientos i feel the song inside me things that are no more. silence Memory is the images our mind percieves to be past presences but all in all it is not that it is the past but more of a mirror of the future...i would like to get in touch with no such some of the higher ups i like their work and yours also cjk82682@hotmail.com dont send trival nonsense respond!! life memories don´t change ,but ur undertstanding, ur thinking of good or bad.. pain flickers of light, remembered me [story invokes feelings] Reliving the past that I wish I could forget. Amnesia would be welcome if only there were guarantees. Why do things, from the mundane to the sublime, trigger points in our lives that are as painful to remember as they were to experience? A name, birthday, smell, or sound can take us back to where we died. Where we should have been left. i wanna get in... please it hurts to breath when you have it down your throat wonderful design Memory can be sweet but painful at the same time. Memory is a flashlight, beckoning people to look into the dark hallways that are the past, and shed light on it with tenderness, sadness (sometimes,) and most of all, with love. Great exhibit... wonderful job. :) pain, joy, anguish, longing to live in the dreams we once dared to dream and hiding in the comfortableness of the remembrance. im so lost You people are just plain weird! vanished lies and torn words chilling nice colors Complacency my material a faded xerox of something that is possibly only a delusion. Uncertainty and imagination from years past, blended with stories you heard, books you read, movies you watched; those besides what really happened. Memory is the light on a floor filtered in through a broken stained glass window. illusion for our minds... to create a feeling of belonging to somewhere or something... i live thats what counts for me a really scary thought... Eerie, chilling, petrifying experience. yyyy Untapped infinity. Time and Space a piercing moment that embalms you in another time and space everything that i know i am, and everything that i am not aware of, yet nightmares memory your life. if you dont have a memory you donthave a life it is your past memory are the things that built your feelings and your life it is what keeps you fromgoing crazy it I s what MAKES I T that which we no longer feel but see on, say on. Is there anything left...really? chicks Memories are all we have to hold onto the past. without memories life would be an endless, meaningless hole, but we wouldn't know it, there would only be an empty feeling inside us like when your heart is broken. Memories are our windows to wisdom. I do not think for it hurts my head My mind is full of things which don't belong I've broken to much Next comes myself if its thoughts about the sight, its a good site nice everything how does this work then is it auto update?? sunny fall skies in my home town- drives home from work uh... i sleep i killed a slug with salt once and it felt like i had set myself on a course from which there was no turning back. watching the slug bubble out of its skin, the certainty that time is a vector with both speed and direction became clear for the first time. what i am always thinking about and what i am always forgetting that easily im scared Why, people, why? Spendid moments cast new light on relationships anew. She wore clothes that were from heaven...and diamond rings...and golden veil. nothing pictures where there were actions, sounds, movements, smells etc. this life is so boring. when will they stop teling me what to do? when will they ask me what i want to do? probably never. and nowhere! i will have to do it all by myself. well done abstract Forever and ever a skill for the sublimly lucky or the forever damned, a weapon for women, a trick, a lie, a wish, a regret, a longing, the mental faculty of retaining and recalling past experience, the past whether true or imagined my memory is nothing more but sour thoughts, all that hides within my head is the past. And the past was never good. I sometime wish for a better place but know in my heart that non will ever be. I mourn for losses and crave for love. Now I know that the only way out is through de ath. strangly still. disturbingly peaceful. sad. very sad. the past death in a can a platform for the present the links that create futre paths from which to choose recording all the dear/destructive moments -S.C i didn't understand a thing!!! they say Stop. i pull over. away from them, to feed my enemy, that which they are hunting. he is mine. my enemy. not theirs. they can't have him. he is tearing my lip off, sucking down the blood. and i fall down a well of hysteria, long ago releasing the desire to fight. they won't save me. they can't find him. because i hide him well. he is mine. he's killing me, but he is mine. all i have left. organism_59@hotmail.com lives in the past SCREAM FROM HELL i am god my self dreams what am i doing here? HOLY SHIT! What the fuck was that? Ok, bitchin the Hugeness of Responsibility artist's heart escape memory is immortality for the only things that truly exist are those in memory well I am not sure what to think of this. I got to your site www.6168.org from www.no-such.com which used to be hell.com. I am impressed it was kind of creepy though. If that was what you were tryingto do than congratulations. Anyway feel free to reply and explain things better to me. Faithlesslsduser@aol.com Thanks. Stephen fdsf i like fish life it is possible to create new memories, as a means of reconciliation with the past it is possible to go back, revisit the past and use it to change the present,the future... without memory it is very difficult to have a sense of self it is difficult to life fully without that sense of self and self knowledge; that is why i have taken up the practice of creating memories -to fill that place of void. -taulls@hotmail.com The landscape on which our confused and confusing perspectives of the present run to each other. (In a film it would be a field of flowers or a hillside covered with blades of grass - each one a waving door.) We love as we learn to love what can be no more. My Teacher, Memory, falls into your arms reaching for.... a place not to burn, the stopping of turnstyles to recognize a child we met on the threshing floor. Excuse me, but have we met before? (Sequel to the never made movies - all we would be equals memory, here with the book of matches you need.) memory by far means is in my direct opinon the absence of the moment of decision and the terror of wrong choices --lee jarett belback (eelcasio@hotmail.com) memory=suffering. Every mistake of the past is a demon in the back of the mind. Time heals, but memory never fails to undo the work of time, to slice open a wound which has never fully healed in the first place. Proust would dig this. It's amazing what can be done. There are those who exploit a medium in a fashion beyond all conceptions of the pros, the pundits and the palanquin. Fascinating. thoughts, confusion, pain, suffering, happiness, dreams, reality, love, and hate Why, ? I dont know why, there is a relation,....\/\ in life lives the monk,,, then bring the defile,,,,/] change is made and is bad...... but somewhat respectable///]] i dont want to leave, i dont want to leave.... this is weird I'm torn between loyalty and lust. eh? a horrible thing that only brings you troubles,pain,depression. ignorance is bliss. i wish i couldnt remember a damned thing, i would be the happiest man alive. the aftertaste of experience ...a golden sunset on prairie wheat fields. wow! who was she. or was it a hypothetical, might exsist stor of any jewish german in the war. i never thought love could be colder than death.. the only real thing is that is never enough not enough suffering... not enough tears... and stupid is the one who thinks happyness is more than just an idea... im bored, its aug/17/00 portland or all my friends are in school and im here reading what ever this is.... (sigh) the sum total of nothingness and existence itslef hatered and thoughts of the memories rethink its self over and over to keep your self going on to see what lies beside or into her heart for the depest thought to regain her self image to keep her peace . I have no idea about anything very beautiful... cryptic <> good beep, beep, beep, beep lies... lies... lies hard cock warrior in the dark with red glowing eyes while holding dildo with glowing red tip while he wears silver boots and yellow swimming gogles as he does jumping jacks in the rain with no other clothes on sharp seeds in hot sand two colors making pictures, bad film snakes opaque relief mué the times when I can honestly say that I enjoy who I am and what I am... in California. this time was at the end of my junior year and then I move to fuckin memphis and then now I try and make it through the day without thinking about suicide. DON'T MOVE TO MEMPHIS TENNESSEE UNLESS YOU WANT A REALLY LONG PAINFUL AND SLOW DEPRESSION! she faith, but that is only for an apparence he follow his dreams