Beautiful Monster

Santa likes me so much, I got him to come twice.



( Look ma, no hangover!Collapse )

Santa came while you were sleeping. If you're not sleeping, you must be like me, wearing your stocking as a hat and under the influence.

5 AM
4 bowls smoked
3 tiny mushrooms
2 lines of coke
and a half-a-hydracodone

And maybe some eggnog. And maybe a rum and coke. And maybe..no. I'm not really wearing my stockings as a hat. But I am wearing stockings.
( At any rate, have some photos.Collapse )

Quick public service announcement:

You've reached the LJ of Manzin. You may have seen my pics at http://www.deviltry.co.uk/manzin or one of the few recent posts I've been told of, or from my pictures posted in comment threads, various LJ communities, Manson message boards, etc.

I guess that's it, really. Just wanted to do a quick public hello to the lurkers who've come to poke around the outside of the onion. I wish I could say things like "I'm really quite sane" or "I'm actually incredibly harmless" or "I'm not all that bad. Really." but I'm afraid I'd be doing you a disservice, lulling you into a false sense of security. It's true that I'm not all that bad all the time. But I'm not always so nice. I'm opinionated, egotistical, self-centered, self-serving, angry at just about everything almost all the time, and I like to use foul language. On the other hand, I'm an excellent listener, good with advice, loyal to my friends and myself, and I like to use cut tags when I'm going to run long or post a lot of memes. I don't post all that often, I think. Anyway.

I guess that's all I have to say. You've been briefed, what happens after this is your decision to make. Enjoy the pictures and thanks for stopping by.

SADJAKSHDJASKLD
ASGDHJSGDAHJDGASKDGKGSAFKASD
ASGHJGASDJHSGADJSAGDAHKGDASJHD
full report tomorrow
GSDHJSAGJHDGS
ASGDHJSG

I don't know what's going on yet. When I do, I'll call you.

6pm and the doors opened in an hour and I was dressed and ready, just in case I got the call. We have a ticket and a pass if you can get up here or even better We're leaving in ten minutes, if you're ready you can ride with us. 7pm came and went. 8. 9. 10. By 11 I was rubbing my eyes, smearing my makeup, complaining about how sore my left eye was, as my contact was due to be changed months ago but I didn't have a new one to change to. At 12:15 the call came. We're up here already. There wasn't time to get you, really. Brian's not out here, there's nothing going on, it would have been a wasted trip for you anyway. Sorry. But maybe for Columbus.. Alright. I was fine with that. I was still in boots and my pinstripe trousers with a plain longsleeved black shirt, no lipstick, lowkey eye makeup and my hair down. Still looked okay, I should hop on the webcam since I'm presentable. I had just turned it on and sat down when at 12:31, the phone rang again.

He's doing a meet and greet after all. I can get you in but you have to leave right now and drive very fast, an hour tops. Will you come? I actually thought about this for a few moments before saying, fuck it. If I don't, I'll regret it, I'll be there. I changed my boots and debated peacoat versus black fur before grabbing the peacoat and I was out the door, got some gas and was on the highway by 12:42am. The directions I was given said to make a right on Prospect and a left on 4th, but I came to 14th and went "Huh?" So I had to U-turn on Prospect and there it was, the House of Blues. The sign said "Private Party Only" and the clock read 1:42 as I ran across the street. My friend met me on the sidewalk, pressed a black Nothing records armband into my hand. I was worried you wouldn't make it.. My heart was in my throat. He followed this up with You missed him by maybe four minutes. My heart returned to its proper place.

The HOB receiving room was a fucking beautiful thing, all done out in dark wood and Shiva/Kali statue art, paintings and tapestry and heavy silk curtains with long gold cords to hold them back, a ceiling of big tin stars, full bar, low tables and armchairs everywhere. It was a dream. He was sitting right over there. A beautiful large armchair pulled next to the fireplace with a low table in front of it, the curtains just being pulled back. They'd had him in a little tent for privacy with his mom on one side and his dad on the other. He'd been in a fantastic mood, still fighting off the flu but making a good recovery, and sat and chatted with each person who came into the tent for a few minutes, shared his absinthe (Serpis again) and signed autographs. It was perfect. It was exactly what my head showed when I pictured meeting him, in this imperial opium den of a room. And I'd missed it.

