Episode 15:"Everything Matters" (July 6, 2003)

When the moon hits the nighttime sky, Like a golf ball stuck in a black dog's eye, When the scarecrows are lame and the pumpkins rot, When the barns are teeming with livestock: There's no fighting it, There's no hiding it, That I need you- At the Harvest Ball.

Episode 14: "New Kids On The Block" (July 3, 2003)

It's been four days since an entry. This is what I call unkempt websites. No, I don't actually care, it's just that I'm so used to opening my entries with phrases like "Gee, it's been too long...", that I can't think of anything else. Here's your sack of jewea: listfactor8 I awakened again today at around 3 o'clock. Of course, now my family is home, so there are people to yell at me for it. I don't know how to cure this nocturnalness...I suppose it doesn't matter though. No one will be there to yell at me for it at college. Then, I can just cope with it on my own. I guess that's one of the biggest things I'm looking forward to when I leave this place: coping with things on my own. Granted, I'll probably snap next year...but even the thought of going insane is exciting, innit? I just got back from seeing the movie 28 Days Later at the South Hills theater. Actually, it was surprisingly good. It's so hard for a horror film to actually succeed plotwise, and as a movie overall. It was extremely violent- but hey, violence never hurt anyone, right? Oh yeah...nevermind. But anyway, I went to see it with about ten people and only me and one other kid liked it, so don't take my word for it unless you have the exact taste as me. Some people have road rage. I have road paranoia. Why do I always get the raw end of the deal? You see, whenever I'm driving on my own (which I barely do), I constantly have this feeling that the driver of the car behind me is throwing their hands up and thinking "What the Hell is this guy doing?" I have the premonition that it'll be a while until I can comfortably drive on my own. Which means: more imprisonment. ^^Cockula^^ It's too late for me to get a job now...what the Hell am I going to do for two months? I'm already bored to tears, just laying around all day. If you're reading this, come to my house and kidnap me at any time. Thank You. Full Moon Pictures functions as my abode AND homeslice. Take that Superman. Mark Hayduk Due to occurrences of mass boredom, I have considered taking up kleptomania. E-mail me if you have anything to say on this. Feel free to give me tips or locations on how or where to steal stuff. Incriminating yourself online is fun. NOTE: If you're a cop reading this, then someone else hacked into my website and wrote this entire bullet. Yes, they even wrote the preceding sentence. And that one too. Pretty stupid of them, huh? Poll of All Seasons: CM Napoleon:What usually keeps you from your room at night? DaJonesMan:monsters CM Napoleon:And what usually keeps you in during the evenings? DaJonesMan:monsters CM Napoleon:Excellent answers. All right then, it looks like I'm done spreading my gayness for the night. Stick around for free Sobes and lollipops if you will. I'll be in my sanctuary feeding my pet ravens.          Tragically Goth,          Payton

Episode 13: "The High Road To Homelessness" (June 29, 2003)

I need to be more attentive to this journal thing...it's been a while since I've had a real entry here. Anyway, here are the nominees: Listdangermouse Last night was another night of revelry I spent by myself. It's kind of weird how I go it alone in such meaningless celebration and indulgence. It's almost like I'm dating myself, which is actually a cool concept. Although it would make me gay... I've actually kept my promise of running on the trail everyday. I shall achieve Sveltedom yet. I'm shooting for the middle of sophomore year in terms of weight. I don't want to be quite as anorexic-looking as freshman year. There are just people like me who need to be a little underweight to feel like they're at normal weight. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I hereby declare myself as a sicko. The Hardback Cafe closed down, and now we've got an office town. You should've stuck around. As I walked up from the trail today back to my household, I looked up the hill and noticed a small fawn right in front of me. It eventually ran off like they always do, but it lingered for a while. And for some reason...it scared the Hell out of me. I know it's only a small fawn, but...why didn't it run away? I thought if I took a step closer, it may have transformed into a shaman or something. This is a sign of paranoia. Everyone in my family except for Erin and I have moved off to the Homestead in Virginia until Wednesday. Which means, I get a few days of precious almost solitude. Not completely, because Erin still lurks about and talks to me. I can still recall the 48 hours I spent in 10th Grade completely home alone. I went great periods of time without ever uttering a word, and it was my decision to turn any light on or off, or have any doorway opened or closed. It sounds silly, but that meant a lot to me. Long live hermitism. I hate the fact that I feel the need to end every one of these bullets with some stupid, random closing sentece thingy. Golf funk wee wee. I didn't get to bed until around 7 AM last night, and then awakened at 4:30 PM with fright. There really wasn't any reason to be afraid, seeing that my parents weren't home to yell at me about it...but still, it freaks me out to wake up at such a late hour. The times when I fall asleep and awaken are growing more and more obscure as the summer progresses. I'm thinking that by August I'll become a total nocturnal, and I shall speak to the owls. I will teach them how to play Canasta...after I learn how to play it... Mark Hayduk Lately, it feels as though my mind has been immersed into ultra-taboo mode. You know that urge you get to laugh out loud at a funeral? Well, that same part of the brain that encourages such a thing is now telling me to relive every embarassing or awful moment of my life. Every time I'm happy, some strange gear begins to turn in my head, and the bad memories reel...the worst ones I can muster...so I find myself cringing. My mind has always worked this way, but it's intensity has increased in the past month or so. It's so bad now, that I can't even write anything on my computer upstairs. For those who aren't in the know, the computer downstairs (the one I'm on right now) is the Internet computer where I distract myself by journeying through utter stupidity to overcome boredom. The computer upstairs in my bedroom is where I write stuff...and that's all I want to explain right now. Anyway, I can't come up with an original thought nowadays without remembering a teacher yelling at me or a family member cussing me out. This is pessimism to the Nth degree. Notify me if you have a remedy for this. Troy Aikmen is dead. The latest heartbreak in my life is the fact that file-sharing is being cracked down on. Yes, lads and lasses, we may be reaching the time where file-sharing is totally impossible. It especially affects me, who doesn't download popular music, only stuff you can't find at the music store. If file-sharing goes the way of parachute pants, how am I supposed to listen to songs by obscure Synth-pop bands from the early 90's? Or discover more great Japanese punk bands? The answer is, I just won't. And life will go from dull to ultra-dull. Eat that. Hi Craig Ultsch...what's your name? A rather depressing entry, so it seems. Well, what comes out comes out. That's the profound statement of the day. I think now, I'm going to go upstairs to my bedroom, close the blinds, and pretend my life mirrors a Jane Austen novel. Take care for the night and hold your killing spree off for another day.          Have a nice Holiday,          Payton