memories are tainted by this world as dreams are pure, the thing is , to make a choice... confusion fear death screaed egyetlenem saját könyvtáram escape from reality bureacracy is everywhere Where am I? love lying in the park with her, smell of girl (regretfully) Intense, beyond the words that speak and the picyures that scream. ha ha ha im not stupide today is wednesday loving him in november..killing him when the sun turns black im lost in this world i need guidance through this endless web of hate and violence i need to be free una línea roja en el horizonte: un párpado al amanecer otra vez en México tipdnas eht ,gnirps gnoK gnoH mraw ,skoob s'rehtaf ym fo llems eht - now I cannot remember the meaning of the word pastiche. My co-worker has it confused with capisce. And we do not have permission to hodge podge. I have an uncollected catalogue of my grandparents' photographs, and the commentary is all indirect for they are all at least a few years gone, which is to say dead. I treasure the gallery, nonetheless micah says "..." This is the weirdest site that I have ever been to. I didnt understand it all because I was so excited to move on to the next page... I guess i am just a curious kid. Who ever... jwlevesque@savatar.com laisser couler le pastis dans mon corps et essayer de rattraper la réalité. to let the alcohol penatrating in the body and try to catch the reality back. Recuerdo haber pasado, haber buscado una carretera, viajando en vespa, especial, en realidad no llegue a encontrarla pero soñe esa carretera para ella, y Memory - Transform who we are . . . the recent untimely death of my youngest brother floods my mind with memories of the wonderful times we had together. Memories are like waves tied together with the emotions. Lately they have been tidle waves of grief. They come and go with the tide. I am not in control . . . I ride them and life continues. It is not an event but an experience. mind OZZO my grandfather when he was sick, he hadn't talked,moved,or walked for weeks, one day i looked down at him w/ tears in my eyes, he grabbed my hand, put it in his over his heart, and told me, "don't worry my little princess, i promise everything will be alright", he died the next day, on sunday, june 25th 1996. wisdom well, some one has too much time on there hands but i liked the thought that was put into the page cybrblu2u@yahoo.com This is a strange yet interesting and original thing you got going on here. TH is kicks ass! swdfsd kvy what do u drem Whoah. nothing I once had a dream I was in a place that had no darkness. I once had a thought I was there. But then the dream was over. And I was standing here. the ultimate security of childhood, which you search for all of your life, whether or not you know it. but, it's gone. no matter where you look, it's gone. was it an illusion to begin with? that was somewhat out of the ordinary. But I wasn't expecting much else. I really did enjoy it encouraged me somewhat to write some music. "If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts." I love it. I have never read anything like it. It takes a lot to keep me interested in reading something and there wasn't a problem at all, it was great. how sad the hunger is a weapen i feal it all the time you abuser no rights no peace of you do you want peace or power well you want power so bad you how you prefer to account for you own life fdfdf the essence of what fills a soul. WOW THIS ISN'T WIERD AT ALL... TORMENT & SOLUTION daggers & controllable laughter)] revenge / conscience Cruel lessions in history Make me fade History is cyclical I remember: 11 seconds of peace 12 seconds of passion 13 seconds of faith 14 seconds to send a prayer up 15 seconds of fear 16 seconds to dream 17 seconds to forget all your hurt and pain My memory it's just the actions of the past that will decide my fate... all the things in my memory will return in every nightmare I have, and remember me my reality... By: LSHB® ©2000DC ICQ:38424502 What is this? Is this a tear? A tear came out of my eye... But.. Why? What happened? Don't know... But it must deserve my tear... But, Maybe, it didn't deserved it for real... But deep in myself it deserves it By: LSHB® ©2000DC whispers of what was and what will be... styff anyss and selectively stored neuro-super-tk421-elecro-impulses. i feel, not things, but i feel and it doesn't come out right. somewhere between me and everything there's not. something missing, some vital understanding or common ground. so i and feeling are trapped. no way out, no direction but restless circles. except hope. Memories of the past can be fake and misguided MEMORY- ia a powerfyl thing. It is capable of taking us back into out past and affect our future in dramatic and drustic ways. its good. how did i get here. i dont know. good. drugs are also good. i cant do them now but i wish i could. good. most are the ones I don't want to remember...but can't seem to forget. they are scars on my heart. that is absolutely intense, heartbreaking and very touching, thank you for sharing power torment, psychological abuse Mory. My name is Mory. I liked your site. It was fascinating, quite intriguing, really. A fresh take on things, which I usually don't see. MY friend, M.Y. More (he just goes by M.Y. strange, isn't it?), well he says I should stop playing the past over and over in my head. But it's hard for ME being the man that i am, MORY. Well, Just thought I'd share some opinions, GoodBye. why may beef not be consumed why mustit be what were its first intentions This is a very cool way of remembering someone me what the hell is going on here? i want her she whants me? nice uhm. Man is to interested in money. the bottom line. BULLSHIT!!!!! yes this was great Cannot think. Cannot breathe. thank you for sharing this with me lafatain@hotmail.com the only sence of time we have since "now" hardly ever exists consciousness Your Web-Site was an interesting journey...I believe we should hang on with all our might to our HAPPY memories,so when we are ever feeling bad we can summon for these that makes us feel good inside.Therefore,we can stock pile these good memories by making good MOMENTS to recall later.Choose wisely your MOMENTS,for they later become your MEMORIES.Breezyln6700@hotmail.com grey artificial cave. me licking sucking at seven or eight such firm scrotes all bunched together -bodies attatched - even now i can't work out how staghorns painted like tigers spread accross the front wall sueños sangrientos beautifully lonely HAIKU MEOMORY LISTEN pain trash a forever torment and pain. Memories of things that are not easily forgotten. The pain. Least we forget the [bad] yet rarly we remember the good. Mental torture!! Periods of painful thoughts that affect you for a prolonged period of time. Something to look back upon to make yourself better. my pin hole camera is my memory a year ago today the girl i wanted to spend my life with left me three years and two days ago my best friend from high school committed suicide. four years and a half ago my father died from cancer. anguish The images in your mind, that lead to nothing but sorrow, and emptyness... a parallel life Regret remembering My father liberated death camps in Europe at the end of the War. It has been Hell somewhere over there for so long, will it ever see peace? try to push it all away, let the dust drop from the crack-lined crevaces. I would tell you what I think but I am speechless. My mind run's empty describing what I have just read. is who you are and how you are to be hell at its best undead flash smell I hope you forget this... 12345 crazy this is fuken crazy!!!!! imortality a reminder of who you were b4 you met your best friend and of who you are now...a person with meaning in life, loved and touched so deeply not an ocean on earth could fathom the mere size of this incredible peace that keeps me longing for just another outreach of His hand...another touch of His spirit...another stream of His mercy. my best friend is Jesus and that touch is His. A dream or nightmare that already came true. a thought of the past... I Love my Wife access the memory experience its heart find a new life the experiences that we have not yet forgotten dizziness pain Every one and every thing that we love or remember or even hate becomes a piece of our identity, and to tear away those rituals would be to rip out or own hearts and the ones of those most dear to us. So, my dear friends and casual acquaintances, its best to be careful with such things, because you never know what will save you until the moment you begin to drown. the pain we all seek to know the answers to.. nothing death life sadness smells, images, emotion, pain. I'm afraid to lose my memory.what is life w/o memories? I hate to imagine... Wow, this is freaking weird ummm this site is strange. ? hurt beauty, horror, madness. is a blank image used to comfort... i hate it. it reminds me of the good times. when i have to live through the bad im just a slave running in a forest from a beast we all like to call death then