Wednesday, December 25, 2002
God is hot. He’s a “hotty”. He’s so beautiful. Just one look and you’ll be hooked.
- kimmel 12:38 PM

Tuesday, December 24, 2002
I'm the only one who can help me. For my fear is mine and my judgment is mine and my sentence is mine and I am the cure. I am the CURE. I AM THE CURE.
- kimmel 10:09 AM

Wednesday, December 18, 2002
?
- kimmel 7:40 PM

Thursday, December 12, 2002
Rather than words, tonight I offer this:

- kimmel 8:22 PM

Wednesday, December 11, 2002
I'm right. You're right. We're allright.
- kimmel 11:12 AM

Tuesday, December 10, 2002
My body is nauseous with fear. Physically my body feels unhappy. My body is in a state of illness—sort of like a hangover feels. Yes that’s it. Except without the drowsiness. Sometimes my hands and feet are cold and take on a purple hue. Perhaps my thoughts steal the blood. Over-analysis. Here’s an example: “Can one over-analyze? Isn’t the judgment whose verdict claims I suffer from over-analysis, or, rather, 'too much analysis', just more analysis? Can the analyzer deduce that he over-analyzes?”

Fear has hijacked (such a strong word) my love. Love is the greatest drug of all. And it’s free—everlasting. Love, to me, is all the chemicals that make the brain feel good—the ones that allow for a sense of peace. If love came in a pill it would be the only medicine I’d use. If love came in a capsule, I’d take one a day.

I am starved of love. All I want is for this body to feel comfortable, physically. I rarely drink, but, I’m, as if, always drunk—drunk with dissatisfaction. I’m so, as the poets say, “drunk with fear.” It’s sickening to my body.

Perhaps my brain takes all the food with its many, many thoughts.
- kimmel 11:55 PM

Monday, December 09, 2002
If the book I read speaks to only one generation, it speaks to no generation.

The message, my friends, is eternal. Trendy writing is under the influence, very imperfect, deluded, and not from the source. He who worships popular writing is no more than an idolater.

An idol is any object worshipped.

So listen critics. When I write. I write for no one but God. So, if that's the case, then take your criticism up with The Creator. I'm not interested in the audience. I am selfish. I'm interested in scratching this itch and emptying my bowels.

I'm not sad. Why are you?

Who cares to hear the truth?
- kimmel 9:00 AM

Friday, December 06, 2002
Lookout. triple x. Here comes my honey roasted peanut deity from heaven above with a wrath so angelic even the birds mistake Him for beauty.

My Lord, you've wrapped your wrath with a bow of salvation. I feel the future fire. Guide me oh Father with a gentle torch. Let me brush your flowing locks. As if.

Father oh Father sweet Father oh Father. Hear my cry! Never, never could I love the way you do. Never could I.

I need not my friends since you are here. I lean on you. Maybe some day they will too. But. But. How your throne shines. Forget about teaching them. I'd rather whistle love tunes to my Creator, my only love.
- kimmel 7:31 PM

Thursday, December 05, 2002
Found home at 10:30. Made love. My balls were hurting and I screamed. This wasn't how it should be. I knew this. My balls. My balls. My balls.

For obsessions sake. And lord knows how the Furious Neurosis never ends.

I will make this like a blog of a blog of a blog.

It will count.

Facts may be hard since clarity is key ...................

I fear the code in which I'm communicating might not be understood by the language of my future.

I'm alone again.

I'm alone again.


WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
- kimmel 12:36 AM

Be gone dear Vanity. You're no longer needed.
- kimmel 12:30 AM