I talked to Hugh for a minute or two. I got a Coke from the bar and felt a tug on my elbow and Barb said hi and asked where Steven was, we talked for a few minutes and she complimented me on my pictures, said that my friend had sent some of them to Hugh and Hugh had shown them to her and sent them to Manson and they all enjoyed them very much, and I said thank you and then they left, leaving me to putter around the room looking at the paintings. A beautiful tiny blonde girl came up to me and said that I looked lonely and did I want to sit with her and her friends? I did. The one boy's name was Adam. He'd had a taste of Manson's absinthe and we talked about La Fee for awhile, I gave him the name of the red absinthe so he could pick some up for later. He mentioned that Manson had said there'd be a new album out next fall (Yeah, I'm announcing it here first, I need to update MM later) and that he'd been referring to Skold as "my wife" because Manson and Tim have been in the studio 14 hours a day working on the album. Mmhm. (Is he as good as I think he is? You don't have to say anything, Mr Manson, that grin says it all. I'm so happy for you.) I also spotted Mark Chaussee moseying around the room much like myself and he shook my hand with a big smile. He was very warm and friendly and content to chat for a few minutes, said he'd known Manson for about 14 years and that they'd been good friends for awhile, and that there'd been no hazing when he joined up. Yes, I asked. I told him I'd see him today and he was pleased, and after that the barpeople closed it down and kicked us out. I was back home by 3:15, had a small lunch/dinner of cranberry dressing, and went to bed.

( Dream SequenceCollapse )

I'm playing phone tag right now, trying to arrange transportation. I have an eighth a tank of gas and, strangely enough, $3 in my checking account that's supposed to have at least $20 in it. Fucking bank's charging me for something again, I just know it. I will overdraft it if I have to. Supposedly my other friend will be going down and I can ride with him but I've had no confirmation yet. I have a car, a debit card, and my armband. My girl left already and was overjoyed to hear that I'd be going to the show too as it was her first show she's seen by herself without me. I know what I'm wearing and will take pictures if I have time. Right now I need to iron out my ride situation and get a bath, then start makeup as I think we'll be leaving around 5 or 5:30. This is the problem, this indecision and nobody knows what's going on until 15 minutes before you have to leave, and then you either get the go-ahead or you get a no-go until you've decided you're staying home, and then they call and say to come up. I'm the kind of person that likes plans. I want to know what's going on when and I don't like surprises, especially when it comes to a possible first impression.

I didn't want to wear my white lens but I'm going to have to. I can't risk ulcerating my eye again. I can't not wear a contact, my eyes are too bad. I'm breaking every rule I've ever made about meeting Manson but it's tonight. It has to be. All signs point to Yes. He's done a meet and greet at every show this tour. He's been circling closer. That dream last night. This feeling I have now, this shaking electric ohmygod concrete feeling. Before it felt like speculation and now it feels like certainty. If I can get there. If I can only get there, I'll meet him. Shit, I have a ride home if I need one, I just need to get there. The time has fucking come, it is quite clear.

Wish me luck. I'm going in.

*EDIT*
My friend has supplied me with $20 for gas so I can at least get to the venue. I have full clearance. Bracelet. Ticket. Pass. Waiting for me at the box office. I have to drive myself but an escort will be there at the window and has been given instructions to bring me back. Manson has been notified that I will be in attendance and is... expecting me. (*dies*) I need to get the check, cash it, fill my tank, and take a bath or two because I just shat myself. Mo-ther fuck.

40 days and 40 nights and then they built an Archive. I was drowning but you threw me a Lifesaver. You are the Dandyman but the only mirror tricks are the ones I make myself. There is no you in 'mine', but in 'ours' lives an oh. And IOU more than would fit on the side of a cow. Stumbling through roadblockheads with a hand in each fist. Chastened and chastised, bowed but not broken. You can't trip the light fantastic without stumbling first. Expanded, not contracted. I've expelled explanation. I've used my delusions, confused my contusions. My illusion's alluded, my lemon's sublime. I once was a master baiter but my hands are empty. Trapdoor spied her, the webwork's never done. Maybe I am your shadow, Peter Pain unsown. Maybe I'm not clapping hard enough.