Episode 12:"The Pharmacy Is Low" (June 26, 2003)

Seven More Minutes A poem by Matt Sharp a movement of decadence and celebration drifting loosely in and out of short days and long nights in the back of a taxi rolling through scenes of afterhour discos and all night sex shows a quiet house without telephones or english stepping out of the club into the harsh noon light shaking all responsibility, staying out of your head all day songs written in bathroom stalls, narrow allyways and cheap hotels lazing around far from everyone under an assumed name, smoking hundreds of cigarettes ... laughter lost in the haze in restuarants at midnight long conversations that let the day pass by slowly ...reckless evenings homelessness, friendship, and silence ...in and out of focus sound of old music boxes running out of steam, while the tensions before the concert builds sing-along drinking songs, rock'n'roll shuffles, trances, anthems, epic ballads the electricity of the opening blast, thrusting you into this world musicians, transvestites, writers, dancers, painters, bartenders, dj's and yourself the warmth of sun through a dirty winshield ...lyrics that are in the moment music that is a catalyst. taking you into situations were you wouldn't normally be allusions to drugs, affairs, and old european trains ...sexuality a freedom in diversity ...the absinthe clarifies the importance of albums in our lives the sound in the backround while memories roll people, places, concerts, parties...where you were...who you were with more enegetic, more open, more aggressive, more optimistic, more explosive, more ...just an excuse to get together mysterious, romantic, and glamorous zoom out, pull out, and see the direction you're heading pop stars that slide in the studio discreetly, dirty studios at 4 a.m. familiar faces blow in and out casually the rentals are a place, not a band, a place to collaborate ...hang out and create I don't understand it didn't produce it or create it but she said I directed it ...then the train leaves for Kensal Greene Donna Matthews, Petra Haden, Tim Wheeler, Maya Rudolph, Damon Alburn, Chris Shaw, Rivers Cuomo, Miki Berenyi, Sean and Paul ...and a hundred others ...all drift in and out into underground studios all over London ...briefly in New York, Los Angeles and Boston the century closes down and Matrix is the only place left standing andy's yelling "come on lads, let's have it!" boys made the music without expectations ...without interference later the women arrived ...days months years ...I don't know and he can't remember the era we are coming into, you can see it from everywhere ...in the clubs, in film, in art the ability to experience a moment without having to look over your shoulder sing out of tune, cheat on soul mates, dance wildly, and don't care who's watching no more endless amounts of sarcasm, irony's lost, bitterness gone, guilt gained/forgotten you put everything at risk: your money, health, sanity, future and all your relationships, family, friends, old band mates, girlfriends, record execs ...and the music press ...everyone given shelter, removed, uprooted, and lost ...getting by and breaking through couch to couch, place to place, studio to studio ...day to day... and disco to disco to disco high speed photographs taken with hidden cameras ...the pills are in the kitchen the movement of smoke that slides down your throat ..the relief it brings drift out somewhere off the main path, away from what you're accustomed to go out... drop out... phase out... and at 5 in the morning, pick up the pace poems left on answering machines ...studios built in churches there's no need to force it... it... it will happen naturally welcomed, embraced, and dancing without cynicism for the first time in your life children sing in the afternoon. ...blocks away you slide back into bed with your cats sleeping in the day ...living and writing at night shakers and tambourines, electric and acoustic guitars ...old pianos and dime store synths laughing, singing, jumping, decieving, and sleeping with you ...I heard you singing high on the sly with a bottle of Ed's red. it was a passionate scene. that was all about well ...something, whatever. they critisized. I slid away at the end of the run ...incognito calm and peaceful with not much to go back to ...the pharmacy is low but there's still time for one more disco they take you in and say "this is your home," but you know you have to leave the alarm keeps going off ...and you keep hitting the snooze "7 more minutes, please" ..."seven more minutes"

Episode 11:"My Aberdeen" (June 24, 2003)

