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Archive for September, 2012

Because of sin’s nature, each time I peer into admiration I ponder about the origin of admiration. Created from man’s rib our origin’s recorded for us to revise and admire. Thou read not the word recorded for not knowing. Though to gratify our soul’s heart thou did partake of our harvest. Feeding our ego from essence of things we admire. From a woman we’re re-born into self. For being admired men shall inherit life from the womb of woman. Thus, from  want a woman seeks, so shall men pursue them. In our thoughts meditating from the path of faith and righteousness, our perception of admiration grows into a thing desired. Because our nature’s spoke to become a living thing we’re only admiration’s reflection of things pursued.  If untainted from un-fleshly things we’re tainted we can’t see  manifestation of spoken adoration.

When spoke those sought things shall overwhelm the soul of mundane things and taste sweeter than that concept of admiration. For admiration we ingest things of adoration with sin. For the multitude we shall be filled of delight. From the sins of women, and the cliché of things woman pursues sin’s contrast of those things shall become un-biased. Through confession those things become magnified for feasting of multitudes. Sin gave unto us woe, but unto woe Sin’s legacy. The mouth of the righteous shall be sweeter than sin itself. Every kiss shall bring forth within us essence of admiration. Everything admired shall fill us, and we shall be filled to feel as admiration appears.

Recite thou from doctrine of sin inherited, before the multitude of our souls court. For sin, word transpires unto taint of  sin un-confessed from our heart. From woman I’m born. From woman we receive nourishment. Legacy passed on to humanity from sins evolution. From the merchants reliquary of bad habits we, shall suffer not. Within us shall be seed of admiration breathed into and unto us by life and life’s giver.

To all the bloggers I love; too many biased cliché limit our imagination.

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Days before yesterday, I walked around my house complaining about Microsoft points and the use of them. Buying game add-ons for Xbox video games is primarily a reason for those points. Items refered to as game packs, picture packs, etc. I’m thinking this feature is addressing copyright infringement for many aspects of needing to copy-rite material. However, reminded of marijuana smokers slang terms for content of smoking utensils I thought somewhere the eavesdropping virus spread. BOWL PAK!! Now consumer products contaminated of utter sarcastic terms for everyday items these dope-heads use are available for everyone. Despite arguing matters, this is plain evidence of conflicting interests. I’m thinking even the birth control products have adopted this extension of slang for their products. Isn’t life going to pleasant since 1999?

Realizing nothing I do individually is a cure for this epidemic, I continued my day. Waking  days afterward intending to travel into another town. The morning of that day I received a telephone call from someone inquiring about maybe taxes? I don’t know really, because I discontinued the conversation. Disregarding that incident, I boarded a bus from the public transportation system. Ironically I sat in a seat, and written on the back of the seat in-front of me is the name of that IRS representative. Police from every town I travelled through appeared near that bus during my traveling experience. After my engagements, I sat on a bench in the bus terminal. while sitting there on that bench two women de-boarded and sat next to me. I overheard part of their conversation about going to court. The third-party tobacco pipe crafted from a deer horn caught my attention. Though any exaggerated connection between the pleasure pack and the chick carrying possible paraphernalia didn’t occur until after I returned home. I  remember thinking carrying these items from a pleasure pack is like carrying gold. I never expected things were going to as they were, but there they sat. Right next to me. Wishful thinking huh?

When did they hear my thoughts? Where did they hear my voice? When is this recurring thing going to become a tool for something better?

To all the bloggers I love, some things get enchanted for magical use when others posses magic, naturally.

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Trying to get away from that prying eye effects sense of direction.  Because  sense of being private behind the closed-door of our home collapses during that second we’re reminded of what we did yesterday on television we become contradiction to our choice bearing. The cliché of community morals also’s effected by feeling less protected by surrounding walls. If I’ve ever secret anything about reason for admiring anything I think that secret place no-longer exists.