Can you measure the arc of descent? Can you measure the arch of decent?

My patience is suing for malpractice. If there's no way to win this game, my balls and I will stay home. I cam to be the obscene. Your salivation will be my salvation. This whore will babble on. I will diddle while your Bush burns. Four more years on my back instead of on my knees. My settings were spit or swallow but I'm toggled for 'devour'. Kneeling is not so much submission as it is a targeting technique. You've backed me into a corner, now I'm going to work it. Mine is an endangerous species. You were right to fear what you do not understand.

I'm with the banned. And it is time to demonstrate why.

Below are some ideas for how we -- the losers, the sinners -- can throw off our comforters and scramble back to the land of the living, reclaiming whatever remains of our country, our day, our way of life -- before we're all rounded up and shot.

( 1. Have extremely deviant sexCollapse )

( 2. Get a divorce.Collapse )

( 3. Read a book. And when you're done with it, donate it to your local public school.Collapse )

( 4. Go to the movies. Collapse )

( 5. Give in to the zeitgeist and dumb down.Collapse )

( 6. Start writing your novel, or song, or splattering your canvases with paint. Collapse )

( 7. Take a walkCollapse )

( 8. Forget your big plans to boycott red statesCollapse )

( 9. Get loaded.Collapse )

( 10. We don't know how to say this, but...Collapse )

Stolen from the all too correct people at Salon.com and originally spotted by thenineteen. Thank you, baby.

While I'm posting things that amuse me, I had to add this to my userinfo:

"A transvestite is a man that dresses like a woman, but I think that I'm a composite of both male and female. I'm not trying to look like a woman. I'm trying to look like something that is both."

I knew I picked the right role model.

Also, that little kid in the trailer for The Grudge freaks me right the fuck out. Goosebumps, hair on end, the whole thing. And I don't know why.

Just because the chapter is over, it doesn't mean you can't celebrate its first page.

Happy birthday, Niko baby. Gone but not forgotten, and never really gone. I love you.

( Yet another dumbass meme.Collapse )

( Word AssociationCollapse )

Wander a little further east. Tease.

I have, for some fucking reason, decided that I should have an account on MySpace. Current Space Cadets can find-slash-add me here.

Dibs on the dead boy. Hands off, motherfuckers. Stump rule applies. Bitey bite bite.

( All HallowedCollapse )

My suit was handmade just for me by the very talented, very quick, very fabulous samara_ash. Anyone who needs some custom clothes done would be well advised to look her up.

Got my paid account back. I couldn't take it anymore, three icons just doesn't cut it when I post as often as I do. I'm so spoiled.

The party was quite nice last night, even though I spent three hours doing makeup and hair and still was far from happy with it. Some days it works and some days it doesn't, and I don't think it did. Some days I look great but I can't get a decent picture to save my life. I think yesterday was one of those days when nothing was working. We made it up to the club with no problems. I wish I'd photographed Steven, he looked fucking incredible. He'd borrowed a little black velvet Twiggy-style dress and had his dreds all neatened and pulled up with lipstick and eyebrows and prettiness, torn fishnet stockings, boots, garter belt, the whole gorgeous mess. I decided against entering the costume contet because one of my friends was dressed as Cruella DeVille and she'd done a damned good job of it and I wanted her to win, which she did. The music downstairs sucked, the music upstairs was much better and the laser show was pretty great as well. They spun a lot of really great songs and I did plenty of dancing and a bit of drinking as well. But I'd been tired all night as I only had a few hours of sleep and had been up since 9am so we left long before the timechange and got no benefit from it. Almost fell asleep several times on the way home. Stopped at White Castle, got home. I was fed just one nice-sized mushroom and ate it against my better judgement, as I was sick and was sure this would be a bad idea. But like a dumbass I ate it anyway. Before too long it hit my mostly empty stomach (I hadn't eaten my burger yet) and I was twice as sleepy and three times as cold as I was before. Peeled out of my clothes and got into bed in the hopes that I could sleep. No such luck. Lay drifting between various consciousnesses, watching the familiar loved photos in my head slowly have their eyes and teeth replaced from what I knew to greengold monstrous orbs and teeth like angler fish. The light in the room was red but all I could see was this sickly absinthe/snot yellowgreen color that made me feel only sicker than I was. The eye/teeth thing wouldn't stop either no matter how many channels I changed. I was shaking with cold, short of breath, couldn't steer anything anywhere but bad places. I tried to focus on something pleasant and got a five or six second flash of Tim Skold in a black suit with a red shirt and black tie with a cigarette in his hand and his dreds back/up, pulling someone (Manson?) into a little alcove in a wall at a club somewhere and exchanging animated, angry words with them, punctuated by pokes to the chest. But I was out of it again before I knew who he was talking to or heard any of it. Eventually I fell asleep.