i stop and i face the beast its me....im killing myself through my mind depression.I grab the beast and then it goes black my world has ended..... only love. Mums hold, dads strength,a home I felt safe. sickness puking afront. nausea is not the end. world will live forever no matter someone pukes or fucks. memories are what will remain and make you sick once you have... she remeber she must stay true to her self unfair I can remember the time i woke up... i ws not supposed to.. that's another story... Anne Frank, mixed emmotions. Unstable thoughts. Education compared to experience equals a balanced collection of fragments.... I don't know what you're on, but get me some quick i think this site is kinda wierd because everything is so calm, but through the writing it makes me want to read on. Tom Cornish ... and the moment is on its way ... after a call from the master we lay our hope on the rest of us. - ZoooZ - minus that was psycho enoesque a cinnamon-cloyed saturday - everything that was and everything that will be - compressed to fit a neural misfiring. How long ago was that? Or am I just anticipating a memory yet to be shaped? Eversor Deus its an unfair world.... that which is behind you Very moving. Execellent. I am inspired i can't remember if my thoughts are distractions. so many distractions that they affect memories. i am angry at the world today. could it be my memories that have made me hard or is it a sign of the times. either way - does a perfect love exist? I remembered when I was happy. I could get into fights and laugh at them. Now my life past over me. It grew to fast. I can't take the pain god puts me through. I can't go on. My wrist hurts and i'm hurting. I want to die but the people I once new won't let me go. It's like they are holding me in captivity. I feel like i'm trapped in a glass box that was buried. That is cause all I see is darkness. Is that ok though. I'm suffering and many others are too. We are all dead now we won't wake up until this so called life is over. We are living in hell now and when we die we go to heaven. We go even if we are good or evil. My family was murdered and friends treat me like they don't believe me. My family is lost but to the "world" they survive. I'm alone. All I do is cry and my tears that slide down face each time tell me to get the knife out. I don't listen. I know that cause the one person that I love now will forget about me after a month or too after my freedom. I should juust do what I have to do. I must go now. "TO A PLACE WHERE BLIND MEN SEE AND A PLACE WHERE DEAF MEN HEAR" The hatred of earth is within us. Suicide is not a joke and is not a laughing matter. "my thoughts of hatred are like you said a slut with no mean and a mirror with no end. The only one reason why we are alive is because we are afraid that the people we love now wont continue to love us when we are dead. We are capable of handling things without people knowing. Like you said before and again the bullet can hurt but the knife hurts more. Follow the pain. Trying to hurt yourself hurts others more then when you kill yourself then it hurts you more. So Live up to what you want and others look around see what you got to lose. i need hackers program richly subtle with imagination Oh, pretty enough to steal away the sadness. Whose bones are these? amontg@yahoo.com hell jon's hands... but, mostly tony's choosable history all I have the memory of an onion. Memory is a system of impulses in the brain allowing you to recollect past events. There's no deeper meaning than that, guys. I'm sorry to say, I found this place by mistake. This is all messed up, I myself have lead a difficult life, and I'm on top of the world, so be depressed with your freaky-ass website, I'm out. Yeah, ok. making people alive.. whoa hello a recreation of experiences of the past. Though like any recreation, never the same as the actual experience. The awakening sense of self immolation, undiscovered boundaries of disturbing images left undiscovered in a state of atrophy. mourning i remember everything. and very little makes me happy. when it does, it lasts only until i realize something bad has happened from that event or events related to it. a memory can be a curse. The sum of all fears not forgotten i don´t no What The… a life without addictions a longing for the past smell confusion and biased judgement I look into her eyes and see only pain I was brought to this place to help her But there is no helping those Those that are this far gone She tries to forget herself But the past won't let her I try Oh god, but I do try But she never stops crying I love her It's not enough Never is for her For her I taste her kiss She gives me nothing Nothing but lust I do not want this I want her to smile She can't So I cannot either thoughts or less, when less is more, then less the best. sky is limit hhhhh bla bla bla my memory exists in two ways 9 life coming face to face with the ghost of your past that shines a revealing light and asks, what were you then? what are you today? im lost in a vast open field in my head. Actually its not a field but more of a space, jumping around from thought to thought, thing to thing. Where am I now, Who are you. HELP ME. sad multi-dimensional, platinum-plated tour of sexual despression I find myself struggling to believe in God. I often wish I would die in my sleep so that I'd never know I'd left this plane of existance. Sometimes I dwell on this manner of thing until I work myself up into a deep depression. I want to believe in a God, but I don't want to have to choose a religion. I want to be a Hindu, Buddhist, Pagan, Catholic and I want to revel in the knowledge that my God is big enough to inhabit not only those faiths, but every other faith ever known to mankind. "There's no such thing as a God-hating atheist." I want more. from the famous poet 'beauty is such a rare thing so few drink of my fountain' i w a n t t o s e e m o r e . . . p l e a s e pussy what should be protected by the individual imaging was excellent Firestorm Why he doesn't tell me... he doesn't show me anything, she cries at night but I don't know when to talk, I don't know where to break the stone. If she told me I would know. I would know where everything belongs, fitting them inside the blocks of life. Then when the tim comes and everything tis perfect all I must do is say the words and the time is mine. It is all a game of dominoes. If one falls the rest fall like magic. A sense of reality gravity and depocracy. I am I. a hiccup of the conscious mind, during which we live in two times simultaneously.....I like hiccups! i miss her when i am without her when i am with her i love her when i touch her i adore her she is me i am her i want her to love me i want her to kiss me with her i am perfect without her i am flawed. she is as warm as the sun and as cold as the dimond found in her heart. she forgets my love she does not miss my love but without my love she has one less piece to the puzzle that is her very own heart. Nice surprice, good work :) spiffing! of eating meat MY HEART IS BLACK AND FULL OF HATE A picture of the past. good..... bhreha that was really beautiful i loved it. it saddens me to think that people go through that and that the "GOD" that people worship is given glory for not even existing or helping the people who pray and pray for the help that dosnt come. Life, blue with sweet. abandonment occupation Thank you. It ment something nostalgia isnt what it used to be anymore freaky chemical transformations in the brain which is in fact a chemical combination that you can not really trust. what does trust mean when it actually is a combination of chemical reactions after all! it moved me.... not like most things would but in a wierd way i can relate... what runs this machine of mine, driving the soul and compromising the soul, something which can not be found, but stumbled onto. month of mazes past the sky flashes and she squints to avoid being blinded. she prepares herself, mostly her ears, for the overwelming and sometimes somewhat frigtening sound that gave thunder its name. but there was no time for that. in fact, there was little time at all between shielding her eyes and covering her ears with her hands. she steps back away from the purple slash imprinted into her eyes, the source of the monstorous -crack-, which now seems to be coming from everywhere around her, all at once, but not that 2 feet made any difference. as the thunder dies off in the distance, she rediscovers the rain soaking her and wakes up, sheets drenched, sticking to her... knowledge of self vgdgrfdg nhh She told him to take her completly at first. to get it out of the way. his way. Then maybe he could kiss her as though she were- she. the key to happiness is to have a short memory the key to happiness is to have a short memory magic. To look into the past is to bring forth happiness and pain and joy and sorrow all together. memory memory there are more mistery between heaven and earth that figures our dimly philophosy when i close