July 7th, 2005


(no subject)

Words fail.

Hearing about the bombings in London on the way in to work this morning with a mix of shock and anger and overwhelming sadness.

I'm pretty sure that I don't know anyone out of those that were killed or injured. In a sense it doesn't matter; even if I did, it wouldn't change anything.

An Al-Quaeda group is claiming responsibility. Whether they actually did it or not remains to be seen, but just claiming responsibility for such a heinous act forfeits any right that you have to continued existence in my book.

Anybody can make a bomb and set it off in a highly populated area. It doesn't send a message, it doesn't take any talent, it serves no God, it does nothing but make you a mass murderer.

May you slowly roast in the entrails of a pig so that when you reach the gates of heaven to claim your seventy virgins, you are forever rejected as being unclean.
  • Current Mood
    angry angry

(no subject)

Awake. I should be sleeping.
Finally watched SpiderMan 2.

Nice angst.

Valleyfair contacted me about the possibility of using my mood as their next wild ride.

Perfection is an illusion. But I live for illusion.

Now I must go to bed because there is a huge monster that is lurking in my closet, and the light bothers her eyes.
  • Current Mood
    cynical cynical