Woke up a few hours later just as tired as when I went to bed, but not cold or altered anymore. But it's Halloween, so I have to get up and be cheerful and go buy candy and pumpkins and movies and food and try to be festive because I'll regret it if I go back to bed and sleep through it entirely. My cold is worse. I'm fucking exhausted. I'm annoyed at how last night went, how the night before that went, how today is going. I'm tired of being tired, tired of being sick, tired of things not working correctly. Sick and tired of everything.

So there's your fucking Halloween picture. Yeah, I have more, but I can't be bothered to post them. I plan on getting a lot of sleep tonight so perhaps tomorrow I'll feel better, though I've been saying that for the past week and a half so, fuck it, your guess is as good as mine as to when things will get back to normal.

( Someone to hear your prayers..Collapse )


I just noticed the entirely unplanned amount of Christian-themed Halloweenery this year. What could you expect for the Feast of All (s)AINTs? I still need to go buy gold fabric for the scarf and I'm out of white thread and I don't know what Steven is wearing tonight and, blah. I need to nap again because I only got five hours of sleep or so and I was tired going to the party last night, which bodes about as well as the ominous rattle in my cough. Heal meh, Jeezus.

"Stooooooop! Daaaaaaad! I'm all wet and gross and...ewwww.."


"I hate you guys. Seriously."

Sir's dialogue sounds best when spoken in the Stewart voice, because that's what we use for him. He actually sounds a bit like Joe Pesci in Real Life.

Photos of Sir taken and published without his consent.

The tickets I thought I had for Cleveland turned out to be a false alarm. The search goes on. I've contacted my buddy in radio to test our friendship, ha. Columbus is a possibility I'm currently clingin' to.

Steven is sick.

Sebastian has fleas.

As for me, I seem to be alright. Prepared for Halloween in plenty of time, though the number of parties we'd anticipated have dropped from four to one. Okay, two, but they're both on the same night and therefore only necessitate one costume, which pisses me off. I thought my friend Jeff would be having a party but there's been no mention of it. I was hoping something would be going on the 29th but of course, no. And Steven has to work the 20th and thanks to our bank account being negative $90something on Friday instead of a nice positive balance, half his check was gone almost before we got it and we're way overbudget this week and can't afford to go to the grand opening kickoff party of the bimonthly Goth night at the Spy bar in Cleveland on Wednesday. Why don't bars stagger their parties? No, I mean, really. Do you really want to have your party the same night as everyone else? Why not have it when there's less competition? But noooooo. Everyone has to have theirs on Saturday. Well that's just great, guys, thanks. But it'll be fun anyway. It better be, or I'll make my own fun and believe you me, it won't be pretty. *smile*

White shows bloodstains. They'll match my stigmata. Reach out and fuck yourself.

I succumb to the most commercial joke of a holiday ever and wish my most beautiful, most intelligent, most excellent favoritest sweetest boy of all the sweetest prettyest smartest favorite boys there were a Happy Sweetest Day.

For those not familiar with this, and there are probably many of you, I will attempt to explain.

"Observed the 3rd Saturday in the month of October, Sweetest Day observance originated in Cleveland in 1922. Herbert Birch Kingston, a philanthropist and candy company employee wanted to bring happiness into the lives of orphans, shut-ins and others who were forgotten. With the help of friends, he began to distribute candy and small gifts to the underprivileged.

