. . a n a d a 2 0 0 1 0 - 2 6 - 0 0 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "OBSESSED" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . by aNAda staff . . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "Obsession" by Animotion You are an obsession I cannot sleep I am your possession Unopened at your feet There's no balance No equality Be still I will not accept defeat I will have you Yes, I will have you I will find a way and I will have you Like a butterfly A wild butterly I will collect you and capture you CHORUS: You are an obsession You're my obsession Who do you want me to be To make you sleep with me You are an obsession You're my obsession Who do you want me to be To make you sleep with me I feed you I drink you My day and my night I need you I need you By sun or candlelight You protest You want to leave Stay Oh, there's no alternative Your face appears again I see the beauty there But I see danger Stranger beware A circumstance In your naked dreams Your affection is not what it seems CHORUS My fantasy has turned to madness And all my goodness Has turned to badness My need to possess you Has consumed my soul My life is trembling I have no control I will have you Yes, I will have you I will find a way and I will have you Like a butterfly A wild butterly I will collect you and capture you CHORUS . . . AphexTwin23 . . . What can I say... I get into things a bit more into things than others normally would. Does this make me abnormal? I don't know. I can't really think of one particular thing I obsess about. But you must know that I find something different to obsess over each and every day of my life. Some things small and some lasting forever. I'm obsessed with obsessing. I have a fascination for people. What complex beings each and every one is. So unique yet so much the same. I can't get over how much love you can have for one person and how much hatred for another. I'm dependent on others at times. I sometimes need them to comfort me, to lie to me, to mislead me, to deceive me, just so I can still feel whole. "Don't you need somebody to love don't you want somebody to love." How true. We need people. You sure get lonely not having anyone to talk to. We need others to tell us right from wrong because we don't want to be the ones getting hurt. We plead for the right answer but never take it. We only learn from our own mistakes. I'm obsessed with people. I love to observe them, study them, see what makes them tick. But, by doing this, you may find out things you'd rather not know. Sometimes I just wish I hadn't noticed... or maybe I wish I had long before? You can meet someone, allow yourself to believe that they are perfect, only to find out you are dead wrong. But then you can meet another, find no truth in them, only to find out that are really decent. So I tend to do that. I use the idea that you are guilty til proven innocent. Shouldn't it always be that way? I question everything. I love to ask why, and I love to ask why again and again, I'm never satisfied with a final solution. I guess I'm pretty negative too then. I could care less what people think of me but yet I ask them anyways. I think too much. I had driven myself crazy once for thinking too much. I didn't have too many things going on in my life either. But I had thought about one thing day in and day out until I had become emtionally, mentally, and almost physically sick. I had too much time to do nothing other than think. I used to love it. Until I became obsessed with it. So I've begun to keep myself busy. I got a second job. So pretty soon I can start complaining about how I have not enough time. We're never happy with the amount of time we have. We'll complain about not having any free time although we may have plenty. Whatever. I'm sick. Addictions are very obsessive like Obsessions are very addictive. I became addicted to drugs. I fried my brain. I lost my intelligence. I threw away half of my personality that I may have. I made the wrong choices. Chose some of the wrong "friends" at the time. Let people use me. Let people abuse me. And let people manipulate me without my knowledge. Or maybe I knew all along but just didn't care. Drugs bring people together and drugs tear us apart. I must admit. I had a lot of fun. Many great experiences of periods of non reality. But fuck. You never realize how addictive something is until you decide you have to quit. And how are you supposed to quit something that you love doing? I'm still working on it. I quit for about 2 months. And started up again. Quit