my eyes, i see your face. only a glimmer, a twinkle in the dark eyes. will you ever return? faded pictures The time is the best friend and the worst enemy It was great, nice work very creative site you have i like it alot ...thanks for sharing your talent..... sincerly ...chad ich fergessen I forget football pie maiden voyage mon amie trouble with you folks is that free expression has left no firm footing for rational sentiments. the bomb's falling life That was so freaky I'm now afaird to go to sleep at night! I feel i'm going to commit suicide, with a nail gun..... may the afterlife be good for me..... fairwel sick, twisted fucks!!!!!! A Lover passed by me before giving me heartache. Making relations with one of my friends. Dreams of reality Once upon a time Yo soy un sueño Overwhelming infinte sadness that sweeps over every corner in her soul... a longing 2 be something she is not. an eternity of darkness and torture i remember loving liza, rusty loves liza and that is what i love to remember, though remebering it is easy when you remember something that happens every day so it is a constant reminder even though that phrase sounds bad constant reminder does, and why is this suddenly hip? Because it never was hip. It never was, but will be again for a short time, and that's what I'm hoping for--that someone will see it then. Until then, Rusty loves Liza and Liza loves Rusty and that's the reflexive property. Math class, baby. illusion THERE IS NO TIME ONLY SPACE SO MEMORY IS CREATING YOUR OWN TIMELESS SOULFUL SPACE... "what you think is how you end up" death is only the begining! the worlds destruction is near but only choosen people will surive! i love something ,but i donnot how is it??? la vida es bella Hi... I'm Korean.. Hahaha... I'm can't English... But Homepage(?)... It's Good... Nice... Well... GoodBye!!! what ever errrrez80/81 the tumultuous journey of trying to recapture experiences - good, bad or indifferent, just to have that feeling, that sensation again. large order fries, big mac.. and a cherry pie heartache, anguish and sorrow, pain from within escapes to the now... a sad thing to remember... your being Muito bom! Lucas esteve aqui fragmented broken photographic images that are recorded and brought back in relative matters that effect your every day life and also determine your characteristics and moods depending on surroundings, situations, and embedded horrors displaced by the mind. also, you could say memory is equal to history. Any mental recall of a comprising favorite image that you can only admire and think of constantly. an endless circle rising to a peak and then fallimg back down. "I am am genuis" in say in wonder at one moment At another I realize that i am a fool! I will never know where it came from but yet in remains forever in my memory like a bright candle flame on an infinite candle. i want in life mistery Why does the night still haunt me szar I wonder, what lies ahead WOW!! SOLITUDE Every person has one wish, and this must be wished fevrently, absolutely. This wish will be granted exactly as it is formed in the wisher’s mind. In rare instances, two wishes will be granted, but the second wish will reflect something deeper then what even the wisher believes he or she wants, some portion of their true essence which even they had never realized. Once, a man hated people; all people. He did not understand them; if he wanted one thing for one purpose, they wanted the opposite. His wish was to be left alone, and to have a nice seaside cliff from which he could view the sea until the end of his days. While driving one afternoon, he came upon an old dirt road. He followed it to completion, and at it's end he found a sheltered cove which was overlooked by a high cliff. A freshwater stream ran into the sea, and bushes of berries dotted the heavily wooded area. This was the place he had wished for, a seaside cliff where he could stay forever, which no one else would come to and bother him at. Years passed, and he was forgotten. No one else had understood him or his eccentric behaviours, and the few that had tried to befriend him found him to be moody and capricious. He had forgotten them, and now just liked to sit by himself on the edge of the high cliff. He felt a natural kinship, a sense of likeness, that connected him with the rough sand beneath him. He especially enjoyed the sensation of the wind at his face, pushing him back from the edge. He wished only for one thing, now that his first wish, to be free of people, had been granted. This was for a large rock with a smooth face upon which one could rest their backs, and feel the strength of the cliff beneath, the air above, and the stone behind them. He wished for this for a very long time, the span of a life. Years later, visitors to the small cove noticed a curious smooth faced rock, which would have been perfect to put one's back against and feel the wind push against your face. Some even named the rock, and young children loved it in the way of a favourite blanket. Even adults felt an odd liking of the rock. Of course, they all sat on top of the rock, and none even thought once of putting his or her back against the strong surface and sitting on the sand. David Streever, 1999 Hey... this is to the creators of this website... I don't think you are reading all of these... I think they are not for that purpose but to allow us to vent the intensity of our emotions after this experience... I just want to scream right now to be honest... just scream and yell throw things... but... I also am filled with a deep longing to find what I am missing... I think you feel that poignant sense of loss as well... I would love to have tea with you sometime... David Streever of 32 Haywardville Road East Haddam CT 06423. If you want my number, please email me... Oh, I am the same one who wrote the message below this, and the message in the Self one, where I write about how the mystic says one thing, the sensualist another, and the wise man nothing... I talk about the collective unconcious there... seriously... I would like to meet you someday... or at least correspond. Every dictator was once a little boy or little girl. There is no greater evil then that prompted by fear. Dictators take many forms and are found in every facet of life. The overbearing mother, the overbearing Emperor. Neither is more evil then the other; one is in the proper position to do more damage to anyone else. Lost and lonely, I find my way through this maze. I'm not the only, left in a frightened daze. I feel rancid, in this pure misunderstanding. Just the answer, is all I'm demanding. good presentation. Moving. shivers down your spine of Plesear Shame Pain Happines i loathe yo momma tired... must sleep... Some people die an unatural deth. Those who go out to fight in the horrible wars and ends up dead. Do they die an unatural deth? My conclusion is that there are no unatural deaths, but only death itself. -R- a painful reminder a bucket of water a gift it does. it stops. we just don't know where. and never will. not proven my boy will now denounce his tru feelings and from now on we will fight to know the truth wherever that may take us Music lingers in the air as I breath pure thoughts of fragance in a melody of extasy fear for the future She lay awake and remembered of her times in pain Why has this all happenend. It doesnt seemes real. In my mind I know it is, but my heart tells me otherwise Eat me fucker your good!! I like it!! Absolutely beautiful! wanting whom and eagering whatever i did yet sadness The remeberances of a past, a distant time of infinate possiblities when pondering what became of those past senses. The act of recalling pain through an emotional stimulation which could only be described as an unaltered inaliable sense of a source of measurement. Mother perspective dead. im lost realy i like it but im lost where is the door? Beautiful, and beauty lies truly in what is ugly. what thoughts on memory? sometimes even when you think that you are free... you are not La mejor manera de vivir esta con el Tequila, el Cognac, el Mezcal, y muchas tantas que existen danger run, good bye, she was a dream,russian, girl , inhibited, out of control kavan pourmorad the grade king snowalien3 dreaming of the the future how will the future be or there will be a future i dont think so jessica Thats which gives us character. confused a big blur lonelyness,pain That jumbled up part of our minds that is never quite clear, yet not blurry enough to be unseen completely I honestly dont know what to think....Karmic love/heat/sex/rasizim/history/past it all is fucked nothing but electricity, and it does not matter, nothing matters. We are already dead anyway. We do not wake up until we die. what we recollect TOUCHING STORY HURTING theres somthing about memories. Tangble as a pebble on the tounge. its seen through distant eyes the amalgamation of sense to the exception of all previous experience. collection of thoughts amd experiences sadness NOTHING HI! PETER & SHARON °¨thank you! from