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Date:2012-01-10 05:11
Subject:I Wonder

Who would notice this post if I posted it?  
It's crazy how time flies.  My little sisters are of age.  Christine has a child and a husband.  It's been years.  I'm through my BA and well into my MA.  I've had a few meaningless relationships with a few wonderful individuals.  I've had a few apartments.  I've regained my license--and I own a Honda, which almost daily now accumulates parking tickets.  I've written several novels, none of which have been published.  In fact, I'm still unpublished as an author.  But all things a process, from what I understand, save those which don't.  Oh!  I have a multitude of tattoos, hopefully adding up to a sleeve here in the coming months.  Next appointment is in two days.  My hairline hasn't really done much since my last post, which is a relief.  I've lost some weight.  Then gained it back. Then lost it again.  I've realized the secret to good health: pain.  That is, enjoying the adrenaline rush that comes from inflicting pain on one's self.  Adrenaline rush, and challenge--and curiosity, and not a small amount of self-investment.  I have a gym membership.  It's cheap.  The car gets me there.  I also drink an enormous amount of coffee.  My friend/ex-professor Joseph Pappa told me he acquired a urinary tract infection from all the coffee he drank/sleep he didn't get.  I wonder if I'll ever be man enough.  "You have health insurance right?  You can get antibiotics you know."  

"Pfft," he said.  "I'm going to piss this out.  I don't have health insurance."
"Oh," I said.  "Man, I can't wait to be a professor some day too."

Which makes me wonder--will I?  You know, be a professor?  Will I profess to profession?  I don't know.  Questions are like eternity--a possible story on which meaning can be exercised.  If that makes any sense.  Walt Disney would say it doesn't.  I have a thing against him.  Even though he's dead.  


Date:2009-05-06 15:37

I tried. 


Date:2009-03-28 22:54

I have no energy to post anything.  Except to say that Christine didn't block or sign off the other day.  Not that anyone reading this cares so much as I do.  I'm mostly saying this so she doesn't think I'm slandering her.  I just did my workshops for the week for my creative writing class.  I'm going to post one here that I thought rather just, in lue of writing anything terribly meaningful.  Enjoy.

Dear Mr. Brian Baumes,

Okay. I have very little to say, except, did you write the novel How Not to Write a Novel? Because everything in this thing I just read, read like that book. It's a novel about novel writing, that is, how not to do it.

I have to say I didn't want to workshop this thing, or even finish reading it once I discovered what it is you were doing. Your prologue/warning thing wasn't exactly enticing either.

It occurs to me that instead of actually taking a risk and dealing with your insecurites about writing a story, you've illustrated your insecurities about writing a story here with some faux characters.

If you think the end of you story is trite and meaningless, I might point out that the theme of trite and meaningless is repeated throughout your story, and it holds to that to bitter end. Also, having taken no risks in writing this, by making no promise to the reader that you will tell any sort of story, divulge any part of yourself, reveal any truth about the universe, or in anyway tell a coherent tale, you have taken from yourself the opportunity to make your ending meaningful. It's impossible.

The best thing you have going for you in this is your humor. There's some funny stuff in here, but clearly you're too concerned with screwing up to have written something meaningful. My suggestion to you is, is to take a risk and try. Even if it ends up being cliché, or drab, or trite and meaningless, at least you will have tried, and perhaps come one step closer to actually producing.