On the first Sweetest Day, movie star Ann Pennington presented 2,200 Cleveland newspaper boys with boxes of candy to express gratitude for their service to the public.
Another popular movie star, Theda Bara, distributed 10,000 boxes of candy to people in Cleveland hospitals and also gave candy to all who came to watch her film in a local theater.

Primarily a regional observance celebrated in the Great Lakes region and the Northeast, Sweetest Day is gradually spreading to other areas of the country. People tend to take the Sweetest Day tradition with them when they move. Ohio is the top state for Sweetest Day sales, followed by Michigan and Illinois. Texas, California and Florida are among the top 10 states in sales.

Over the years, Sweetest Day has evolved into a time to express romantic love and also to show appreciation to friends."
- http://www.theromantic.com/sweetestday.htm

That said. Happy Sweetest Day to my best girl arah whom I miss and hope to see very soon, and a Happy Sweetest Day to the very asdhjkashasdajlkfas hyporeal and to everyone else, my friends new and old, who have stuck by me and helped me out and been there for me and cheered me up and all the things that friends do for you. Just a day out of a year to say thanks for everything.

Oh, and....judging by the responses to the Would You.. poll....a lot of you are remarkably willing to let me do a lot of things with/to you. Heh. (And yes, I have a lot of numbers but call very, very, very few of them)

Blame ravisher and lelielknight for this one. Damn you both.

Would you:

( ) go out with me?
( ) give me your number?
( ) let me kiss you?
( ) have sex with me?
( ) play an SM scene with me?
( ) watch a movie with me... even a really sappy one?
( ) let me take you out to dinner?
( ) drive me somewhere/anywhere?
( ) take a shower with me?
( ) be my gf/bf?
( ) have a fling with me?
( ) listen to me if I called you, crying, even if you were out with all of your friends?
( ) buy me a drink if I didn't have money?
( ) take me home for the night?
( ) let me sleep in your bed?
( ) sing car karaoke with me?
( ) sit in the doctors office with me because I didn't want to go alone?
( ) come and pick me up at 3 am because my car ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere?
( ) re-post this for me to answer your questions?

Y = Yes.
N = No.
M = Maybe, depends.
O = Of course.
* = Already have done.

Feel free to make your own list of things you would or would not let me do to you. Anyone listing "You can do whatever you want to me" without providing specific examples will be banned for a week. Because I feel like it, that's why.

There. The original, by request.

Complete and total honesty is never easy, and by the time you peel the skin back far enough to get to the meat inside, your arms are a sticky mess and the table doesn't gleam quite as much as it used to. There's nothing clean in psychological evisceration. It's a dirty job, but sometimes you have to do it. Being able to look up and meet the collective gazes of the ones you've opened to, even with blood in your hair and a smudge on your cheek, is testament enough to your strength. I never doubted who you were on the inside. At the core of even the most rotted of apples lies the seeds of truth and hope, the hidden beauties and fundamental truths inside all of us. Hopefully, now that you've washed your hands and bandaged your wounds, you'll remember what you saw. And that will get you through.

You'd get in a white, windowless van if I asked you to. Suckers.

A month ago I let them sign me up for Connections, which would involve my getting coupons and a $50 Wal-Mart gift card in the mail. And they'd charge my credit card $20 a month if I didn't cancel it first. I intended on buying $50 worth of food and cancelling immediately. The card and coupons never arrived. It's been a month. I called about this once before, and was directed to Keyword: SHOP CHAT. Keyword SHOP CHAT doesn't exist, and instead sends you to a Web Search for "shop" and "chat" which has nothing to do with my problem. Go, AOL. Just you wait until you send me that Customer Service Survey.

I forgot to copypaste my latest discussion with Billing. It went something like "I need to transfer you to Technical Support for help with this Billing Issue". The autotransfer failed, so I transferred myself to Technical support.

Hello, Manzin. Welcome to Live Technical Support. My name is Homer.
RevManzin stated the question or problem as: I got disconnected getting transferred over here from Billing. I need my Connections cancelled. I need the 1-800 number to cancel the Connections subscription I was signed up for but never received..
Are you signed on with the same computer that you need assistance with?
You say, Sure.
TechLiveHARK says, Thanks for clarifying that.
TechLiveHARK says, I apologize for the inconvenience that this issue has caused you. (Just a side note. I HATE FAKE ATTEMPTS TO PLACATE ME. Take your shitty When Customers Go Bad crisis intervention book learnin' somewhere else, dickhead)
You say, I really, really don't know why they sent me to Technical support when this clearly is a Billing issue.
TechLiveHARK says, Manzin, may I know whether you wish to cancel your AOL Account?
You say, No.
You say, I do want the $50 gift card to Wal-Mart and coupons they said they'd send me.
TechLiveHARK says, Thanks for clarifying that.
TechLiveHARK says, I apologize for the inconvenience that this issue has caused you. (DIE)
You say, And then I want the Connections account for $20 a month or whatever it was cancelled.
TechLiveHARK says, Manzin, in connection to this issue please allow me to explain this to you.
TechLiveHARK says, I apologize for the inconvenience, but AOL has a department that specifically handles questions and problems concerning Billing issues.
You say, Right.
TechLiveHARK says, Please hold for a moment while I get you the contact information of AOL Billing Department from my resources for more information and assistance on this issue.
You say, Mhm.
TechLiveHARK says, Thank you for waiting. I appreciate your patience.
TechLiveHARK says, For more information and assistance with this issue, please call AOL Billing Department on :1- 888-265-8003 . (DIEDIEDIEDIE)
You say, *weeps*
You say, Don't make me call Indiaaaaaaaaaa....
TechLiveHARK says, I assure you that the Technicians at the AOL Billing Department would be more then happy to assist you regarding this issue.
You say, I'm sure they will. Thank you oh so much.
TechLiveHARK says, It has been my pleasure assisting you.
You say, Mhm.
TechLiveHARK says, Please try Keyword: Computing Tips. It is a good site within AOL that will help you make the most of your computer.
TechLiveHARK says, Please visit Keyword: COMPUTER TUNE-UP for helpful tips and tools on how to improve your computer's speed and performance.
TechLiveHARK says, Thank you for visiting America Online Live Help. If you need help again, just go to AOL Keyword:
Live Help, and we'll be here to assist you.
TechLiveHARK says, Have a good day!
You say, You too, thanks.
TechLiveHARK says, You're welcome.

AOL has no pity. They laugh at my pain. Soon I will get offline and spend 90 minutes on hold to India where I will talk to Prince or Rakeem who will be more than happy to tell me, in their Apu-Quickie-Mart voice, how my problem is easily solved by going somewhere else, talking to someone else, or doing something else. That won't work. Eventually I will hang up in a rage and they will bill me, and I will spend another 4 hours of my life screaming at them until they remove the charge and cancel the subscription, which was all I wanted in the first place.

Calgon, take me away....far, far away...

You can take the boy out of the club, but you can't take the club out of the boy. Danced until they kicked me out and stumbled home aching and with my lipstick a gone. The 24 hour supermarket wasn't entirely happy to see us staggering around in their meat section, but that's what they get for being open at 4am.

My cousin told me nothing I didn't already report. Yes, he knows of me. I'm not surprised. Quit knowing of me and call me or write me or something so I can start losing my mind for good reason.

And this wig thing? Bigger pain in the ass than I'd previously thought. Damn you, Manson. Damn you straight to Hell where I'm quite sure you'll suit the decor and look even better than you do now, and cause me greater pain. Though by the time I'm there to witness it, my resources will be much improved and we'll match perfectly.

What is everyone doing for Halloween?

And the time came, and the book was opened, and he looked down with his bicolor eyes and said "Man, I really fucked Ohio over the last tour. I owe them."

And then the tour dates were announced. And Manson said, "I hope you two get jobs so you can afford tickets, because I'm setting you up HERE. HERE. HERE and HERE. And with that he pushed bright shining stickpins into four cities within an easy seven hours' driving distance. And he said, "Come on up and see me. You know you want to. See if Mike will drive to some of them. I bet you could hitch a ride with him to Detroit. It'll be fun. You should ask him. And get a job for fucksake. Suck more cock if you have to, aren't I worth it?"