for another month. Did it again. Now it's been only 1/2 a month. I'm an obsessive addict. I search for reality. What is real...and what is not? Is this whole evolution called life anything close to the reality I'm searching for? Am I the only real being here? Or am I the only one that is not? Maybe I'm the fake. Oh yes. I forgot... I'm such a poser. Off of what. Off of who. Yeah ok. I beg for only the truth. I'm lied to out of kindness way too often. I don't care. It's not like I have much room left for feelings whatever they are. I'm not going to be offended. I only want the truth. What do you think of me? Why? Are you just trying to be nice, is this just another line, what am I to believe? You're such a liar. Music is everything. It had so much meaning in it. So much feeling for that person. And so much that everyone else can relate to. The lyrics that are displayed. The poetic words that slip off of the tongues of these talented artists. Such beauty. I'm addicted to love. Or at least I always have been... until now. I used to be so needy. So depressed and I was always dependent on a guy to make me feel right. But then again..I was always attracted to the wrong ones. The cheaters, the mentally abusive, the liars, the losers, the overly generous, the obsessive ones. And so I grew up. I realized that I deserve better. So I decided to search for someone better. But even I can be wrong. And so I'm finished for now. I'm sick and tired of allowing others to bruise my heart and wreck my skull. What's the point of beginning a relationship when you know it's only going to end, and you're only going to have another chunk of life to figure out? I'm not wasting my time anymore. Hatred. I am such anger and negativity towards the rest of the world. I'm the sociable antisocial who wants to be with people but hates them. People are disgusting. About 90% of them are stupid, ignorant, dirty, lying, cheating, horrible assholes. Fuck that. 100% are or have been. We're the horrible people. Not the beautiful people. There's war, disease, prejudice, racism, homophobia, lack of diversity, nazis, murderers, rapists, child molestors, drug addicts, cheaters, liars, etc. It's pretty depressing to see that our president of the united fuckin states is no better than anyone else. We all suck. I'm obsessed with myself. I love myself and I hate myself. I'm the demonic angel. The terrible lie. The walking contradiction. The hypocrite. Oh yes. I'm beautiful. What's not to love about me? I live on sarcasm, I'm as honest as it is possible, I'm intelligent, a bit enlightened, mature, psychotic. Oh I'm so crazy. I'm conceited. I'm so happy. And so negative. I live in Iowa haha... got to love the Iowans. I'm on drugs! I love my mind... it's so... complex. I hate my body. SHUT UPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!! Fuck you! STop it! SHut the fuck up you stupid bitch. SHUT UPPPPP! "David Duchovny" by Bree Sharp It's Sunday night, I am curled up in my room The TV light fills my heart like a balloon I hold it in as best I can I know I'm just another fan But I can't help feeling I could love this secret agent man And I can't... Wait anymore for him to discover me I got it bad for David Duchovny David Duchovny, why won't you love me Why won't you love me? My friends all tell me, 'Girl you know it's just a show' But deep within his eyes I see me wrapped up like a bow Watching the sky for a sign The FBI is on my mind I'm waiting for the day When my lucky stars align In the form of... David Duchovny floating above me In the alien light of the spaceship of love, I need David Duchovney hovering above me American Heathcliff, brooding and comely David Duchovny, why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? So smooth and so smart he's abducted my heard And I'm falling apart Because the coolage just goes From his ten little toes Right up to his yeah yeah to his nose But it's his eyes I can't leave And you can say I'm naive But he told me to believe My bags are packed, I am ready for my flight Want to put an end to my daydream days and sleepless nights Sitting like a mindless clone Wishing he would tap my phone Just to hear the breath of the man, the myth, the monotone And I would say... David Duchovny, why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? David Duchovny, why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? David Duchovny I want you could love me To kiss and to hug me, debrief and debug me David Duchovny I know you could love me I'm sweet and I'm cuddly -- I'm gonna kill