Gee...I skipped two days since the last entry. Seems like bad news. Bad News Baseball. I'm not sorry or anything-- it was because I was kidnapped by Scott Wells, Jeff Saporito, and Amy McCall last night without warning. They broke into my room as I was laying on the bed in darkness and listening to the album "I Dig Your Mainframe" by Svelte. They're lucky I was decent. After I was kidnapped, we broke into Randy Stepusin's house too. We talked with a newly-awakened Randy for around twenty minutes then left. For some reason, I consider it to be one of the coolest things I've ever done. SIDENOTE: I found out his little brother is afraid to sleep in his room because he thinks demons from Hell blast him with plasma. I don't know what to say about that. I don't want to refute it or anything... Later that night, we all went down to Peters Lake, and walked around the beaten pathway in total darkness. That was great, because your imagination really takes flight whenever you're in the dark and afraid/amused. We sat at one part of the lake, and I told Scott: "Imagine what it would be like if Frankenstein was trampling along the moorlands, than snuck up on us right now and picked both of us up and said 'Party on, Connor[Payton] and Scott!' in a Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure voice and then threw us into the lake." He liked the idea and added: "Yeah...and then as we were falling, we say 'You're riiiight!'" Somehow he always manages to make my imaginings better...UH. Very late night/early morning I was in Scott's family room, and watched the worst movie I've ever seen- Sextette. I know I've claimed many movies beforehand to be the worst...The Sandfairy, The Neverending Story Part III, Leprachaun 5: Leprachaun In The Hood, The Sandfairy Returns...the list goes on and on. But this one, lads and lasses, takes the cake. Sextette is a late 70's/early 80's movie about some famous Hollywood starlit who is scheduled to be married for the sixth time- this time to some British debonair. The entire movie takes place in some lobby in London, and it is a musical. If being a musical weren't bad enough, all of the songs are previously famous songs that were ripped off, interpreted horribly, and now have no choreography. And what's the clincher, you ask? What makes this movie worse than all the others? I'll tell you why: because the "Sextette" in this movie is played by Mae West when she's 82 YEARS OLD!!! And her fiancé is only around 30...and every guy in the movie hits on her...and, and...oh God, I must move on... Last night, I decided that I want to try and start talking to total strangers on the Internet. This has always appeared to be a creepy concept to me, but now that the Internet is so integral to our lives, it only intrigues me. The idea of becoming friends with someone who lives somewhere completely distant is so wonderous. I'm not sure how honest I'd be with those people though...would I lie to them to look keen? I hope not. Then again, The Sean Christopher Weekend is always here at their disposal. mhsinger1003:so connor mhsinger1003:when r you and me going to walk again? CM Napoleon: You and I shall walk again someday. CM Napoleon: IN SPACE Why wasn't there a list today? Why do they ask for your phone number when you buy batteries at Radio Shack? Why does every cowboy, on some obscure night, sing a sad, sad song? All these questions and more answered NEVER.          Have a nice Holiday,          Payton

Episode 10:"Oh Jonas" (June 21, 2003)

Yes kids, that's correct. I live. I survived. I, in fact, am still alive after the graduation party. I am as shocked as you, mon frere. I am now going to type this out slowly, in list form, explaining how this happened. Join me. List-ay I woke up at around noon today, and thought: "Gee, how shall I sort out my party schedule?" I quickly decided to attack Kevin Beganics' party first. I went there, and looked at several random sheetlets of paper that had numbers printed on them. They were for track. I also looked through some old photo-albums of his. They featured, among other things, a photograph of him dressed as a 1980's businessman, mullet and all. I cry. Also, there was a picture of him as a newborn baby with pink aviators. I cry secondly. If only the awesomeness of those pictures could be harnassed for the powers of good, fighting against the forces of neutrality... At around 4 o'clock, I decided it was time to attack Mike Wolenski's party next. Luckily, it was located at Peterswood Park (like Kevin's was)...so I simply walked up the hill to it. I trudged through mud, in semi-preppy clothing to get there. Curiously enough, I entered the wrong pavilion. Some kind of family reunion was going on where I was. A few minutes into the party, I realized I was out of place...I was not part of the family. Sad, though. For those few minutes, I felt like I belonged....I cry. At Wolenski's party, I looked at a deluxe collage of Mike Wolenski photos from throughout the years. The most exquisite part of it was seeing a pair of black, thick-rimmed glasses he owned at age 7 which cover half the face. I want a pair of glasses like that. I would look so incredibly deluxe in them- perhaps I could wear one of those gray, grandfather suits with them. Then I could paint the town beige... After Wolenkis's bash, I next invaded the abode of Nick Corris. After a brief conversation in which Mr. and Mrs. Corris and I mused about how they almost killed me one night by feeding me shrimp (remind me to tell that story on a latter date...), I was whisked away to Nick's backyard, in which we talked about how we would take over the world in 2007. "Shoving is the answer," Nick suggested. "No, my compadre," I chimed in. "The answer is false. Always false." This answer caused confusion abroad. I drink Pepsi and left. Then, it was time to get ready for my own shin-dig. I can't describe how fearful I was of this party...I also can't describe why. I don't even know why. I jittered about the driveway outdoors as I awaited the first guests. And who were they, you ask? Turn the page to find out... You guessed it, Jason Donald and Ray Terza. They were the only guests for a prolonged amount of time...we played pool mostly, and thought about getting our lips pierced. They left at almost the exact time that the next wave of partygoers arrived. On to the next bullet, young'uns... I wanna stunt your growth, GRRRL. Jeff Saporito, Amy McCall, Scott Wells, Kevin Wells and Carly Apanamian(shamelessly spelled wrong) came next. It was especially surprising that Kevin and Carly were there, because they were supposed to be building roofs somewhere in rural territory...okay, I don't really feel like listing every single person that came to this party, or even the order, so let's all forget about that. I'm kind of tuckered out right now, and God knows I'm not good at keeping logical thoughts stored in my brain. Let's have some crazy-go-nuts bullets: There was lots of strange hugging situations today. You realize, I'm not a hugger. But lots of people, male and female, young and old, hugged me today. It was okay for the most part, but something from the dark recess of your soul just makes you want to cringe and hide out in a damp corner that mimics your mother's womb. Whoa, that was trippy. Mark Hayduk At one part, my party developed into two distinct groups of people, sitting at opposite sides of the driveway. I realized there would be factions at the party, but two is an ugly number. For a while, I felt like Robin Williams at the climax of Mrs. Doubtfire...jumping from each of the two tables..."I love you!"..."I love you!"..."No, I still love you guys!"..."But you guys! You guys are great!" NOTE: Payton Murphy did not actually make any of the previous love-related statements tonight, or any other night. He is lifeless machine, just like your parents who didn't hug you enough. Thank You. Graduation parties always warrant a good deal of money and gifts. These are always nice gestures, and yet I feel this strange sort of guilt when receiving them. I guess that's just another quirk. In fact, for a time at the party, I took out this big bag at my garage, and labeled it my "Bag of Fear". I put all the opened cards and presents there...awaiting to open them at a later date. You see, I was fearful to open them in front of everyone- would my reaction to the gift be too mild? Or maybe too over-the-top? No one could say for sure. My Bag of Fear sat in my garage for hours, resting there. Grinning. Mocking me. PAYTON...there is no escape. You cannot leave me. I hold all the guilt, all the embarassment, all the effusive messages...YOU MUST OPEN ME!! Soon, the entire bag consumed and I was lost in oblivion, never to be seen again. The End? Karl Marx's Inferno Film-Feast A lot less embarassment went on today than I predicted. So that means, kids, today will not be my last day on Earth. I have plans to wake up tomorrow to another morning, but that guy with the knife in my nightmares always holds a threat. We'll see. Oh Jonas, indeed. Well, the bulk of Graduation parties are behind me now, including my own. Tomorrow will be a day that lacks any kind of fear or anxiety. Something I haven't felt since before Junior year. I may reach Nirvana tomorrow, and thence stop writing journal entries. If that happens, please excuse me...I'll just no longer care. It's time for me to go to bed and slip out of this cramped, dive nook of the Net. Till next time, Surfer Girls.          Have a nice Holiday,          Payton