Date:2009-03-27 00:22
Subject:The Mice Problem

The desert at night is a cold thing. Here the stars move into the moon's circle, overlapping and cuddling the crescent.
 I speak of the sky like a poet. Forget it, it means nothing. I am a girl. My face is young. What is my name? Surely it matters. This place is paradise.
It's my face that bothers them—it's so young. I have a very good memory.
 I recently found a man dying in the desert. He was beautiful. I saved him from vultures hopping toward him. They're so big these days. When I looked at his face I was shaken. When you've lived in paradise as I have you no longer see faces as people or snowflakes. It doesn't snow in paradise. Faces are dynasties of eyes, lineages of jaws. His was love's true face.
 I expect to be in Hell any day. But here I am in paradise.  Ah yes! I forgot, I wrote a poem for my lover:
 The bucket was filled and taken away. The red washed into the grates.
 The sea was restless. I watched him watching them.
 I waited to see those two silver coins.
 It doesn't make much sense I know, but I thought he would remember that his eyes were grey and I called them silver. I write poems about the sky, but they mean nothing. You should know that with eyes like that you can always pay the Ferryman.  
 What was his name?
 I told my dying lover in the desert a story in exchange for solving the mice problem: Powerful men hail the ocean.
 He smiled. A sad smile like a constellation.
He was suffocating. I said “Here, cough, breathe.” I would not let his lungs collapse or drown, no, I am not cruel. I have a knife. And when he left me in paradise his eyes were open. He could make me out through the milk in his human eyes. He said he was dying, and he wanted to close his eyes, but I asked him to look at my very young face.
 I write meaningless poems about the sky.
 I'm not making any sense. Let me clarify.
 I'm afraid I've lost my point.
 But the mice problem is solved.
 I learned to speak and write English when I was very young. The missionaries came and we learned about the enemy far away, that they too have farms. We learned about Hell. I learned everything, and the missionary told me I have a very good memory. I was very young then, and I had never loved anyone before I loved him. When we were alone, I let him see my face, and he told me it was very young. He told me this is paradise. He told me that where he lives there is a farm. Where he lives it snows. Where he lives there is a mice problem.
 He told me a story about his farm: A full silo caught fire once. Not a blazing fire, but a slow billowing smoke haunted the road by the farm everyday, for three months. There was only nine moons on the farm that year.
 My lover forgot my name, but my face is very young. He did not die slowly. I am merciful. I have a knife. When he left I took many things from him to remember him by, things for my family, things to trade. Even the enemy needs to eat.
 Where there is one farm there are another dozen farms layered beneath it.  
 I went to find my lover on the sand that night. I would save him from the vultures. To show him my young face. My family hates my memory and my young face. I wrote a poem for my lover:
 The bucket was filled and taken away.
 The red washed into the grates.  
 I follow where the blood leads.
 My lover gave his life to the desert. This place is a paradise. Either way, the mice problem is solved. My family believes that what I did was wrong, that I will go to Hell. So I expect to any day. I wonder if that is under the farm? Hell? If that's where my lover went. I won't suffer. I have a knife. There are cats on the farm, some are friendly, though you shouldn't pet them.
 The missionary rewarded us with silver coins. He would tell us stories from Greece, about the gods and the ferryman. One day he showed me his knife, and told us a story about how he used to carve wood at his farm. The best wood is soft. He carved faces. I let him see my face one day, and he carved it into wood. He told me he loved me, and I know he did.
One day, when my father found my face carved in wood, he demanded to know where I got it. It was the first time I had ever seen my face, and I still have it. It hasn't aged a day. It hasn't forgotten.
 He told us stories about France, how they used a machine to remove people's heads. He showed us pictures of so many people that they were like an ocean. I've never seen the ocean. Hundreds and hundreds of people. When he taught us English, he taught us poetry. I wrote many poems about the sky. They removed heads for a cause, and the heads would fall into a bucket and they'd wash the blood away into the grates. He told us about the sea.
 I snuck out to find my lover that night. The moon that night was bright and the vultures were out. I followed the blood. When I did he told me he loved me. I took his knife, and put two coins on his eyes for the ferryman—when I did this he laughed and said I have a very good memory. He said, “What is your name?” but I didn't answer, and he said it didn't matter.
 My dead lover told me a story: There is a farm thousands of miles away. The townspeople give their cats to the farm. There are hundreds of cats there, for the ones that survive grow up, and the ones that aren't crushed or frozen have sex. Most die by the cold. Some get crushed. The winters are harsh. The farmers feed them sometimes. Even the enemy needs to eat. Either way, the mice problem is solved.



Date:2009-03-27 00:13
Subject:I would feel terrible...