Scully! David Duchovny, why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? I'll be waiting... In Nevada... . . . Infernal . . . Look at you--don't you just look special. You do, don't you? Awww... did oo just wake up? I can see the sleep goo in the corner of your eyes. No, no, it's not yucky, it's... it's... endearing! I bet you just wanna get in that nice hot shower and emerge clean and sparkly, wide awake and ready to face the day. You do love your showers, don't ya? In fact, you seem kind of obsessed with the whole naked-in-the-tub thing, like it's this weird little oasis and as long as you don't get out of it, the pressures of the day can't affect you. Hey, whatever works for YOU, my little cherub! What's that? You want some coffee? Now there's an obsession of yours. Perk perk perk. You know, you drink three pots a day of that stuff sometimes! That can't be good for you. Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, please. Please don't pout. You know I only say things like that because I want YOU to be around to brighten the world for EVER and ever. Really! Go get yerself a cup, hey sport? Why the pensive look? Oh... I know that look. You haven't been laid in ages? I know that's one of your obsessions. No? Well, yes, but that's not what's got ya down? Well, spill it, champ! Oh... you haven't liked your writing lately. I know you do obsess about that, don't you? Your own biggest fan and worst critic, isn't that what they say? I know... there there... it'll come around! Try thinking about something else for a while, then you'll come back to it refreshed, okay, my little Vonnegut? Oh--there's that smile! What did you start thinking about? Music! Oh boy! I know you obsess over that! How many CDs do you own now? Gosh! That's a lot! And you--you HAVE listened to them all?! That's just amazing, you connoisseur, you. And I know you know all sorts of trivia about who played on what, what songs mean... you're what? Making a mix tape? Why, that's just wonderful! Hey, how about a kiss, huh? Don't worry, there's no one to see. All this talk bout your obsessions has got me thinking about my biggest one-- awwww, you're blushing! You know it's YOU! You you you! You're all I think about, and I love you on so many levels! In fact, you might just be the handsomest face in my mirror. Who loves ya? "My Obsession" by the Rolling Stones My obsession Your possessions Every piece that i can get My obsessions are Your possessions My mouth is soaking wet I think i blew it now, confession Can't dodge it, it's simple logic Youd be better off with me and you'll know it When you lost it, lonely My obsession are Your possesion Are you smiling on my way My obsession are Your possession One that you should give away Give it to me now i've no objection I don't mind if it's unkind And it's not my property But i want it just to be mine, exclusively Oooh baby, ooh baby Oooh baby, oooh baby Oooh baby, oooh baby Oooh baby, oooh baby Aaahhhh You need teaching you're a girl There are things in this world That need teaching with discretion, my profession My obsessions are Your possessions Are you used to the idea My obsessions are Your possessions Do you feel at home right here You should relax it's my impression Didn't see you were so young I could almost be your son Please turn in my direction, no objection . . . Jason . . . SO what's with this obsession thing? According to the dictionary, an obsession is the domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc. (Incidentally, an occiput is the back part of the head or skull. Leafing through the dictionary can be so educational.) As a rule, such things are usually unhealthy. They can drive people to do some pretty darn stupid things. After all, John Hinkley Jr. was obsessed with Jodi Foster and so naturally he decided to kill Reagan (say, I wonder if he voted for Bush in 1988, since he almost made him president in '82?). Mark David Chapman was obsessed with Lennon and killed him with out spending the one extra bullet that would have freed from the world from Yoko Ono. At least we'd have ended up about even! Hitler, I think, could be characterized as a bit obsessive as well. Mignonne means small and delicately pretty. I bet you didn't know that. Granted, those are extreme examples, but look at the everyday crap people allow to run their little lives. Fanatical religious beliefs are one, even when they don't compel the person to blow themselves up. Obsession with a particular celebrity is always good for a few laughs, especially when they pay ludicrous amounts