SEOUL KOREA soul's film What is this? what does it all mean? Is it all hell.com or are these seprate sites just hell.com randomley pulls them up? Its total madness and confusion, no rhyme, no reason, and it bugs the Hell out of me! Wow! This is, indeed, different. constructed ___ past fuck *.... non-exist(ed) Tiny footsteps disolving fading and recurring echo All which is not present or future. How sad... fits my mood. i remember one day late at night at a beach with turntables.. then it started to rain and everyone ran The previous was amazing. Somehow evoking fear dripping with curiosity. As damaging as a hot poker I could not stop sticking my self with. ----thanks---- computer a fine presentation,moving(i know someone from budapest; Orshe) kuay kaminay khachaer "history is an angel being blown backwards by the wind into the future" Walter Benjamin temporal persistence of existence Who ever made this has some problems but thats ok so do I it was very creative and interesting Madness, Anger hatred, confusion, eveil Serene, calm, God, Peace I wonder where this is going my tumb still hurts sadness falls on the untold hearts... I have learned a lot and to know that something that depressing had happened makes me think where is this god that everyone is talking about i'm sorry belikethat@yahoo.com sadness falls on the untold hearts... I have learned a lot and to know that something that depressing had happened makes me think where is this god that everyone is talking about i'm sorry my father saving me, and nothing more i wish i had time to think to html too, i cant too much time to think and store in my head and not tell, no kiss and tell, thought and keep, im glad someone else thinks the same, makes me not so alone, but still so much at the same time, i hope your well, and find whatever it is your looking for, behind whatever cloud it is that you peek behind, take care, richard. layers man is defined by his memory. but memory is only as a buh of programs written to a disk they can be wiped away or altered at a whim. nothing can not change a memory Acceptance. Denial. Things seen, and shrouded. Known, and unknown. One, one, two? 1+1=3... a sum of smaller parts. 2 pieces, combined to make a whole, 3 pieces. I am, nothing more than that. you are the sum total of your thoughts. People care. The world is dark and stormy. Bunnies are cute, but taste good too. just a picture of how you see the world by yourself a bank of meaningless, hopeless wealth Good stuff reflections of the past experienced in the present so as to buffer the fear of the unknown future HI all evils The things that i can remember are all a blur, years of hitting the bottle. Wish i could remember the dreams, asprations ive had. Cant remember, all a blur fuck off i don't remember sadness Our need to delve and dig into the ones that have left.. carry salt, skin, scent, under our finger nails. .. sometimes, the preface of a smile. mostly, a staple -- survival -- an excuse to drag the wound closer to the surface, after waking in the night fearing it will leave no scar. this is amazing Altogether nothingness seems to reproach the depravation of the sheep of all. They are all. They don't remember. Visions are God. awakening from a nightmare and crying into my pillow; dampening the pillowcase with my tears and my spittle. wondering why my mother hasn't come to comfort me. a car which you can ride into another place and another time. with memory, you never have to change. you can be always the same. it is the road we walk through life, gropig around for clues that tell us to go right or left. dreams deferred will be heard compeled by the thought of my existane, i know i now must depart to a place were i know my soul belongs, i will go now and be with the one i know i was created for. YOUTH Whising art was really part of my future what should I say? 42 Wow, That was the coolest damn thing I have ever read in my life. Personaly I think that memories are bad and that new found Knoledge does no more than distroy your natural wisdome and replaces your natural thinking procses with one created by the unnaturel civilization we are exposed to every day. What is this?? Thoughts that one will keep in their minds! Something that brands them for life! aaahh! uugh! Aaaaaaahh... words spread out and personal self definition. Or an anecdote. a pathway to the wind, a new wall always falling down, a breath in the short opening of a door lop I was eleven when he took her. it was only for a couple of minutes. but i never saw her again. the way you feel alive existance confused anyone? er...?? shall i make soothing ocean sounds for u? shwishss, swischs ahooga, ahooga, CAW,CAW totall ll recall and every thing everything everything Cuando era niño conocí a un anciano que pedía dinero en las esquinas. Tenía la barba muy larga, muy blanca, muy delgada y fina. Caminaba de la mano de mi abuela, regresando a la casa desde el mercado. Me detuve en una esquina frente al anciano, emocionado, yo tenía apenas 3 anhos, y le dije que él era mi abuelo muerto y que, después de tanto tiempo de no haberlo visto, lo llevaría a la casa a descansar. Con el estupor de mi abuela, marchamos los tres... Se despidió de nosotros en la puerta de la casa. Supe al poco tiempo, en mi corazón, que murió. Y algo de mí murió también aquella vez. Desde ese entonces, todos los ancianos en la calle son ese anciano, son mi abuelo, soy yo mismo. love not war nothing bliss what comes to us in our dreams whether we like them or not. If we do things that are pleasant to us now...then our future dreams won't be so bad cool and cold too?! Life is a dream with in a dream! Happines is experienceed in the subconscious. Life is grand on heavens land! past experiences we accumulate either in our unconscious or preconscious trapped boxed doomed That was very cool. Do you have a url to visit? i remember watching videos of myself as a child, but not the events in the video taking place. I just wanted to say that was pretty deep.... weird waste of html HI HOW ARE YOU? world peace l World is gone.Only Fate exists. cool beans rocko images idealized to soothe us, beat us, rape us, complete us. I am deeply moved I am deeply moved a light in my darkness What we want to remember in life, even if we don't know that we want to remeber it. What of memory.... is it are imagination, is it only things we perceive in life.. is it all we want it to be, do we only remember something if it really happened? Why do we remember, is there an answer...is memory a puzzle which eventually recedes to the finally answer of life...what is it?..... What the hell is this? everybody is different but we all are the same!!! we should love each other no hate,no noway... i love women and nature.!!!! The Time I Spilled the Can of Pee I called my former stepfather after 18 years. I was 27, going on 28. "It doesn't sound like you," he said. I was only calling to arrange a visit between my mother and the daughter they had had together. His parents (who raised the girl) had told my mother she was dead, and she had only recently discovered it to be a lie. He was paralyzed from polio and going blind. He had been featured as a national inspirational figure in the Reader's Digest for getting his Ph.D. despite such obstacles, and they gave an address to which readers could send cards and letters of encouragement. She began a correspondence, and upon "divorcing" my father, (whom she had never legally married), packed us into a passenger train in the middle of the night to go live with this hero. "It never hurt me, and it won't hurt you" he said. (He often stripped us naked, inflicting severe beatings.) Much of our life was entwined with his bodily functions. "Remember when you spilled the can of pee?" (This was his idea of a memory to share.) It was long trip, 1966, hot summer. I was seven, going on eight. His eyesight was poor, and he drove the car with special hand controls. On Loveland Pass in Colorado, crossing left against oncoming traffic, he caused a man to veer off the road, killing him. In the confusion, no one knew we were the cause of the tragedy. We drank water from the fountain and drove away with all but emotional impunity. Later, on the Kansas turnpike, he pulled over to relieve himself into an empty tomato juice can. He always kept one nearby, as he could not use the toilet in the manner of a person who could stand. I held it, the top open, brimming with piss, "just long enough to empty it at the next service station." It was warm and hideous in my hands. I dropped it onto the floor of the car. He said, "remember when you spilled the can of pee?" He was blind by then. Our time with him had been his golden years, his one shot at a family of his own. When he finally died, I felt regret. I don't believe in hell, you see, and could not take comfort in the thought that he might be suffering there. James Quinn quinnj@nevada.edu (P.S. Every word of this is true and literal) (P.P.S. Your website is wonderful.) The Cosmic Time Warp. EZ Cheese Giant Panda Freakout. The