Episode 9:"Some Flowers & Some Dudes" (June 19, 2003)

Here we are. Spirits in the material world. listfudge I'd like to somehow retract the previous entry, or semi-apologize for it...only, I don't know how. Maybe it's best to leave what happened alone. We can all just pretend it never happened and get on with our lives. Thank you. I've been in one of the strangest moods ever today. I keep on experiencing hot flashes. You're not supposed to get those things until you're like 70 too. Just profuse sweating, light-headedness, and the feeling of a faint coming on keeps on happening. As we speak, it's happening. Am I really typing this right now? I don't know...maybe it's all an illusion. Someone get me some DRUGZ. Yee. Hot flashes aside, today has been strange all over. I woke up around 3:30 PM today, and scurried into the bathroom just so no one in my family would break in and say: "What the Hell are you doing??? It's the afternoon!" Days that seem to last for about nine hours are always a waste. Than, there are times when your whole life seems like one of those nine-hour days. But I can always drink a can of soda and get over it. If I had one of those fancy, new-fangled "LiveJournal" type websites, this entry would probably read "Current Mood: Violent". I'm usually a nice, laid-back person, it's true. But with that comes a lot of repression. As a result, there are random blips in my life where I become filled with insanity and rage. I am sitting here right now, thinking about anyone who's ever made a joke about me or wronged me in any way...and I am imagining shooting them all in a mad, effusive rampage. Awesome, isn't it? This entry is taking me back to earlier times...I'm typing away in a crazed dash right now, hoping to finish before Conan comes on. I'm also typing fast so I don't faint before I finish, and can't save. If you're reading this right now, that means I made it. The real question is: is that good or bad? Today, I went to T.G.I. Friday's, where I saw someone at the other table on a laptop computer. "Odd", I thought. "Yet, a great concept," I thought secondly. When I'm an adult that lives alone, I'll probably go out by myself a lot...and why not have a computer there. I mean, reading Nihilistic literature and looking at porn goes perfectly with T.G.I. Friday's potato-skin appetizer. So Internet, I welcome you to my dinner routine. Thank you, and God bless. Wow, this hot-flash thing is becoming real bad news...I think I'm experiencing auditory hallucinations now...Cokie? Who's Cokie? Dead body under the stairs you say?...HA HA HA HA! Airy-sex, resurfacing ships! I concur! How now the brown dothermims? I known't, Counzel. How D day. How D day too. How. Mark Hayduk I hate The New Kids on The Block because someone said that they're bad. I'm trying to think of some good midi file I can put to this journal. It should probably something creepy/scary-sounding, in keeping with the theme. Actually, the theme is imaginary, but I want creepy to be a part of it. I have this one midi file called "Spooky Bells" which I could totally dig going with this layout. Or, option #2: You call me up on the phone while reading this website, and I serenade you with 1930's pop songs. The choices are yours and yours alone. I wanna hold you till the Sehnsucht takes full throttle. It feels like this will be another all-nighter. Sometimes I feel like I'll turn into a complete nocturnal, and thence become a total recluse who shoots at people who walk on their property. That would only make this journal twice as funny though. Wow...I'm quivering. I think I need to lay down in the basement. Conan O'Brien awaits. If I'm found dead tomorrow, than this entry will give some vague clues as to why. Until my last dying breath, I am your compadré, and now I must exit.          Have a nice Holiday,          Payton

Episode 8:"Thought-eats, part I" (June 17, 2003)

I still think in terms of Mega Man games. I just want to listen to creepy Synth music and crawl away. As we fight on by the white-state tourists. Shut up. Eat. I realize now that I'm extremely misanthropic...I just think it's hilarious to falsely be nice to people. Two roads diverged in a wood. I looked at both of them and laughed as nausea appeared in my stomach. Dynamite was attained, and the entire wood was destroyed. Shock, shock, horror, horror, shock, shock, horror. I'll shout myself hoarse for your supernatural force. B-Movie Mania at the Discount Harem. I wish Jack Nicholson was real sometimes. I just worry about me sometimes; because no you don't. Revolutionary, postmodern superbadity. Sheiks and Sikhs who work at Sheetz. We should have lots of guns in it...with shooting and stuff. I should shoot YOU. In a mesozoic era, in a hooverville, in a dirge. Frankenstein is the most common surname in the United States. I will perish soon, my esquire. Hitting microphones. Tossing hats. Why a Suburb when I have the jungle-jetplane? We don't shop anymore in this household. We don't shop. We just sit. Sit around while looking at... CHESHIRE CATS          Serious,          Not

Episode 7:"Les Plume De Le Tante" (June 16, 2003)