of money to get any kind of memorabilia regarding that given celebrity and would get naked for them at the drop of the hat. You have crazy old ladies who own 40 cats, psycho yuppies who kill each other for Beanie Babies, and college kids inexplicably united with elementary school students in their utter devotion to things like Pokemon. It's a nutty world. Do you know what a rill is? No? A rill is a small rivulet or brook. On the other hand, an obsession makes Christmas shopping ludicrously easy. Take my old cowhead mother, PLEASE! (I crack myself up.) Although it may be a touch hyperbolic to say that she's obsessed with cats, but I can be sure that if I get her anything even vaguely feline-related, she's happier than a pig in shit. (And why ARE chicks usually the ones obsessed anyway? Isn't it guys who are supposed to be in continual pursuit of a little pussy? HA HA!) My brother used to be preoccupied with things of a porcine nature, but he grew out of that to revel in an unnatural fascination with some sort of underground comic strip called Zippy the Pinhead. It's not really an obsession per se, but it really makes shopping easier. Hypercatalectic is an adjective describing a line of a verse containing an additional syllable after the last dipody or foot. I know what you're thinking. What are MY obsessions? Simple. I don't have any. Testudinal means pertaining to or resembling a tortoise or tortoise shell. That's right, I don't have any obsessions. Sure, there are things I'm interested in, but I don't devote my life to them. I like Alice Cooper a lot, but I don't sit at night listening to his music while kneeling in front of a candle-lit shrine to him (candles are a fire hazard). I'm a fan of Babylon 5, but I've never gone to a convention (because they never come with in an hour drive). Sure, I've got a couple tarantulas (ok, 14), but that's mostly because they're so low maintenance. I'm not obsessed about chicks, either, because if I was, I'd be hurtin' pretty bad considering I am approaching my 4th year with sharing my mighty seed. A farrago is a confused mixture, hodgepodge, or medley. I wish I could be obsessive about something. Obsessive people are the ones who get things done in the world. Genghis Kahn was obsessed with conquering everything he could find. Bill Gates and Steve Jobs are obsessed with building a software empire. That Julia Butterfly chick was obsessed with that stupid tree. As it is, there's just no room in the history books for someone who'd rather feed his tarantulas or watch football all Sunday while there are those willing to sacrifice their entire lives for their cause of choice. If you're wheyfaced, it means that your face is pallid, as from fear. Of course, that will all change when I take over at the head of my arachnid army. Apotheosis --(n.) the elevation or exaltation of a person to the rank of a god (SEE Jason) That would be cool. "#1 Crush" by Garbage I would die for you I would die for you I've been dying just to feel you by my side To know that you're mine I will cry for you I will cry for you I will wash away your pain with all my tears And drown your fear I will pray for you I will pray for you I will sell my soul for something pure and true Someone like you See your face every place that I walk in Hear your voice every time that I'm talking You will believe in me And I will never be ignored I will burn for you Feel pain for you I will twist a knife and bleed my aching heart And tear it apart I will lie for you Beg and steal for you I will crawl on hands and knees until you see You're just like me Violate all the love that I'm missing Throw away all the pain that I'm living You will believe in me And I can never be ignored I would die for you I would kill for you I will steal for you I'd do time for you I will wait for you I'd make room for you I'd sail ships for you To be close to you To be part of you Cause I believe in you I believe in you I would die for you . . . Conversation . . . Lachrymite (1:30:03 AM): its seriously true, you ARE like the mp3 goddess. Lachrymite (1:33:17 AM): do you know of anyone who has more than you do? DEMONIC pikachu (1:33:24 AM): no DEMONIC pikachu (1:33:41 AM): if there is, i would of course have to download MORE and BEAT THEM Lachrymite (1:33:47 AM): hahaha DEMONIC pikachu (1:33:57 AM): since i can't be a master of POKEMON Lachrymite (1:34:26 AM): why cant you be a master of pokemon? DEMONIC pikachu (1:34:46 AM): because they are PRETEND DEMONIC pikachu (1:34:49 AM): but mp3s are REAL Lachrymite (1:35:03 AM): pikachu