History of Food. The Question of Woman. A Moth. Cheese. Whoever you are, you're quite mad. crap this is a fucked up site and i like it ... bestiae sumus ut non bestiae primcipium est ... sometimes you wish you were there; sometimes you wish you were never there. unreliable - if you don't remember something, did it happen? blind CRAZY! The more drugs I do the more death seems like a myth than a reality. A time when she felt she could connect with another person. thoughts transgressed, dissolved highway roadkill forgotten, through a thousand trains full with nights steaming.... what you are astounding, the fact that when you revisit you history you see triggers - simple things, a crack in a brick, one you saw thirty years ago, one you saw just once, one you wouldn't have remembered without that trigger, but now that you have seen it again, you know you have before, your memory has held it for thirty years, a worthless piece of information for thirty years that your memory has held just in case you would visit again and see that brick, and see that crack, yet one can not find the TV remote that was put down ten minutes earlier. a longing of the soul to be where we all once were and a dream of the heart to be happy. i live in mexico city that's my life im from gomez palacio i dont speak english soy un joven de 18 años que pienso que mi hermano es un ser de otro mundo y quiero saber si lo es dog si natas Memories are fuzzy dreams of things long past. Did they really happen? Are our imaginations creating happy "memories"? Did things really happen the way remember? a loss thereof what a interesting site. A lot of work and artistic thought. I am thankfull that I found it what the hell is this site about? lost in thoughts sound he entered my room with the stillness of my heart damaging the atmosphere -he- took it away, my heart that is -I- was left there with no passion to drive me to the end of my days -they- came the next morning to clean up my remains films= solaris... ran..... seventh seal comics= bone... hate.... akiko music= global communication.. orb..yokota susuma this site is very neat solaris... ran..... seventh seal money kind of wild lost space, too big to be seen and too much selvage to be dominate I'm not aware of who she is, but... Well, you know; it was a sad story just as a million others are. I'm quite sure I can ger=t over it. Add to the statistics: Black girl, 19 years old on may 13th, bipolar diagnosis, too nice the recollection of past events, in that they may become our present for a temporary time. what the... strange... estranged.. I don´t have a clear "first memory", many people say they do, but I don´t. But I have a dim memory of a strange feeling, a numbness. Like when you test a battery against the tip of your tounge to determine if there´s any juice left in it - and find out that there´s quite a lot left. I guess I was abducted by aliens. But I don´t remember. Temperament decides clarity. Self-awareness decides accuracy Incredible expression, explosions of the mind that emulates who we are. Calatonous junk that generates more emotion than mere thoughts, people or words ever could. xvhxsd memory is a compilation of those things you have experienced throughout life and can be called into focus to aid you blurring and eventual crystallization of a single emotion, usually a good one I LIED IT A LOT VERY CREATIFUL AND VERY INTERESTING so many lives repeat the same stories. The times may change, but people remain the same. Afraid subjective imprinting of sensory perception eternal collective archives pain you people are messed up denied pleasures, hopes and fear. An escape into another plane of existence, may be desired or feared about. Locked away and frozen in time. Death I want to believe in my dreams! hell looking at your self as you were from what you are now... experience + time - repression chaos, simplicity, order, beauty forgoten kann hier keiner deutsch sprechen? +-NazereneR+- facts (that which can be surmised by figures and logic) + emotive (false representation of a true past) the only thing we have Let your-self die and kill your immortal thoughts Darkness consumes us all...! Speachless night whitout anithink where your dreams go when they die pain Ummmmm.... this is ancient and smells like antiques to me ..i think of elderly people and there dusty and rusty lawn mowers from the "good ol days"..but underlying it all is the evil of foriegn war and the fight for personal freedom... e-mail is.. bungle138@hotmail.com pain you are a bitch ass mother fucker wow after all is said and done only the memory remains... Sins of the tides, the men were death soon fallow time, space, and the relativity of one creature to another. that oi think was very different but really good this site is very kick I remember the day my Dad remarried. I was excited, but didn't know the hell it would bring years later. It's a memory I wish never happened. confused an abyss. a place i barely see when i turn back to look. my eyes must be getting worse...or maybe the past is fading away. every now and then i catch a glimpse of it, climbing trees, swimming, crying...those glimpses are so full of emotion that i feel that if i had more than a glimpse that i wouldn't be able to bear it. lehcarga@aol.com I am confused with my life storage confusion? mystery? what the... Very poetic.. Is there more? okie afraid, lonely, forgoten yet not begotten...Upset yet not alone. the picture of now... the rimembrance of an old future... kool i hate being gay cool as hell internet..... death a peeled banana Down the hallway I was walking quietly and I could hear my footsteps tapping on the floor. Those long long dark hallway, I've never feel so lonely and so hopelessness. I was trying to find somebody that can help me in my last minute. But I couldn't find anyone there.. Then a shadow emerged at the other end..I don't have my eyeglasses on, so I couldn't see that person clearly... He was liked a holly light that gave me hope to survive.. When I felt so hopelessness that time, but he gave me a miracle.. Something that I can hold on to and look forward to in my life... I 'll always grateful for his help and his last minutes' kindness!! Dear professor-- Thanks for your help! deeper. calm. stillness. quiet. waiting. nostalgia is an evil thing. i hate when smells slam me back into my past. i work so hard to forget. i think i should work on forgive. smell of my backpack Pain, decay, nothingness, when we realize that all that exists will share the same fate, we can accept. Nothing excapse, we are all nothing la memoria alimenta la vida. Construye el pasado , crea el presente y nos prepara para el futuro. la memoria nos permite conocer, para crear e imaginar. La creatividad es consecuencia de la memoria: en la medida que guardamos, recordamos, luego creamos, entonces vivimos, sentimos y expresamos... crislinares@hotmail.com a life of pain, a life of missery.Should I be born here if I am ment to suffer? Only One question remains.... Why? Death, Life, the begining, not an end, questions, unanswered, But a question never ends, one sparks many... Intelligence, foolishness, wisdom born of cowardace, Life goes on... slow decay and the comfort and heartache that goes with this, unless the memory is not of a physical nature or the cause of a regret... they are our collection of experiences, some might say they are who we are, they are at least our knowledge and our linear self. The question is are we time soley time based entities, what is our existance out side of this passing of time that gives us these things called memories. i remember when i got my first black eye, this crazy jigga named taliq mo bob socked me fading REFERENCES to who we have been sfsdfd Will I ever win can't fail Memory is beauty. Beauty is cruel. usually good, block out the bad this computer is my only input, my expression. I am alone. rwerwefsda visions of how things were supposed to be. prebirth and god through the enemy part of the inhabiting process by which we construct places ... past, no future, nonsensical events filtered by time that become the girders and reinforced-concrete slabs of our personality. never were they but anywhere seemingly ententacled by scabrous necessity and its pendulous inclination towards profanity the congealing of thousands of bits of information that are fed to us every day, in thoughts, actions, experience and even in nescience(non-thought, mooshi-non-mooshi); for the purpose of documenting our personal trials, tribulations and ordeals in this strange thing we call "life" or, more fundamentally, "exsistence." whats left behind after logic answers everything away a distillation of emotions interesting voyage into the past... I liked it an amalgam derived from ancients I love the pacing. It is like being told a story by a deer, or wind, or a dead god. visions of laughter dance in my mind. Cries of happines fill the still air and make me wonder "Can we do this again?" what the hell is this trtrtrtr Memory clouds the bliss of now a fine tuned continuity upon which to write in the immediate in the singularity of what will not be remembered. the ability to choose what you need to know when you need it . also the ability to decide who you know when we look back and choose. Very tuching but also confused e-mail me @ johnpecew tell me more Time does not exist, all that is physical is empty The life of my cat. Defined by morality. But is it? Can it not be that Memory is a ladder of sorts. One thats' fonundation is grounded in the essance of humanity itself. To become... To become what is not. This is the birth place of reality. But to forget... Ahh, If I only knew such bliss. cat car bus pen fire house job family marriage mexico baby pregnant fear money memory is. Pain Life... sin. Can't forgive. never sleep... too tired to think... just being. making noise, importing thoughts, hiding memories want to forget - want to forgive sitting on a cloud w/ george eating pizza and monkey brains i said yuck and george just laughed snapshots of events, coupled with an innate measurement of one's life soul soemthing making me sad and not wanting to se it. Memory is killing my mind although I should accept it as a goo dthing. I made this memory bad. I wish I couldnt think of the things I have done to myslef bu tthe are like the scars on my arms, they are there to teach me something. sddsgfhjgjhkjlkj fucku fucku Dad... frustration........ happy cold blue wind hug tears sleep lying in bed at the age of ten - the lights are out, its an hour or two past bedtime. The day is done... everything is quiet except for the hum of the furnace and the gentle rumbling purr of the kitten which has curled up on my chest. I drift off to sleep, tired, warm, at ease.. thinking there is nothing better than my warm bed and my beautiful kitten... Yesterday is a blur of events that all happened too quickly, yet not quick enough. The day before is a sprinkling of events that I remember along with a large side of sleep. My life on this planet is a small copyright symbol and my life in this universe is but the size of a small grain of sand. My life is filled with events that concern me, yet when I look back at them I can't find myself in them. My life is not over and really has not started yet. -AKA- I have a bad memory... the place where you store all of the horrible things you'd like to forget about, and the place you later retrieve these images from... hi moving, sedating.... excitable A FORGOTTON TIME AND PLACE Hi I'm Goku. dunno Love ....fear, the are more of us than I know. more of the insane. fragments of desire fuckyou reading the impressions my senses thrust upon my brain knowledge of THE sadness the very existance of self... past interpretations + present understanding + new reflection of meaning love past waves endlessly crashing This is really wierd and i don't understand it. absence of innocence test from atty here are thoughts... of mine. Perception of reality remembering things of the past estar verdad es sombra como muerte el tiempo rostro y pensamiento la memoria espejo no una huella efímera la belleza sino fragmento de espacio luz... vida... idea exhaustion completion emergence.... false and true what we wish it to be and what it will never be someformof fantasy and document everlasting and tricky subjective, sniffed and felt brought rushing back in flashes and floods despising and attached to hopes and desires what is familiar and what is plain. nightmares and halos fading and stuck moving with time and dreams what is new? is being in the past now and the future I dont remember a damn thing Sadness Believing In Its Own Existance. this is really amazing. many, many pea bubbles to you, o creator. get off your mind trail the past somber spoken word In my opinion your sight is a bunch of bull shit. the past that we have not yet seen journey into the past? i prefer to meander through the future hell thoughts on what this is one dodgy website there is still a God suffering hearts, trembling voices, distant memories, ancient ruins of the soul, mind emptied, bodies collapsed Just blankness when i try to think of what i am thinking. pain and suffering for years and years so sad data bits of the past either too strong or too profound to allow forgetfulness to have them. hinderence When to laugh or cry in a bitter hatred that you hold for life. dreams of what escape, hide, run lying in a canoe in algonquin park looking at the night-sky with my dad. what a wonderful journey! excellent... love,pain,anger, memory in itself could i be wrong about it? Does it really matter? I could have stayed where I came from... No I couldn't... There is something wrong with the world today una lacrima sul viso the moments in time, either good or bad, that have engraved themselves into the part of your mind that collects information on things done. Love Hurts you think it's great something that could make you fly. i thought he loved me yet i was wrong he broke my heart and left me on valentines day after he said he wanted to spend the wrest of his life with me Lacy* caly80@yahoo.com lo que creo recordar, la fantasía del mí mismo. yo de pequeña. todo mentira...casi. that is a story of sadness with a powerful true statement "there is no god" went to hell. came back. went to heaven. came back. stuck here. don't care. reality purity too personal and personality rendering to tell anyone but my pillow too personal and personality rendering to tell anyone but my pillow hate Within the existence of memory, lingers the thoughts of, smoldering needs. I wish I could remember things but they float away so bloody so bloody so harsh and scabbed. They crunch like beetles when I step on them they taste so bittersweet, my memories. They call to me but I can't reach them like a dead skeleton horse (tried to eat that carrot) they will always be there to close the walls in on me and smother my father... reluctance, apprehension of what I can and cannot see very..... depressing. yet interesting highly interesting DEATH, HATE, HITLER hind sight. could i have changed the future? i found that stuff very touching to me this is a xrazy website it made me think that life is to precious to take for granted deep PURE ART! Very nice Definately a bookmark Of thence and now can the rushing tide i paint. i awake. i look at what i painted and remember who i am and what its about no shit! hmm your site is very intriguing.... i am always a little confused by the sites that hell.com throws out at me. Times as a child. Playing in the flowers with my pets. collections of words or images built up over time wow. cool. I loved it, though it seemed a tad bit sad. help! im lost inside of a computer! the past unto the present HER DREAM IS STRANGE, SHE IS CRAWLING HER WAY THROUGH A TUNNEL, SHE IS STRAINING TO SEE A LIGHT. SHE FINALLY SPOTS AN OPENING, SHE'S NEARLY OUT, BUT HANDS START PULLING AT HER ANKLES AND SHE TRIES TO FIND THE STRENTH TO WRIGGLE FREE. EVENTUALLY,SHE IS STRONG, SHE CLIMBS UP THROUGH A HOLE, SHE IS FREE. OR IS SHE? destination Life and death. The occurance of dream in reality can set one free, but never aproach that which is us. Dream and memory are but a part of the mystery of what makes us human, yet it is through our ability to think and dream that we are set apart. Memory serves to shape us into what we shall be, and never will be. Memory is what we shall forever ponder on, yet sometimes forget. I bid thee good day, and as a great band once said, "the memory remains". information ----- time impressions left behind lacking truth and falsity fukin apples A cold room. Or perhaps it's dark instead. It's definitely either cold or dark. There's a fireplace or something but it's not lit. Otherwise it would be neither cold nor dark. Muffled by our floors, someone is shouting upstairs. Two someones. My parents, but I can't tell which is which. Muffled by our floors. The English house has thick floors and thick walls but still let the draft in. Years later I would get used to Montreal, with its double glazing and pink fibrous carcinogenic insulation, but for now I was in the cold. Or the dark. Cold or dark. very good in the way it was presented.. importance people only remember what is important to them the thought of every one around me and the thoughts that you were there and that you were to be sent to a place where one can find him or herself. supreme sadness and total uneasieness and that only i can control un_holy_ 1@hotmail.com Is this a memory of my childhood? There aren't any I remember ...l. wraiths. I was anti-social and detached From kindergarten I was picked out and mentally tortured. I remember the look on their young faces as they attempted to destroy what they did not undersstand. Hate. stillness is a talent only one can understand understanding is a complication one brings stillness impression TO WATCH, TO SLEEP, TO WATCH SLEEP, NEVER ENDING, WHICH IS REAL my hand is an animated icon on a web site cuz im chinese i thought i killed my friend not knowing whether i was in hell pondering whether i killed him or not or at his house, where i thought i was, laying on the floor Whatever your mind can hold i dreamed of a day the pain would go away every day for 21 years the pain has stained my eyes i wish for more. i try to please everyday there is a demon that takes more from me i cry and relent just to try to understand every day it gets worse every day will it ever end The recept of the past forcing you to accept return on the product of life. love only comes around once or twice experience memory is altered perceptions of the past prova 1 2 3 prova running low............... When I was seven I went to an elementary school across from the Catholic school. They seemed so much better. They had special uniforms. They had an Octoberfest. And I thought that they had some essential ingrediant that I lacked. I was baptized Catholic, but my family didn't observe. I wanted to go to Catholic school. I thought they were closer to God. it turned out that it took money to walk among them, so I couldn't go. I would stand by the edge of the fence, so I could sneak over to watch them. Being seven, I thought that God talked to them, but not me because I didn't Catholic church or school. There was a picnic table behind my apartment complex. I created a church underneath it. I had an old bible and a crucifix. I went under this table everyday for several monthes, each time begging God to speak to me, show me something. I wanted confirmation. I did not want to have to 'believe'. I wanted to know. One day I went to an old railroad bridge. The creek below was dry. It was about twenty-five feet from the bridge to the rocks below. I prayed out loud and repeated it several times;"God catch me". I broke seven ribs, my right arm in two placesand shattered my clavicle. I had to drag myself back up the embankment. I nearly lost consciousness several times. It was a three mile walk back to the road. With each step, as pain shot through me, I felt an incessant rage rising ever higher. I was not angry at 'God', no more than I'd get angry at the Easterbunny. There was no fucken God. My venom was for all those people who had professed that lie to me. All those people that just couldn't face reality, and would rather believe in a lie than face cold truth. My rage still boils for them. lars logan> Illuminaticus @ hotmail.com everything dissolved thoughts felt through pictures i suppose this girl's hell is the lack of opportunity. has she loved? "Im standing behind a hundred panes of translucent glass, once in a while a pane is removed, and I think,"Things are so clear now!" But in reality my vision, although improved, is still blurred. I dream of the day when the final pane is removed..." (Josh) some stuff when times were nice days were warm times have changed so now theres harm being good beeing bad makes no since when u have no dad wonderful fuck every thing is dark and hot. all i hear is the sond of peole being tortured none forever lost... when are you found? thought provoking images that entail memorable moments wow. what an awsome site. love it very deep the fluid backdrop of mind creasing time and space with untold longing a kind of pleasure. the points from where we can start the play of "if...". always heavy or light. without objects (or people) it became melancholy. Or not? and many other things Help wow. i remember when i was younger, things were still happy. My dad was still alive, he died when i was six. There is one memory that sticks out. Me and my younger brother with a few friends were standing on the side of the road playing. My dad was fixing the car and as usual my mom was bitching. She seems to always do that. It was late afternoon on a summer day. The thing that was awkward about the day was that a skunk came down the road. Right down the middle of the road. Everything in its path just moved. Got right out of its way. One of the weirdest things i have ever seen. Poor thing turned the corner and a bunch of kids started chasing it. The older kids beat the thing to death with bats. It didn't even bother anybody I am in an obscure universe... A tangent of the ambiguous structure aptly named "THE WEB". Am I lost, or am I being led astray by every click? Anonymous artists make due of my attention span. The most pretentious, two dimentional reality known to man lies among these energy-emitting photons of information and color. Who are you? It means as much to me as who I am to you. A face and a soul cannot transport along electrical properties. Must you read this? No. But is time better spent? I write this. For my own benefit? That depends on you. But if you choose not to, what is it I benefit from writing these existential products of my personal thought? Probably nothing. But is MY time better spent? i dont really get it... some weird place called hell.com brought me here... im looking for some kind of meaning Wow. a man sleeps... dreaming as he is supposed to be driving... killing himself, my best friend, and their baby... In a heartbeat there world and mine are gone Words are like leaves, falling as wins passes. A memory is something that keeps us alive by letting us see our pasts... and teaching us how to cope with all the bad memories. learn how to cope with all the bad stuff, and just be happy for all the good stuff... the happy memories are what counts! Tucker MacDonald Insanity. strange i had a girl who after a while and some good sex i did away with her but know more than ever i want her back afer denying her back myself many times .she has a new man and has not got the freedom to choose anymore i am one thoughts, uninhibited from the mind of one's past. ÇÏÇÏÇÏ what we don't know temper, temper, temper standing silent WE DON"T KNOW (temper) WE Don't KNOW!!!!! temper chance to reasses where we've been and create new opportunity fuck you I don't remember a compilation of experiences that help construct individuals, and hopefully provide the insight and experience needed for them to be able to acheive the ultimate goal of the human race. i cannot express in words the sorrow i feel... The persistence of Hell's will to truth; YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE i remember yesterday and the day before, wanting to walk away from this fucking job, disappear and become alive. i remember today, paying bills and saying goodbye to yesterday. i remember one minute ago, wanting to run out the door of this fucking job, kiss my lover and ask him to come with me. hell.com is all i remember Memory is everything. Good, Evil, Pleasure, Pain, Happiness, Tragedy, Sin and Benevolence: these only exist within the context of experience and Memory. Forget Nothing! past reruns of life's experiences. Most often the wortst are the most vivid. what quake tore the world and left the families shattered and shadows burned on building sides has not left It is late. I can't take hold. I remember something about my fingertips. Meanwhile/suddenly all shape reorders and something takes on its own blur. This/thus begins the electronic history of the disintegration of that which I will never know, own or articulate. what the hell is going on here real? a portrayal of reality? Our generation must learn to not make the same mistakes that were made in the past. I wish more people could see this side of the net, instead of the mass consumerism that most people see! These memories may be real or just a facimile of similar events and situations...but it doesn't matter-we still get the message.+++ I hope that people of my generation (gen-X) see this side of the internet instead of the cold, unfeeling, snowballing consumerism that numms the minds of our youth.??? Hopefully my generation will see the mistakes of the past and learn. hmmm dooky i was a wookie another been????? wow!!! is the place inside of me more deeper and often more painfull, unknown, that get up in the sea of mind mind like a lost wreck. the lost sea of my infancy psycoapolide long summer evening laying in the wheat fields among the popies eyes closed in the morning. awake. feeling the pain of life. Tragic,yet hopeful. suffering pain worry fear Ghostly residue that changes over time to become clearly seen than when created. All that we know Oldest memory I fear the dark a record of your past a template for your future the thread that ties you to existance 13434 to remember very carefully all what we went throught hello! memories are a vast sea. You may accept them and swim, deny them and drown, or forget them and swim to the safety of the land talking with her for hours about the war and the sisters she lost... memory is a path. where thoughts are running backwards. memories are treasures hidden in it. is........ gone It's an entrapment, an encasing that is meant to control her mind. She will never be who she wants, never sleep when she wants. She will always be subject to the events around ehr because she does not realize that she should stop and smell the roses of life because the insanity will always continue to grow. our memory is the only thing we have to take with us all the little things the scrap books and pictu