SHUT UP. We're starting the journal now. LISTWEAPONS DEATH. DESTRUCTION. PRUNE DANISHES. MORE DEATH. LOTS MORE DESTRUCTION. EVEN MORE PRUNE DANISHES. I must tell you all now about the awesome discovery I made online a few nights ago. Here it is: Bonegarden It's a virtual haunted house. It's really not all that scary, but it's huge advance in the World Wide Web in my book. I've found a bunch more links to virtual haunted things since that one, so call me up and ask for them if you want. I'll probably think you're a loser if you actually call my house for that reason, but don't let that stop you. I finally listend to the album Hail To The Thief by Radiohead today after purchasing it a week ago. I just need to have the exact right conditions to listen to new music. Anyway, it's flippin' brilliant (as they would say)...the weird electronica is enough to make me cringe in satin sheets in the night while wearing an eyemask. But you don't have to take my word for it (Reading Rainbow sound effect ensues). Wenderkreisen Today was another non-descript, languid day of the summer where I stayed in my bedroom and kept my daycare center tan in tip-top shape. However, this type of day may end soon, as I applied to Blockbuster today. They said they want an interview at 11:00 AM on Wednesday. Perhaps this summer shan't be as languid as the last. Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps. I can see my house. I need a phone call. I need a raincoat. I need a sunburn. I need a train ride. I need a big love. I've recently decided that I want to make myself out to be as apolitical as possible. I've decided this after going to countless message boards on the Internet filled with people who are all there because of a common interest- whether it be a band, a TV Show, a movie, a genre, or whatever. Threads are often started where some issue is brought to the forefront and then endless arguments go on and on for pages. Similar things happen in real life, when I hear people argue about current events. To me, 99% of it is b.s., so I've decided to stay clear of it altogether. I'm remaining apolitical, because I don't think any of the constant bickering will make any changes. What's the point of arguing endlessly? I'm not sure if I'll include this attitude towards voting. I may still vote as an adult, although I'll probably vote for stupid people as a joke. Or, I've also thought about voting for myself in every election I'm eligible to vote for, because who would be better to meet my demands than myself? Basically, I plan on deliberately throwing away my vote to make a statement. What a terrible idea. I must now embrace it. Mark Hayduk I have to wake up tomorrow at around 8 AM so the cleaning ladies can go through our house, dust a few surfaces, and rearrange all my stuff. It angers me like a canker sore disco ball. Having cleaning ladies is probably the main deterrant for teenagers hiding porn in their rooms. But I wouldn't know...Would I? Okay...that'll be suffice. Let's make a deal- you continue to sit at your computer and stare at the screen for approximately 24 hours, then hit the "Refresh" button on your browser, and magically another journal entry will appear in this very window. For now though, my own "Plume" is finished, and my "Tante" has gone home. Isn't it great how everything ties in on this website? You're right, it doesn't. Crows.          Have a nice Holiday,          Payton

Episode 6:"Superbad Ideas" (June 15, 2003)

Okay, another day, another episode. I feel on the ball now. Well, not in the whole scheme of things...just in this crappy cubby-hole of the Web. Let's start the party. LYST Here I am, put into summer mode once again. Funny how I associate online journals with the end of the school year and the beginning of summer now. I'm sure if I ever had an online journal during the winter it would be a lot more dark and depressing. Come to think of it, I'm in to dark and depressing literature. There's another reason to keep the Weekend going for as long as possible. OFF THE WALL. Today, I stopped by at yet another Graduation Party. I find these Grad Parties strange situations. Formal, adults and children, people coming in and out by the hour...I still don't know how mine will turn out. There are about eight other people that I know of who have a party on my day, and that could help or hurt my cause. But I digress. Anyway, I went to Nicole Gasse's Graduation Party today. It was quite the goodness, although I did have to do some clever maneuvering to avoid playing volleyball. Volleyball...*ugh*...the thought of it makes me cringe. That, and badminton. All those lurid sports that have a net separating the two teams...even ping-pong is evil when the little net is up. Only then, mon frere. Only then. I've realized that this time around, the journal entries have shorter lists and longer thoughts. Does this mean I'm actually developing the ability to stay on one subject? Who knows? This journal may evolve into one continuous entry for each day. I'm sure that calls for a minor celebration somewhere on a small island in Guam. I think now, I'd like to officially announce the death of the Quote of Brilliancy. I've always hated quotes anyway. It's kinda like what Ralph Waldo Emerson said:"I hate quotations. Tell me what you know." Er...I guess that was today's quote of brilliancy. Maybe I'll announce the death of it tomorrow. We'll see how I feel then. When will it be "Priestess Week", Ma? Today, at the party, someone took a few pictures of me on their digital camera. You know, the kind where you can see the picture on the little screen? Well, I took a look at the picture, and came to the shocking realization that my face is round. Yeah...round face. Or maybe it's elongated. I don't know, it kind of made me mad. I could be anorexic, and still look fat in the face. What would Jyoti Mishra say? Tonight, I ran three miles on the trail and came damn near to fainting on the side of the path. I had to sit down in the grass and just felt the sweat drip off like gatorade from Superbowl-winning coach. I don't think I ever had that much sweat drip off my body before either. It just came off like melted ice cream...kinda freaky. I just imagine that it's globules of fat coming out of me, and running like that every day will bring me back to Sveltedom. Let this all be in our prayers. Mark Hayduk Where is my mind? Sometimes I have the unrealistic aspiration of converting this website into one of those weirdo maze-like websites, vis-a-vis www.Superbad.com (go there NOW if you've never seen it), or www.requiemforadream.com. I have enough quirky pictures and sounds for it...but think of all the work it would take. But look out- one of these days you may come to this very address expecting a journal, and then find yourself face to face with a queero noveau website. Hey, it could happen. (McWorld!!!!) And then, to top it all off, ninjas pull up to your driveway. Okay everybody, ninjas pulling up to your driveway is where I draw the line. I'm gonna have to call it a night and close off the writing process. My lovely Internet will now be cut off from my mind, and I will bid all of you beautiful Toucan Shazaam-loving indigo immigrants a fond farewell. I will now retire upstairs where I will have a nice, tall glass of Agent Orange Cola, and consequently convulse myself to sleep.          Have a nice Holiday,          Payton

Episode 5:"Sunset Strip" (June 14, 2003)

I don't want to go to the Sunset Strip. I don't want to feel the emptiness. They have fake marquis, And stupid band names, I don't want to go to the Sunset Strip.