arent real? :( DEMONIC pikachu (1:35:48 AM): sadly. Lachrymite (1:35:52 AM): NO NO NO Lachrymite (1:35:54 AM): PIKACHU REAL Lachrymite (1:35:57 AM): YOU PIKACHU SUMMER Lachrymite (1:36:05 AM): I CATCH YOU AND WE GO AROUND AND HAVE ADVENTURES TOGETHER Lachrymite (1:36:09 AM): YES YES YES. Lachrymite (1:36:43 AM): *twitch* "Obsession of the Heart" by The Raisins I am falling in love for the third or fourth time in my life so goodbye earth cuz I'm losing touch I still got rhythm and rhyme buy my reason is out to lunch and my face is breaking out it looks like modern art there ain't no reason for what I feel powered by an obsession of the heart I used to watch the stars but now I believe in some kind of god as I recall all the lonely people afraid to love cuz lovers just make fools of themselves well I'd rather go insane than lonely it's a fact she's turned me into a sap put your head on my lap I'm about to take this lying down . . . Effy . . . Obsession? What do I REALLY like THAT much? In fact, what do I REALLY like at ALL? It seems I've been permanently living under the philosophy, or rather disease, of everything sucking. I only refer to it as a philosophy because in a way, a negative attitude posessed by people like me, has seemed to spawn entire genres of people... not to refer to any in particular. If you call me goth, I'll stab you with my magical banana. On the other hand, I suppose you don't necessarily need to have an excessive fetish for something to be obsessed with it. I could fiendishly despise radishes, and thus construct an entire movement to provoke the mass genocide of the world radish gardeners. Or I could just eat them all. But radishes make me burp, and I would rather be eating raspberries anyway. The problem with the two ends of obsession is that in order for me to truly be obsessed with something, I have to feel passionately about it. My concept of everything sucking doesn't include the word HATE. Yes, people suck, all politicians, retards, christians, road construction workers, children under 18, senior citizens, Swedes, and Kid Rock should be run over by the Great Gregarious Grape, but I don't possess any burning, hateful desire that will ever invoke the demise of anything beyond the occasional pestering mosquito or the occasional urge to hit living things while driving full speed in my car. The REAL problem behind this all is my apathy. I'm passionate about music like Depeche Mode, Dream Theater (If I had James LaBrie's voice, I wouldn't be able to sing; I'd just sit and drool on myself all day), Stabbing Westward, Portishead, NIN, Poe, God Lives Underwater, Chroma Key, Duran Duran, etc etc... I'm passionate about fruit (GOD I FUCKING LOVE FRUIT! LONG LIVE THE FRUIT KINGDOM!)...I'm passionate about my writing (I'm a fucking terrible writer; I just want to slit my own throat and tie my rotting carcass to some railroad tracks). So, yeah. I have lots of passions, but OBSESSIONS? Gimme a break. You guys are all god damned freaks. Go have a mango. "Bad Obsession" by Guns N' Roses I can't stop thinkin' Thinking 'bout sinkin' Sinkin' down into my bed I call my mother She's just a cunt now She said I'm sick in the head She said you ain't special So who you foolin' Don't try ta give me a line But I can't stop thinkin' 'bout seein' ya one more time (Oh no) But I already left you And you're better off left behind It's a bad obsession It's always messin' It's always messin' my mind It's a bad obsession It's always messin' It's always messin' my mind Too bad you're fucked up I used to be wasted Always tried to take it Take it down into my vein I call the doctor He's just another He said I'm sick in the brain He said you ain't special So who you foolin' Don't try ta give me a line But I can't stop thinkin' 'bout doin' it one more time (Oh no) But I already left you And you're better off left behind (Oh yeah) Aw it's a bad obsession It's always messin' It's always messin' my mind It's a bad obsession It's always messin' It's always messin' my mind So bad... Boy It's a It's a Heads up It's a bad obsession It's always messin' It's always messin' my mind Now it's a bad obsession It's always messin' It's always messin' my mind But I can't stop thinkin' 'bout doin' it one more time (Oh no) See I already left you And you're better off left behind (Oh no, oh no) It's a bad obsession And you're always messin' my mind See I already left you And you're better off left behind Uh huh...no Maybe you'll do better next time PUNK!! . . . Phairgirl . . . Have you ever had one of those moments