we're forever unfulfilled, and can't think why, like a search for murder clues, in dead men's eyes.

will the all-knowing glare of the Fiber-Optic Dodecahedron truly be enough? enough to satiate their feral needs? to quiet the mindless chatter of spoilt children, formerly precious macroorganisms gone all rotten in the high noon sun? oh the stench is an unbearable one.

what are you on about you fuck?!

well.

it's just that, a few weeks ago, i went ahead and created a MySpace profile to spread the gospel re: this bullshit website. and quite frankly, it's haunting the hell out of me. because now, i can admit to a handful of subscriptions to various hypertext panopticons. a fact that of course makes me less of a person in God's eyes. forgive me father.

i guess i've forgotten that the internet is for buying shit i don't need, niche porn, stealing copyrighted material, and obtaining misinformation. nothing more, nothing less.

yet in light of this misjudgement, this affliction (which like my colossal substance abuse problem, i'm working on rectifying), a pandemic has come to my attention. one that must be discussed and in turn, reversed and eradicated:

city dwellers from various locales (l.a., the "LES," greenpoint/williamsburg, etc.) thinking that their shit don't stink just by virtue of their geographic location. surely it doesn't take the internet to tell us that the souls that haunt these urbane hotspots (most of which were crime-ridden and polluted to high hell before investors/consumers/developers ran out of ideas and began pouring their dollars into them) feel entitled to a certain share of praise and reverance.

a visit to any bar/gallery/boutique/club will key you in on that. but these physical locations have spatial restrictions that the ever-expanding interzone does not.

the "cool kids."

up their own asses, which is, i believe, the antithesis of the "cool" they so desperately strive for.

progress by proxy. what have YOU done for me lately babydoll?

i do my best to check myself whenever i happen to fall into their headtrap. the importance of being important is such a strong motivator wouldn't you know it. this website would cease to exist were it not for that push to be loved, lauded, and laughed with.

but surely i don't fancy myself a gang member, crack dealer, or murderer just because i hail from Harm City.

The Edict: you are not your fucking zip code!

it would be foolish to assume the identity of a built up area without first questioning what it is that the city can do for you. cut yourself open and bleed on the pavement a bit. because what's a revolution without a little BLOOOOODDDD!!!