And I looked, and I saw:

11/8 Cincinnati, OH Taft Theatre
11/14 Detroit, MI State Theatre (The day after our 2nd anniversary)
11/29 Cleveland, OH House of Blues
11/30 Columbus, OH or Norfolk, VA Promowest Pavilion

And my eyes were opened. And my heart did leap. And from my mouth came a joyous noise that sounded suspiciously, embarrassingly like "OMIGOD! EEEEEEEEEE!! EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" And there may also have been bouncing. And...yes...a little bit of flapping. BUT ONLY A LITTLE. AND IT CEASED VERY QUICKLY. We will speak no more of the flapping or the bouncing or the rejoicing.

You heard my begging. I love you. I'll see you soon.

I wrote this for MBP but I was too impressed with it to keep it to "just" that journal. And as I haven't written anything too smutty in awhile, here you go.

( photo graphicCollapse )

And because this isn't..entirely..a work of fiction, and since this is my journal, and since I doubt anyone would mind, I also have some illustrations.



( Visual AidsCollapse )

I've got what you need.


www.mansonmax.com

Say "Thank you, Mr Manzin".

When?
Friday, October 8, 2004

This is a call for a nation-wide boycott in the traditions of Gandhi and Dr. Martin Luther King. We are asking all GLBT Americans and their Straight Allies to "drop out" of the United States economy for one day to demonstrate that we are vital and important members of our communities with significant economic presence. There are four elements to the boycott:

1) Withdraw from Work. Call in sick or use a personal/vacation day. You do not have to come out to anyone in doing so unless you choose to do so. This will impact overall economic productivity. If you own a business, consider closing for the day to honor the goal.

2) Withdraw from your ATM. We are asking GLBT citizens to withdraw $80 from their bank accounts on that Friday and hold the cash in their pockets. This is the symbolic average daily contribution of gay people to the economy. There are an estimated 17 million GLBT citizens with a daily spending power of $1.4 billion, equivalent to $500 billion annually!

3) Withdraw from Commerce. Do not purchase or buy ANYTHING. This includes groceries, services, retail goods etc. No movies, restaurants, or entertainment -- nothing! If we make no purchases, we do not generate sales tax for government coffers or revenues for businesses.

4) Withdraw from Cell Phone Communication. Do not use your cell phone for the entire day. We are planning on GLBT citizens to disappear for the day so that our fellow citizens feel the loss of our presence in their lives.

( Press release...Collapse )

A sullen boy making Mobscene memory waste. You can see it on my face.


( Hatey hate.Collapse )

Just so you know that I'm not resting on my laurels. Oh no. Onward and upward. The hair, the fucking hair is giving me seizures of ARGH. I am fucking determined to figure out how to make this work. The first few months after he sheds skin are the hardest, trying to reorient myself, figure out where that new direction is. He spins around like a compass before he finally locks down on the new directional, so I'm not putting much money on anything that's going on now. But it is an amusing diversion and a welcome challenge. I've got about five weeks to iron this out before the 31st, so.. I'd say wish me luck, but at this point, wish he starts wearing hats again. Contrary motherfucker constantly making my life difficult. *smirk* Why must you torment me? The undercut uppercut. Down for the count.

Speaking of countdown (but not the final one, oh no), thenineteen is auctioning off some of his occult collection. The International Guild of Occult Science's Necronomian - Workbook Guide to the Necronomicon , Necronomicon Revelations I and The Hidden Key of the Necronomicon . All three are of a matching set, bound in pretty black leatherstuff that may or may not be actual leather (probably not), but they do have pretty gold stamp embossing. Bidding opened at $19.99 each, so if you're a collector or whathaveyou, feel free to take a peek.

Steven's eBay Auctions

I'm slacking off so much..

P.S
hyaena : Had yet another dream about you last night. Thought you should know.

I'm going for a personal record for public posts in one month by a friends-only journal.

But this is important, see?



It seems Nothing Records doesn't like the video for (s)AINT. They can't handle Anita Pabst Blue Ribbon, or Marilyn masturbating in a tubful of milk while bleeding from his lovely self-inflicted chest wounds. *stops to ponder that, mouth watering* *blinks at length* Sorry. Where was I? Oh, right.

And being the Little Chicken That Could, Manson shook his fist and said "Curse you, Red Baron! I'll do it myself". And so he did. And so if you want to see the (s)AINT video, you're going to have to order it from here. No big loss, though. $24.99 and you get Lest We Forget: The Best Of, plus a bonus DVD with all the music videos including the ever so tasty (s)AINT video, PLUS a free chance to win an autographed MM lithograph or one of ten autographed masks.

How do I know the video is tasty?
( I've seen the stills.Collapse )

Now that I've just repeated My Self, and now that I'm all methed up, and since I've done my share of daily promotion, and also since it's 6:20am and that is ENOUGH INTERNET ALREADY, I am going to bed. To the bedroom. Ha!

One day I'll update with something pertinent. Amon has joined our ranks. (Do you know I once fucked a boy named Amon? He drove to my house from about 500 miles away. I cut my fingernails into points and every time I talk to him even almost ten years later, he tells me that he still shows the scars on his back to people he meets in bars. Scars and bars, scars and stripes forever. Oh say, can you see?)

Note to self: do not update while high, thanks. -MGMT

Spent my 9/11 destroying this lovely creature. He winces when he sits, and that suits me just fine. I should take a belt to him every time he insists he isn't pretty. Maybe I can beat some sense into him.


( Senseless acts of beautyCollapse )

He marks beautifully, even if it takes five hours, two hair brushes, a dowel rod, a leather belt, the flogger, a wooden paddle, numerous varied straps and a squared-off piece of wood to do it. The paddle with the thumbtacks works best at drawing blood, naturally. I broke my favorite hairbrush on him. I thought it'd be sturdier than that but evidently not. Snapped it right off where the handle meets the head. I couldn't resist the noise it pulls out of him and had to get another brush to continue with. The belt pinks him up immediately, he was a lovely shade of bright red down to his knees and you could feel the heat from several inches away. The camera never picks it up as beautifully as it looks in life. I should've taken pictures of his face as well, the crying was so hopeless and lovely. Next time I'll make him wear non-waterpoof mascara. He actually tried to fight me several times, I had to sit on him, pin him down to keep him still. It wasn't really his fault, getting hit like that hurts like a motherfucker, but he did a very good job and didn't kick or punch me. He'd have gotten it worse if he had. As it was he had a nice workout for being such a good boy. You should see the trouble he gets in when he actually does something to deserve it.

I'd had some people request for more Steven pictures, so there you are. Proof that he's alive and well, ha. We always manage to have some sort of Game on 9/11, mostly in retaliation against all the incredible stupid the general public insists on racketing about. Oh, the memorials. Oh, the prayer services. Oh waaa. Flags at half mast and waa waa waa. I woke up at noon on 9/11 whatever year that was and knew almost immediately that they weren't going to shut up about this shit for years, if ever. They still haven't shut up about it. They're not going to ever shut up about it. Every September 11 we're going to have to deal with the little parades and the marchy marchy politically correct "oh how horrible. Oh it was such a tragedy. We should elect Bush again so he can combat terrorism some more." How about we leave other countries alone? If we weren't such interfering fucks, people wouldn't feel the need to smack us around once in awhile.

The third anniversary of the September 11th terrorist attacks is tomorrow and we asked one politically-aware rocker, Marilyn Manson, to comment on it. At a red carpet event earlier this week in New York City, Manson told us that he's tired of politicians who use the September 11th attacks to further their own agendas, and politicians who try to scare people by invoking the threat of even more attacks. It should be noted, though, that Manson claims he doesn't plan to vote this year because he doesn't like either candidate.

THANK you. At this point I wouldn't be surprised if Bush paid those guys to fly planes into the towers. Manson's probably as sick of all this racket and booya and back and forth blah blah as I. I can't wait for this "election" to be over.

It's been so long since I wrote up something filthy for you kids, and I've never made my tales of rampant sex public before tonight. Consider it a gift, and you people who read me who aren't my Friends better comment on it, at least anonymously. That means You. I know, it's been all rant and photos, photos and rant. And what fun is that? Not everyone is visually oriented. And so at Steven's request (kisskiss, baby. Love the boy) I bring you:

( Sex. Drugs. Violence. You know the drill.Collapse )