where you find out that all your favorite Beatles songs were written by George? Well, maybe not George, I mean, I think Ringo even had more of a following than George. Poor George. Sorry, George. Take two. Has you ever discovered something that was blatantly licking you in the face for months and months to years and years but you never noticed it before then? Like, when you open the cupboard and you take out a can of Spaghetti-Os, and you think to yourself, wow, I really REALLY like Spaghetti-Os, how come I don't buy more of them? How come I don't ONLY EAT SPAGHETTI-OS? WHY EAT ANYTHING ELSE? I think it's obvious that I'm never going to get this comparison right, but hopefully you see through my psychotic delusions and understand what I'm trying to say. Anyway, I have spent the last seven years of my existence completely and utterly in love with the band Dream Theater. Well, I didn't stalk them or anything, but I listened to the CDs a lot. That's about it. But it wasn't until late last year when I decided to check out what Dream Theater was up to, and surprise surprise, a new disc was on the way. But, lo and behold, I was also a budding eBay freak, and I had just won an Anthrax CD single. AND IT WAS THAT MAN, OH SWEET AND WONDERFUL MAN, that noted my favorite song of all time was "Space-Dye Vest" and sent me packing towards chromakey.com and in the face of Kevin Moore. And that is when I awakened, when I realized, goddamn it, all my favorite Dream Theater songs were penned (at least lyrically) by Kevin Moore himself. And suddenly, my disliking of their later projects began to click, the style change clicked, everything clicked. MY WORLD BLOSSOMED AND BECAME A COHESIVE ONE. Well, something like that. I bought Dead Air for Radios, the first Chroma Key disc (Kevin Moore's post-DT project). I instantly became completely and utterly obsessed with it. I forced my obsession on others. (I still do.) And I developed what I now affectionately call my Kevin Moore problem. See, Moore's lyrics have this habit of obtusely explaining all these berzerk thoughts in my mind without making them seem so damn insane. It's kind of like I have a friend out there who can sympathize with me. It's nice to know I'm not the only one who thinks the way I do, and that's a comforting thing. But, you see, that's the nice way of putting it. The REAL way of putting it is this: If I win the lottery, I am doing to find Kevin Moore and duct tape him to me, back-to-back. I will carry him with me wherever I go. I will make him be my friend. Since we think alike, we can lie and say we're siamese twins and get into movies for just the cost of one person. I'm not saying I want to tie him up and have mad sex with him daily, but I am saying I want him to play doubles on my team in badminton or share my picnic lunch with him. And since I will be rich, he will have absolutely no reason not to make more albums, because I will gladly fund them. Now, don't write me off as a psycho just yet. Because, you see, Moore would benefit highly from this arrangement, provided he doesn't have an ongoing relationship with anyone but me. He will get to create all the music he wants for free. He will never have to worry about money (or that pesky freedom thing) again. He will never have to make another difficult decision, because I will make them all. And he will never have to get another blister on his feet because I will be doing all the walking. HhehehhEHEHHhehHEHHEhehehHEhEheh. "Every Breath You Take" by The Police Every breath you take Every move you make Every bond you break Every step you take I'll be watching you Every single day Every word you say Every game you play Every night you say I'll be watching you O can't you see You belong to me How my poor heart aches With every step you take Every move you make Every vow you break Every smile you fake Every claim you stake I'll be watching you Since you've gone I been lost without a trace I dream at night I can only see your face I look around but it's you I can't replace I feel so cold and I long for your embrace I keep crying baby, baby, please O can't you see You belong to me How my poor heart aches With every breath you take Every move you make Every vow you break Every smile you fake Every claim you stake Every move you make Every step you take I'll be watching you . . . Schoolboy . . . Hair does a lot to me. Blondes repel me, dark colours fascinate me, ginger makes my heart race, short makes me want to run away and curly makes me drool. Curls are sex/libido/horniness incarnate. Simple