If this mother fucker died.  I used to have a pretty regular fan base here.  Well, I'm bringing it back.  If you couldn't tell, my life five years ago wound down into a spiral of shit and fire and no one made it out alive.  In fact, just to give you an example:

John Pfannkuchen11:45
I just wanted to say hi.
Well, honestly, I felt the need to say something to you. I was reading back through my old livejournal, and I saw a comment you made in there. I...can't believe you wrote it.  
John Pfannkuchen11:56
I enjoy reading your journal because I have time to think about you and realize who you are. Its easier to see and appreciate a person from a distance as opposed to being caught up in the middle. People like to look at you in black and white and think you're just being mean but if anyone realized the time and effort you put into your friends, they'd realize that you really do care and you aren't just being mean. I read Shaggs this journal entry and parts of the other because I appreciated what you had to say and I feel bad that things aren't going so well for you. His response was, "Dammit John, why did you write all that about me?" lol. I figure you'd appreciate that.
"There just comes a time when I can no longer tread on thin ice. I have to say what I mean and mean what I say and pray to God that there's still someone left to hold my hand when I'm done talking."

:: holds hand ::
12:04Friday, March 27, 2009
12:04Christine Fotorny disconnected


That quote is from many many years ago, and certainly doesn't reflect how anyone feels about me today, much less Chrstine.  This point is illustrated by the manor in which she either a) blocked me, or b) signed off with out comment.  Which is understandable, and I feel a little bad for putting her in the position of validating/qualifying or otherwise trying to think about the circumstances back then.  But it made my heart swell with regret that I think for once someone understood.  And I didn't do anything about it.  I said some stupid shit.  Well, that's life.

I'll get you caught up with things as they are now in a future post.  For now, I'm only going to say it's good to be back, and I'm going to post something here that I've written recently.  Why?  Because I said so.  


Date:2005-05-18 19:23

"I'm sorry but all questions must be submitted in writing."

~Willy Wonka

The kid's father on this movie just made a comparison to how a gun shoots a bullet, to explain how Augustus Glump will be removed from the Chocolate River tube. He's actually wrong though; there is no build-up of pressure in a gun. A hammer explodes a gun powder capsule inside of the bullet's shell-casing, thus ejecting it from the barrel. The barrels, I think, always have a sort of helix track on the inside, that actually results in the spinning of said bullet, to keep it as straight-flying as possible. No no, Augustus blocking the tube could be better compared to some sort of bodily function that involves a sphinctor of sorts. Possibly shitting, cumming or even pissing. Cumming most definately though, in the male that is. There is a build-up of pressure, that results in a sort of "bulb" between two sphinctors, an interior and exterior. The inside one is by design the one that should release and allow ejaculation. However, it is possible for the interior one to malfunction which would cause the semen to fire backwards into the urinary bladder. Retrograde ejaculation may be caused by prior prostate or urethral surgery, diabetes, some medications, including some drugs used to treat hypertension and some mood altering drugs (Gilbert). I just had a thought. Dale suffers from high blood pressure (hyper tension) and takes drugs for it. I could almost gaurantee that has had some issues with that...just because I'm a mean vindictive bastard. Anyway, the pressure builds up to the point where Augustus' fat disgusting body can no longer sate the pressure of the Chocolate River, and thus fires him like a filthy white wad of man sauce onto the gaping asshole of the Willy Wonka Factory.

Gilber, M. Scott. VeriMed Healthcare Network. Department of Urology. http://health.allrefer.com/health/retrograde-ejaculation-info.html.

(2flames burn)

Date:2005-01-15 22:14

This journal has moved to: http://livejournal.com/users/johnpfannkuchen do it up!


Date:2005-01-05 19:49
Subject:the burning red

I see the sun begin to rise
and I'm blinded too
I've seen the world through painted eyes
that I'm crying through
I watched the darkness hypnotize
and confided

hold on, I'm falling
can't breathe anymore as
an ocean has opened
these Scars need to
heal over

caress the needle prick in my skin
the tears fell like rain
I've rode the Phoenix as she glides
and I've gone insane
I've seen the light of suicide
and I'm dying

hold on, I'm falling
can't breathe anymore as
an ocean has opened
these Scars need to
heal over

hold on I'm falling
can't breathe...breathe...

colder and colder...
just hold on to me

(4flames burn)

Date:2005-01-02 22:58

Everything comes to an end. I really really love some people...and it hurts...but I do...