Severe colitis and many associated signs of other diagnosis included symptoms requiring corticosteroid treatment. Weeks elapsed after I began treatment before I seen things reminding me of my malfunctioning gut. I’m assuming the ” Tijuana Mammas ” are not for human consumption. However television began advertising a brand of the steroid for asthma sufferers.  This morning, I’d discover Lindsey L., could also use this particular treatment method. though only due to recent malfunction of her body.

Sexuality, faith, nudity, nothing matters. in spite of that all-knowing thing I can’t see, I’d post images of my nudity on every major existing new-site with intention of persuading the entertainment industry toward using something people can relate to. Instead, we find small things fitting for equation of humanities need. I’m saying I haven’t seen things worthy of ingestion. I think the living need desirable things their egos define as enticing.

Hello! this is nocturnal, and I’m heading into obsession of those things. The industry has the lore, but maybe that nocturnal things requires the person.

For all the bloggers I love; keep faith and practice it daily. Lindsay,s a blog topic yesterday.

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During season of change,nought manifests for not, and that transition bringeth forth reaping. Through fields of indecision and of things undecided, we walk. Contrasted in indifferent things, and conflicted our garden lie un-veiled for those having eyes. Stand thou, within the multitude of fruit feast for your soul. See the thorn in-garlanded flesh of our hearts desire. Brandish thee, Sin’s scythe and reap for bounty of laboring  hither. Sin not of past indulgence, or sin of un-desired sin,  this is a thing of new indulgence. Now we’ve everlasting tomorrow without vanity,  but with abundance  of a sinner’s salvation knowing nought of nothing. In sin, we devour contradiction of sinners while being caressed with dew from heaven. For our sin we shew forth with forgiveness, a sinner’s acceptance. forgiving each sin for sins intrusion of infiltrating humanities foundation. Brandish your scythe and reap for our living. Praise thee the house  for the undead aren’t yet converted. Reap thou of the fruit, and repent for time ‘s reborn.

For all the bloggers I love; I hope this is as enticing to read as it was writing.

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Due to the constant changes of Microsoft’s live spaces, I am using the Office web apps, to leave messages for mail contacts. I’m not certain of who reads the shit I post in my Sky-drive, but evidentially a relationship exists between that shit, and everyday shit from the entertainment industry.

More conspicuous however,   occurring while engaged in conversations with myself. I was closing Microsoft’s ” FORZA-MOTORSPORT4,” navigating to the Xbox dashboard and thought about the chef from ” The Muppet Show.” The Swiss chef. The following day, Shakira Ripoll’s pictures among those of Bing’s daily photos. Clicking on that particular group of  photo, I’d discover  another, accompanied with “Waka, Waka, Waka,” in the  heading. I was also thinking about the ” gold member” and the benefits of having a gold member account. The gold member material ‘s in todays photos.

I keep thinking I’ll need a gun for carrying. I also continue thinking I’ll use it eventually, because I don’t have any fucking privacy! My conclusions of not having any goddamned privacy are because I wasn’t using a microphone during this conversation. Against police, military, the rich and the goddamned arrogant sons of bitches dwelling in seclusion from my viewing them!!! After studying alternating current a persons s conclusion for not being able to avoid the eyes and ears of that ever-present entity’s similar if not exact. Under presence of the digital-eye only the person seated at the consoles feel secure. somehow a person’s online identity doesn’t matter. If you can’t use your true identity who’s being blamed?

Why in hell does Microsoft send e-mail offering money to survey participants? This appears rhetoric, but my intentions aren’t rhetoric.

To all the bloggers I love; I think some piece of shit’s determined to see some serious happenings involving me before they die.

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Killing another human appears beyond difficult. During progression of our economic era, the want to shed blood has grown , and weighed as an equal feat of living. Due to the nature of feeling less than obscured, and obscured, I re-discovered that want. The entertainment industry has proven my life will never be as private as I thought before humanity stepped from behind the bush informing me of that unprivate life. The cost of third-party car part manufacturers, and the bullshit digital economy are all but exploited in like manner.