Episode 4:"Eve of The Live Fantastic" (June 13, 2003)

Haha.....Haha....HAHA....HA!!!! The time has come. It's springtime for Payton; it's winter for PTHS and school. I graduated tonight and now there is not a single clutch of the district on me. In a blip of time, I will flee this rural pseudo-suburb and become the apex of revolution and defiance. But for now, a journal entry. Kiss the listy stone I've been telling myself that after tonight, I'll be going into hibernation. I imagine that tonight, sometime around 6 AM, I will go to bed and slumber for months on end, like a mammal in the winter. It's a very comforting thought after a grueling age has ended. I suggest you try it. "Hibernation". Well, graduation was held indoors, which I thought we would be spared of. Apparently they were afraid of rain, or tornadoes, or hurricanes. The knaves! It seemed smaller scale because it was indoors, but oh well...I just wanted it to be done. And now, here I sit in this dark study, typing away with months ahead of me of sitting in dark rooms and typying. I find that almost interesting. A bunch of my friends brought bullhorns to sound off whenever we threw up our hats at the end. It was great act of anarchy and dissention...or at least as far as lame-o's can go without being arrested. Jeff Narus A note about the paranoia from yesterday: It's now I realize how stupid that whole ordeal was. Why did I even care about people's editorial comments? Low and behold, I didn't win any awards (good), and now I feel stupid for all the unneeded fear. I caught a few seconds of Oprah today, and they were dealing with this one girl who was trying to overcome her morbid fear of clowns(Which, by the way, is called "Coulrophobia"- I knew that somehow), and this therapist handed her a pea. He said that it symbolized the part of your brain that emits the emotion fear. And we can all overcome peas, right? That was his rationale. Sure, I can eat peas, and even squash them with my feet. But answer me this- what if they were super-intelligent, fear-emitting peas who knew what made you cringe in your sheets at night? Those are the kind of peas that I can't handle. Thank You. Today's quote of brilliancy: "YEAH STAN THE MAN!"- everyone in my graduating class. Everyone in my graduating class, I applaude you. After graduation, my relatives and I all went to eat at Rolling Hills. There was a general amount of awkwardness and embarassment I had to cleverly avoid in the conversation, but nothing I couldn't handle. I ordered my dinner off of the "Kidz Menu". Yes, that's right, "Kidz". It seemed ironic that I just graduated from high school, and yet my taste buds were so immature that I had to resort to chicken fingers and french fries. But I won't sweat it. It tasted better than any crappy small portion of meat with red-baked potatoes. Plus, the children's menu had dinosaurs on it. S C O T L A N D And now, there is only one stressful part of my life: The Graduation Party. June 21st. My life may end that day, or it may plunk along till the Fall. My main fear here is that the Worlds of Payton will collide. Remember that episode of Seinfeld where George's fiancé becomes friends with Elaine? See, he was worried that the Worlds of George would collide. I have a similar situation. Friends from one clique, friends from another intertwining at my own household, and then you have to factor in my family members. Yes, the worlds of Payton will collide and a massive supernova of anti-socialness will explode across my backyard and pain mixed with melancholy will come flowing down the hill towards the woods. Mark Hayduk The mission of becoming obsessed with drama/soap shows is coming along. I'm kind of becoming addicted to Melrose Place, and I hear Felicity is aired on Oxygen at some time during the week. I'll look into that. The only question left is, why am I doing this? You and you alone can answer. And now to figure out where I'll work this summer. I hear Blockbuster is desperate. The 76 gas station is close-by, plus there's a good chance that it'll get robbed, and that would be awesome! Then, there's always good old robbing and pillaging. Stay tuned for what I end up doing. For now, my Cosmic Danish telephone company-endorsing compadres, I am finished. But tomorrow is another day. I will have full freedom from any school or affiliation tomorrow, and will wake up filled with vigor on a glorious morning. Of course, this will probably be around 3 or 4 PM when I wake up. It's still glorious in my head though.          Have a nice Holiday,          Payton

Episode 3:"Fight Kennywood! For Everlasting Peace!" (June 12, 2003)

That's right, everyone...three episodes and I've already skipped two days. In case you care, it's because I couldn't go online at all yesterday. Well, I've learned not to be apologetic about that. I think in The Sean Christopher Weekend, I won't try and force myself to do one every single day. That way, it won't die off easily like the other two editions. I just can't make this one feel like a chore. Well kids, without further adieu- Kennywood Day by Payton. Listing in the Sheeves In the past year or so, as I looked back on the previous journals (as I do, because of my sheer lameness), I came to the conclusion that the Kennywood Day entry from sophomore year was my best entry. Yet, I can't promise anything good today- mainly because I was only there for about 3 hours today. Yes, it was shorter, but actually much more entertaining than Sophomore year...let's see why, kids! I went on the Racer as the first ride, as is traditionally done. It's weird that the ride is so wimpy, and yet every time I go down that first hill, I feel like I'm going to vomit my innards out. Maybe it's excitement. Or maybe it's because I'm ILLEGIT. Of course, the scariest part of Kennywood is on the Jackrabbit when you take that second jump and almost fly out of the car. Actually it's not scary at all. Although, whenever I'm on a rollercoaster I always try and think of something to scream out. For some reason, it always helps with nausea. If I yell out something like "Count Duckula just killed Big Pussy!" or "I'm selling drugs on this roller coaster!" or "This one's for you, Kyle Patel!", then I'm good on any ride. ANY. I went on the Old Mill as well, because I wanted to go on at least one of those crappy haunted rides. I went on with Amy McCall, Scott Wells, and Jeff Saporito. None of us really think it's scary...we all said we were going as a joke. But in our hearts, we all knew it was secretly so we could make out with each other. Today's Quote of Brilliancy: "I am the mighty slumbering Balt"- Joseph Gaigalas. Joseph, I applaude you. Today I won first place at Kennywood. Wait- WHAT THE HELLL?!?!?!?!? Oh wait, I just thought of something to add for that Old Mill ride- it actually was scary this time, because the boat almost tipped over. I think it was because the three heaviest people were all on the left side. Actually...that's definitely the reason why, now that I think of it. Anyway, I thought the boat was going to capsize and the six of us soon to be ex-PTHS ingrates would drown in the cold, dirty water of the dark, narrow tunnel and not be discovered until tonight. We all certainly deserved to anyway. In a way, the bus ride back home was just as interesting as the actual park...maybe more. Possibly because I spent most of it talking about death and destruction with Scott Wells. It was cool, because I came to the slow realization that I'm evil. Things just kind of casually slipped out in our conversation, most of it being prurient (not in a sexual way), but I really meant it. So I've casually accepted the fact that I'm evil, and few things keep me from acting on my thoughts. You'd think that realizing you're evil would be kind of a downer...but personally, I think it's hilarious. Oh, and Scott is downright malevolent, so he didn't care either. Mark Hayduk And so, tomorrow is graduation. There's only one more situation where I might embarrass myself in front of my class, and then I'm home free. This "situation" is that stupid fake awards show thing they have for the graduating class. You know, they announce things like "Most likely to become a model", or "best personality", and stuff like that. I think they'll probably announce the awards tomorrow morning (but I hope to God not), and I'm worried that I might win one. If I do win one, some people in the audience will probably think I suck, and might yell out "queer" or something like that. Now, I realize that this is a ridiculous phobia. In fact, it's so ridiculous, I almost deleted what I just typed. But maybe it's important that I list this irrational social fear...why do I even care if someone does that? Maybe it's an issue I have to deal with. Oh well, it's the last day of school ever tomorrow, so I could strip on stage and even then the repercussions wouldn't be that bad. Not that I'm going to do that... Rock n' Roll Martian, Rock n' Roll! Woot-Woot! It hasn't really sunk in that most of the people that I'm graduating with tomorrow I'll never see again. It doesn't really make me sad, as I said before, it's just a different perspective. I mean, my initial mental reaction to this was that next fall, I'll be back at school with the same people and I'll say to my friends "Wow, we really did graduate and go off to college." But that's not going to be what happens, for obvious reasons. Have a good life everybody. Okay, there's where the mini-Kennywood Day entry ends. I'm sure I'll have a lot to say tomorrow after graduation, so...bring windex for your screen. I believe it's time to hide under the covers of my bed now and secretly convey emotions, so if you don't mind, I will now exit.          Evil,          Payton

Episode 2:"The Day I Defeated High School" (June 10, 2003)

Well kids, it was only a matter of time. After the last real day of school, finally, I have slain the beast. High school is dead, and is never coming back. Hail to fading out into obscurity. I don't really feel too emotional about it...or relieved. I guess because of the three b.s. days I have to float through till Friday. Anyway, let's start the list, Garp. Count Listacula I've currently been watching re-runs of the show Melrose Place on the Style channel on weekdays. I don't know why though. My goal is to become obsessed with every Soap Opera/Nighttime drama on TV this summer until I become really deluded and end up shooting up a bank. Yay. Tonight was the scholarship awards ceremony at PTHS. It was probably one of the most boring things I have ever experienced. It was like watching British dart-throwing tournaments on television...but not the topless kind. DAMN. I went through another trance of slumber today when I got home. If I hit that leather couch in the basement before I hit a can of soda-pop, then boom, I'm done with consciousness. I then abruptly awaken at dinner time, where my parents accuse me of being in a coma. What a vicious cycle that was. Oh well, school has been defeated, and so I no longer have to go through with it. HAIL times two. In case you don't know where I'll be next fall- Fordham University. It's in New York. That's right, I'll be plenty far away from this sack of Hell. This way, I could become anything from a street Bohemian to an axe-murderer to a monk. RAWK. Today's quote of brilliancy:"I'm having a retirement party soon." - Mike Wolenski. Mike, I applaude you. I realized today in school that I'll never see most of the kids there ever again. I don't know what to think of that, really- I suppose I never got that attached to this place, but it's a bizarre situation to think about. I guess now is the time I resign myself to fighting bad guys and coming up with zany ideas for nutritious breakfast foods. I said one, two, three and to the four. Douggy Sunshine and his girl at the door. And for the record: be a player-hater. It's better. Mark Hayduk Sorry I didn't have an entry yesterday. I know it's a little early to already be slacking off on this project, but I never got a chance to get on. That's what it's like for six people to share one computer. Think the Brady Bunch with their one bathroom. On second thought...no, don't think that. Never think that. Come this fall, I'll have a computer of my own, and The Sean Christopher Weekend will reign supreme and devour my entire life until lunacy and irrational emotions become the kings of my demesne. FAT! Has anyone else been reading Beck's blog? It's pretty cool. The things he writes about are almost as great as his song lyrics. I love his vocabulary too. Look at it at the following link: BECK BLOG. Go. Why? Cause you're a loser, baby. I should probably make some kind of comment on the senior prank: Uh...it existed. Yeah, I guess support the kids who did the prank. I've been feeling nihilstic in the past few months, so I support any act of anarchy on behalf of our students. In fact, if they approached me, I could actually see myself participating in the prank. It would be like Fight Club for losers. The story of my life. Okay kids...that's all you're getting for free. I think I after I save this entry, I'll finally put this bad-boy on the Internet and make it public. The Sean Christopher Weekend will be known to all. Look out moon, look out space, look out robotic Gods of my cybermind. It has risen.          Have a nice Holiday,          Payton

Episode 1: "Once Upon A Time In Exordium..." (June 8, 2003)

Yes, children...that's correct. I have returned. After almost two years of hibernation, this infernal journal has decided to rise from the ashes. I can't really explain why it's happened again...perhaps no one can. All I can say is that I've had the increasing desire to write meaningless crap on the Internet- the grandest institution ever created- and then send it out to the brain cells of all of your absorbing minds.       Well, a lot has happened since the summer going into 11th Grade...I felt a slight bit of contentment in the beginning of that school year, had a nervous breakdown during that winter, recovered (slightly), kind of had a rise and fall in Thespians, and...the whole college thing. I figured now would be the most interesting time to begin a new journal. It's going to strattle the last week of high school ever,a summer with my first job, and then moving out of this Hellhole and into college. These will be interesting, turbulent times, mon frere. I'm glad they're going to be documented. That is...if laziness doesn't conquer me before then.       This third edition of the journal has its own title: The Sean Christopher Weekend. I came up with that phrase spontaneously a few months ago, and had this whole idea in the works ever since then. In a way, it's the perfect title. It's a meaningless title, of a meaningless journal, of a meaningless life. I think this time, I may eventually go list-free. Don't get me wrong, it'll still have no flow or cogency at all...I just want to break free from bullets. Anyway...without further adieu...The Sean Christopher Weekend. Brrr! I just got chills up my spine. I just typed in the HTML for creating a list for the first time in almost two years....Oh list, how I've yearned for your gentle touch! Thank You. You know, for the past year and a half or so, I've kind of had a private journal on my other computer. The computer in my room has no Internet connection, so I just kind of sat there and typed away once a month or so...usually when I was in the depths of despair (that's when you need to write). They weren't as funny as the other two journal versions were. I guess having an audience makes the difference. I mean, I wouldn't mention half the things from that journal on here. This journal is sort of like the Andy Warhold journal- the aesthetic becomes the point...there is no depth. I feel so empty now...(kills self). Embarassed cause their friends still listen to Elvis. I've come up with a new concept in life: underground television. You've heard of underground art, underground music, and even underground theater...but I watch underground television. You see, the TV in my basement has digital cable. Instead of watching crappy major network prime-time stuff, I just watch some obscure channel, like BBC America, the Discovery Channel for Kids, or Biography International, and watch some TV show that nobody's ever heard of. It makes me feel really cool and avant-garde on the inside. Oh crap, I'm going to go kill myself again for saying that...(kills self again). Tonight is the Baccalaureate for our senior class. I don't think I'll be attending it. Part of it has to do with the fact that I'm massively lazy on Sundays,part of it has to do with the fact that I'm not exactly "true to my school", and part of it has to do with the fact that I don't know what the Hell a "baccalaureate" is. You decide. You know what I've done a lot this school year? Laid in bed. Not sleep...just lay. Close the blinds, turn the lights off, and go under the blankets. They say that that's one of the initial signs of depression, but I don't think that's quite what was going on. It's really just a good opportunity to daydream in a world of grueling work and mindless small-talk. Stuff like that will keep you from becoming a hermit in your future life. Then again, the idea of being a hermit intrigues me... Okay, I'm not so sure if I still want to do this...but here it goes: The quote of brilliancy. "I haven't gotten a chance to shine yet...but I'll be bigger than The Beatles!"- kid from Dream Street. Kid from Dream Street, I applaude you. God speed to all you do. And now it's time to talk about the much-debated name change. As a lot of you may know, my middle name is "Payton". Now, I've been debating for some time whether I should go by my middle name whenever I ship off to college. My first name used to be a cool name that no one else had...now it's one of those trendy names like "Hunter" or "Dylan" that every young mom names their son. Due to its increasingly commonality, I want to go by my middle name, and because I simply like it better. In a way, it seems like an affectation to change your name, but it's not like I'm legally switching it; it's just a middle name. Although anyone who doesn't know that would think I went all hout couture on them and changed it to something exotic. The issue is eating me up...contact me sometime and give me your input; I'd like to hear it. Unless, of course, you're some kind of perverted conspiracy-theorist that happened to stumble upon this site. Thank You. FIGHT THE FUTURE!!!! What's with the sudden epidemic of away messages on AIM? Nowadays, I sign on and there will be 22 people on my buddy's list- 2 will be actually conscious, and 20 will have an away message up. It used to be that you only put an away message up if you take a bathroom break or whatever. Have people just figured out that they can leave their computers on that long? Or maybe Personal Infos have become the tabloids of the new millenium and they feel they need to be accessible at all time...yeah, I'll go with that one. It's cooler. Mark Hayduk I think this summer, I need to get back into the habit of running until I almost puke on the trail everyday. That's the way things were on the summer going into ninth grade. Sure, I was accused of being anorexic back then, but at least I was comfortable with my body. I'm not really fat right now...but I'm not quite in shape either. That is the main goal of the summer, I suppose: to become SVELTE. Yes, fashionably, demonstrably, undeniably, SVELTE. What an awesome word that is...it sounds so Nordic. I also discovered a band called "Svelte" over the last year...maybe they've brainwashed me. Wow...it feels weird to be writing all this crap in the sunlight. I need to get back on the regular nighttime schedule starting tomorrow. You heard it here first, Archibald. Fine, fing, Klausem, Ding, shoot, penim, ship, blimp. Here's a good description for me right now: Goth on the inside- Emo on the out. One day you'll thank me. Alright...and after that life-altering experience, it's time for you and me to both call it quits. I'm sure I'll get the hang of this again soon. Right now, I'm off to take a job to make myself fashionably SVELTE. Look out until next time, and remember: stay in drugs, and don't do school.          Have a nice Holiday,          Payton