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
other times there was one only.
This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from anguish,
sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints,
so I said to the Lord,
“You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you,
you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life
there has only been one set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”
The Lord replied,
“The years when you have seen only one set of footprints,
my child, is when I carried you.”


Date:2005-01-02 10:05

I was caught in the rain, wasting my time on the ground


Date:2004-12-24 19:32

Merry Christmas everyone.


Date:2004-12-23 18:32

Necromancy, fortitude, auspex, serpentis, presence, obeah. Is six disciplines too many for one deck? I think I will wind up removing the presence, in favor of more fortitude. I will also be replacing Nefertiti in my crypt with egothha. We have four, so there is one left for ethan if he so needs him for his Harbinger of Skulls deck. Egothha has Basic Necromancy, and Advanced Auspex, Fortitude and Necromancy, he is a seven capicity sabbat, and if he is ready during my untap phase, my prey must burn a card off of the top of his library. If that card is a master, Egothha gains one blood. That's hot. Also I will be adding four or five Forces of Will, and some Spirit Marrionettes, Call of the Hungry Deads, King of the Mountains and Nuetral Gaurds. Let's see, with that I can basically bleed someone twice a turn with the same vampire only not (Spirit Marrionette & Force of Will).

Nuetral Gaurd is good for either Obeah or Fortitude, in that it's either (Basic Fortitude) Vampire must pay 1 blood to block this action, or (Basic Obeah) For the remainder of this action, when this vampire is in combat, the range is automatically long, skilp the Determind Range step of each round, or (Advanced Obeah-what I'll be using most of the time) As above, and allies and younger vampires cannot block this action.

Call of the Hungry Dead will be good for Matthias or Egothha or Sarasine. It is (Basic Necromancy) the blocking minion gets -1 intercept or (Advanced Necromancy) This acting vampire burns 1 blood to cause the block to fail. The blocking minion cannot attempt to block this action again.

And I absolutely LOVE King of the Mountain, which is usable by everyone in my crypt except for Sarasine who has no Fortitude. It is (basic fortitude) Preven tall damane from the opposing minion's strike, if the strike was made with a melee weapon, that weapon is destroyed or (Advanced Fortitude) Play after range is determined and before strikes are chosen. If the opposing minion inflicts damage with a hand strike this round (even if the damage is prevented) he or she takes an equal amount of damage during the strike resolution as well- Suck it Dan, suck it long and suck it hard.

Now I need some superior mettles because everyone we play with hordes them like bastards, and I need some Fortitude Discipline cards, and I think that's about it. Woot.


Date:2004-12-22 03:01

I, I came here by day,
but I left here in darkness
and found you, found you on the way.

Now, it is silver and silent.
It is silver and cold.
You in somber resplendence,
I hold...

Your sins into me,
oh, my beautiful one.
Your sins into me.
As a rapturous voice escapes
I will tremble a prayer
and I'll beg for forgiveness.
Your sins into me,
Your sins into me
oh, my beautiful one.

Light, like the flutter of wings,
feel your hollow voice rushing
into me as you're longing to sing.
So I,I will paint you in silver.
I will wrap you in cold.
I will lift up your voice as I sink.


Date:2004-12-21 05:49

"There's something good in her, and I won't destroy that."


Date:2004-12-19 14:24

As an amendment I'd like to also post that I'm not really angry at anyone...and I don't really want to hurt or offend anybody. I'm just trying to publish my thoughts and whatnot...


Date:2004-12-19 13:22

Ok, first-off I don't know if I'll ever be going to another party again. I hate partys. Well, let me just put it this way, I hate partys that make me feel gross. I like partys and get-togethers in the privacy of our own homes...with my very tight-knit crew of friends whome I know and trust. Where we can relax and be comfortable. Going to partys for the sake of getting some is...well is a dirty idea. If you really hate yourself, do it. Trust me you'll just hate yourself more in the morning.

Anyhow, I saw Leminy Snickets a Series of Unfortunate Events (I may have mispelled his name...). It wasn't quite what I thought it would be, but I still enjoyed it. Jeremy opted not to go, instead taking a nap in Barnes & Noble because Sara didn't show and this bothered him. So the list of attendees was wittled-down to just Natasha and I. She paid for everything. Very imbarrassing. Whatever. Saw a guy working there I had not seen since highschool, his name is AJ. He recognized me, I barely recognized him.

V:tes went as according to schedual. My Malk/Baali deck flopped, probably from poor deck construction. It could work in theory, but it would never be as efficient as I need it to be. I may try it again sometime later. However I DID reconstruct my Setite/ Salubri lifegain deck. I also incorperated necromancy into the deck, seeing as how half of my vampires have the basic, and I found some really cool cards that would work well in this deck with basic necromancy (pulled from our new Final Nights booster box we just got Friday night). Ex Nihilo is a great card.


Date:2004-12-17 13:32

Uh yeah ok so...we worked for STC for about four hours last night, Jeremy has his last final today, and after that and after we're done watching Aubrey we are going to work for the rest of the night at STC. I wore the jingle coat and pissed in the womans bathroom just because I could. The womans bathroom smells nice. So needless to say I'm not hanging out with Natasha tonight. I just called and told her. She didn't seem to care too much. Not that I could tell through her muffled maw (just had teeth pulled). Well whatever, I know she doesn't really care that much. I told her we should go tomorrow night. She didn't seem to want to. I told her to get on and talk to me online because I couldn't tell what she was saying. She is not getting on. I don't really care WHY she is not getting on, I'm just saying she isn't. I knew she wouldn't lol.

I'm talking to Christine Fotorny right now. I have no idea what's going on in that girls head really. She's really cool but I have a hard time taking anyone for face value anymore. Specially when I can see right through them. But her, I have no idea what's going on with her. Except she really likes to show me her projects and tell me about her home life over there. Woot. But meh, what else is there?

Kay, more later.

(1flame burn)

Date:2004-12-15 13:36


Are you mad at me?

No answer.

Figure it out yourself.

Your words are sabotage.
Your face is sabotage.
Your intentions are pure

This is a bomb
that I'm diffusing.
This is a wimper
that I'm choking back.

This is the end
and you have no say.

(4flames burn)

Date:2004-12-13 18:38

My Girlfriend Application
I wonder if this will turn out any results.  Apply now!

1.    Name
2.    DOB
3.    Height/General Build
4.    Eye/Hair Color/Style
5.    Religion
6.    Music/Movies
7.    License/Car/Job
8.    Smoke/Drink/Drugs
9.    What town do you live in
10.    Kids
11.    Weekends
12.    Believe in love
13.    Believe in sex
14.    Pet-peeves
15.    Career Goals
16.    Life Goals
17.    Relationship Goals
18.    Favorite Colors
19.    Sports/activities/hobbies
20.    Emotional Baggage

(4flames burn)

Date:2004-12-13 04:25


Oh why cant I be what you need
a new improved version of me
but i'm nothing so good
no i'm nothing
just bones, a lonely ghost burning down songs
of violence of love and of sorrow
i beg for just one more tomorrow
where you hold me down fold me in
deep deep deep in the heart of your sins

I break in two over you
I break in two
And each piece of me dies
And only you can give the breath of life
But you dont see me, you dont...

here i'm in between darkness and light
bleached and blinded by these nights
where im tossing and tortured til dawn
by you, visions of you then youre gone
the shock lifts the red from my face
when i hear someone's taking my place
how could love be so thoughtless, so cruel
when all, all that i did was for you

i break in two over you
i break in two
and each piece of me dies
and only you can give the breath of life
but you dont see me you dont..

i break in two over you
i break in two
and each piece of me dies
and only you can give the breath of life
but you dont see me you don't...

i break in two over you
i break in two over you, over you
i break in two
i would break in two for you
now you see me
now you don't
now you need me
now you don't

the fiction we live

You might be just what I need
No I would not change a thing
Been dreaming of this so long
But we only exist in this song
The thing is, I'm not worth the sorrow
And if you come and meet me tomorrow
I will hold you down, fold you in
Deep, deep, deep in the fiction we live
I break in two over you
I break in two
And if a piece of you dies
Autumn, I will bring you back to life
Of course I see you
I do.


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