I’ve recently re-built my engine from the automobile I now own. I discovered some parts being sold as OEM, but in fact those parts, and their manufactured appearance, indicated otherwise. Need for replacing those parts required going to a specialty machine shop. I attempted to buy the parts locally, but the prices were too ridiculous. I paid half the price of local parts vendors, and got better parts. I paid nearly three hundred dollars for air-intake parts, and I think I paid twice as much for that part. The vendor I bought the breather from had the same name brand parts for other automobiles were half that price, and those kits contained more parts. I can remember asking myself if I’s buying parts for two people after buying the breather kit. I’d like to know who she is and where I’ll find her.

Despite what we know about electronics: logic gates, bit rate, duty cycles per second, Ohm’s law etc. the digital economy is another fuck up beyond belief. finding components is one thing, but entering a perfectly un-perfect world is another reason to become a killer. Let’s start with bus speed and internet access.

My first point is, internet access is always consistent with system bus speed. System bus speed is also consistent with output cache. Output cache determine audio and video capabilities. A 32 bit video display is equal to a one meg output cache. needless to say, 1024 by 1024 screen resolution is a no brainer resolution for all 32 bit video displays. Performance video cards allow that resolution stretched into bigger monitors, filling in emptiness when needed. Input speed’s determined from bus speed. Despite all a persons goddamned efforts, an internet browser is not designed for functioning perfectly. Digital cameras only capture images in resolutions unsuitable for the 32 bit operating systems available during the time period manufactured. Regardless 1.3 megs is almost blue ray quality. most web cams  manufactured only for blue ray quality, and that requires fucked up apps to run in most computer environments. If this educating post doesn’t compel people to kill others , I’ll write another fucked up post for another attempt of doing something fucked-up. Oh…. Internet browsers function within computer output cache. All content downloaded for viewing in a browser gets assembled in software of that browser. If the right mouse button’s pressed on certain web pages, options for viewing page properties becomes available. My desktop’s 6 years old, and according to electronics theory can’t get outdated during near future advancements of technology. The economist will fucking try persuading that theory into another direction. Apple holds the current title for output resolution devices.

To all the bloggers I love; let’s hope you don’t “get” informed of my being gunned down from police gun fire too soon.

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The stripes on my back; I wear them for the affliction thou cast upon me. Browsing storehouses of someone elses dreams contributed from humanity, and paid for in full, with currency made from our sin. Contributions from humanity, and humanity’s tendency of dramatizing everything it touches. Cached for someone else, somewhere else under standards falsely guaranteed. Do I play a prisoner for your amusement, or am I enticement of your fetish like accord? For your self-inflicted pleasure, be sanctioned for you. If I accept discipline from yon, otherwise delicate hand, and for you I’m bound in a place of sin and confined in your reign. Because of these sins confessed shall people assume your sins are equally great compared to mine own? Certainly I am a vain sinner believing you and I share the same dream. I only have glimpsed into your soul finding only your dream and your idea of wealth. Idea nurtured from the whip, I’m whipped. Vain glory is yours!Our sins are not the in the same heart, and the fantasy wither like gardens in end.  If we’re pleased by disposition of woe, each lash I receive define me as sacrifice for greater sin and for your glory. For nought, our delusion replenish not. From the hand of woe, let riches from digital age in-garlanded us. Let our multitudes search the cache of someone else and their interpretation of what we are.  A gem among jewels, despite the agony of affliction given. Perfection and the imperfection. The thorn on the crown of rose wreathed for glory of sinners.

My search lead me into a journey of someone elses creating. Foul defines the act of being lured by the image of fair maidens in roles paralleling things known as real. Finding false dreams on scores of pages in someone elses storehouse is another inspiration from the hand of euphoria. To all the bloggers I love; Perhaps availability of material for reading more is for justifying need of something from someone else, or, ones self.

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