as. I've never met a curly chick who hasn't reeked of pheromones. My girlfriend has curly hair. We're not just talking two-hours-in-the-salon curls, we're talking the Hong Kong of curls. Her head is so densely populated with tight ringlets--and was born with them--that she can barely rest her head on anything without bouncing back up. She calls them "Helter Skelters of lurrve" which is very true. She is cool, doesn't take shit, loves sweet lovin'/cock/pussy/porn like no other, is funny, formidably intelligent (never met a stupid curly girl), has a fantastic sense of fashion and is basically the definition of a Curly Chick. Now doesn't that sound like something worth having? It's not just that I like the aesthetics of curls I like, it's the overarching traits that I find curly chicks possess. Curly hair is cool, sure, but it has to be real. No, it HAS to be real. If it's manufactured then she gets no respect from me. I hate blonde but if it's curly then it's a step up. If she's dark, nice, if she's dark and curly, REALLY nice. If she's ginger, really nice, if she's ginger and curly, there's nothing else in the room! Don't get me wrong, the rest of a chick's got to be passable but the point is if a chick's passable with curly hair she's immeasurably improved. I think the fact that so many chicks feel the need to shove hot metal into their hair to create rather transparent facsimiles suggests that females know the attraction. What the fuck is it with men who like blondes? Where the hell does that come from? What's sexy about blondes? I mean they are almost NEVER real! The minority of chicks really are blonde but because so many weird guys start chatting them up with blonde hair a distressing number of women choose to throw chemicals on themselves. It's surprising to me how immature I am about curls. I'm protectionist and, quite without justification, I'm childishly derogatory about other individuals follicular properties! "Look at that stupid bitch with a boy's haircut!" "Look at that yacky blonde!" shit like that. OK, maybe a lot of people are bitchy like that but I don't like being like that. But what choice have I got when the only decent hair in the world is curly? Genuinely curly girls are so few and far between that it's virtually a triumph to see one anywhere. Yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn, CURLS, yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn, CURLS, yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn, yawn.... That's life, but with fewer curls. If you're curly, and a girl, well done and if you're a girl and not curly, please don't fuck me off by curling it. Thank you. "Obsession" by Siouxsie and the Banshees do you hear this breath it's an obsessive breath can you feel this beat it's an obsessive heart beat waiting to be joined with its obsession i close my eyes but i can't sleep the thin membrane can't veil the branded picture of you the signs and signals show - the traffic lights say go again you baffle me pretending not to see ...me i broke into your room - i broke down in my room touched your belongings there - and left a lock of my hair another sign for you you screamed into my face get the hell out of my place another sign for me? can you forgive me? for not understanding your ways you know sometimes you take it all too far then i remember it's a game between you and me a divine test for us two it's all in my imagination yes they even say that our mission ...is only my obsession do you hear this breath it's an oppressive breath suffocating in the poison of your obsession can you feel this beat it's a possessive beat your pulse stops in the claws of your obsession . . . Lachrymite . . . Back when I was a sophomore in high school, I wasn't all that hard to make happy. I had three little requirements that needed to be met in order to have a particular day qualify as a good day. My three obsessions were rather simple, too. 1) I had to talk to Jen, the girl I had a major crush on. 2) I had to eat Chicken McNuggets. 3) I had to roleplay with my friends. Yeah, I was a pretty big nerd. But things have changed! I'm no longer the geek I once was. I still have three things that make a day qualify as good. They are still simple. Six years later, here's the list. 1) I have to talk to Phairgirl. 2) I have to eat tater tots. 3) I have to play Baldur's Gate II. Awwwww yeah, I've come a long way. . . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . anada 200 by aNAda staff (c)2000 anada e'zine . . . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .