Executrix

Yeah! Well lets go back to the middle of the day that starts it all...

In General

I came to INO 9/11/05. Googling develops a vast experience among the Internet portals. I ventured into the site believing it to be a pass and go type. Awhile back I came to the conclusion that all has faded from this place. It will for you too. It's not a dramatic experience nor a saddening event--rather matter of fact. You acknowledge your time to move on.

Either it's the with drawl effects from the medication resulting from my inability to keep anything down or me being in the hospital--yet I thought this would be the moment to situate what is. I'm 97 pounds. I have a severe infection, my white blood cells are trying to increase to fight the infection but failing. My liver is in danger of failing and the bladder infection is increasing. I'm tired and being without my mental health medication doesn't make everything more comprehensible.

I've realised, while the staff tries to supply me with some form of fluid in my body of how having a deep sense or some idea of someone but yourself applies to actually fucking facing reality. Queen_Of_Khanate (Sara) who became a member not too long ago, has been this stunning woman I've looked up to for awhile. An independent freelance journalist who gives a shit about music and those who give back to what it's worth. What it's actual fucking worth. Sara is like a sister--no, is my sister. A best friend. Among the living and I'll have it no other way.

She has leukemia and is declining rapidly now. The baby is, again, at risk as well as Sara. What happens, happens. The few years her and I have left to share will not be taking for granted. Count on that.

To those who wish to keep in further contact with me outside of INO, you know where the PM box is. In the course of 1-2 days, I will no longer be venturing to see.

I wonder at times what it would have been like, if the 05 crew would have stayed longer. If The Black Parade wasn't made. If there were actually the old school Bullets fan still around here. There's only a few. The rest faded. Burnt out or descended in music taste.

Don't ever become so involved with a band that you believe they are better than you. That you are them. That they are you. What is that? Be yourself. Be distinct. Be a bitch. Praise your independence. Listen to fucking Bullets and Revenge. Let the music vibrate your skull and encircle your presence. That's what music is all about. Not giving a fuck. Not giving a shit. Don't be in your 30s, 40s, hell 20s--wishing you did something that gave meaning. Do it now. Don't just talk. Do it fucking now.

After all, we are, among the living? Right?



I found my place in Monroeville and I never left.