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Curt Wild

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[Saturday
July 24th, 2010 at 11:14pm]
Glitter may be dead, but I'm not.
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Agrypnia and the need for speed. [Thursday
May 14th, 2009 at 12:40am]
Sometimes you just need to shoot a gun.

Because drugs are mostly boring. Because sex is mostly cheap. Because death is not the end. Because sometimes, when you look in other people's eyes, you can't see the light for the smog.

That's what this town is here for, I think. Zen, and the art of smashing ugly things with a rock, right, kids?

Burn for the perfect instant, so that your shadow will outlive you by a million years. My God, it's been so long. Never dreamed you'd return. I changed by not changin' at all. The only gadfly, I guess, fucking with my gall is that nothing I say or do is gonna make me any less superfluous. I know, I'm not trying to be fuckin' special, or anything at all. Here we all are, in this boondock hell, walking anachronisms. We become in tune with it. It comes to us and we nod, knowingly.

Aah, Silent Hill. You begged me to take you back. I am giving you every opportunity now to let me down. You think you are so much more badass than I ever could be, that you can break me. But me? I'm from New York, and I am uglier than you can ever imagine. So why did I come back? I knew there was danger here, but I also had opened this Pandora's box before. And you can't let it spook you, you have to roll with it, from the slightest misconduct to the most flagitious crime.

If you don't, that's when the fuckers have every right to skin you alive and wear your dermis for longjohns, right?

Well, it doesn't happen to me. The buck stops here. I got cleaned up and I'm straight and I'm walking into this with my eyes wide open.


OOC(Sorry I've been really in and out and with weird schedules and all. Things will be normal in a few days I hope. I need to sleep now, sorry.)
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[Wednesday
October 1st, 2008 at 1:22am]
Private to Vincent and UlfCollapse )
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[Monday
August 4th, 2008 at 12:33am]
[ mood | numb ]

After spending the past few days hooked up to a dialysis and having god only knows what pumped into and flushed out of me, I was finally allowed to leave my room. It can't be any worse than what I got injected with, though, as I'm alive and more or less well, even if I am looking like shit at the moment. I should probably be in a world of pain right about now (and I've got the knot on my forehead and some drained abscesses to prove it), but I'm not feeling much of anything.

I doubt I could say the same for Walter. Oh yeah, he's in the room next to mine, though he was taken to the morgue first... seems like he has a hard time staying dead.

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[Wednesday
April 16th, 2008 at 10:45pm]
Well I'm travelling down the road
And I'm carrying that heavy load
I walk around in a stupor
Sleazy, I can't do the show
Hanging out backstage
I'm in a homicidal rage
I signed a million dollar contract
I puked on every page
Slaughtered half the crew
Cause they ate my deli tray
Oh Baby hey
I said I'd do the show
And I cancelled anyway

You were roadkill baby
Til I scraped you in my arms
Just another wattle flapping
On the old turkey farm
So baby...

While the wheels keep rolling
And another milepost gone
All alone on the road behind
Oh can't you hear me calling
Just like the sad whale song
I'm on the road behind
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[Sunday
March 30th, 2008 at 2:30am]
I didn't need to see her decaying, lifeless body to know that she was gone.

Thank you so very, very fucking much.

No, seriously. Silent Hill? Fuck you.
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[Monday
February 18th, 2008 at 4:01pm]
[ mood | bitchy ]

Well, hey, it's been another month, if the dates on these things are to be believed.

Another fucking month without any real human interaction of any kind. Oh, sure, I'm staying with someone, and he provides at least some company, but... it's not like I've actually seen him in person. Seriously. When he talks to me, it's always from behind a closed (and locked) door. Honestly, I'm beginning to wonder if this guy Ernest is even real, or if I'm just going fucking crazy and he's just a voice in my head or somesuch.

I know it's safer in here than it is out in the open, but I'm actually considering wandering out there. If only to see another human(oid) face. Also, out of sheer boredom.

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[Friday
January 18th, 2008 at 4:05pm]






What kind of Zombie are you?




You are a Return of the Living Dead Zombie. You were brought back from the grave by exposure to 245-Trioxin. You crave the heavenly taste of spicy brains to stop the pain of being dead. You are virtually indestructible, as even burning you up will create Zombie Rain and raise more zombies.
Take this quiz!








Quizilla |
Join

| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code




I suppose if I had a choice in the matter as to what zombie I'd become, it'd be a hell of a better deal than being a Romero-type zombie. Or one of those virus-infected fuckers wandering the streets now.
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[Friday
January 4th, 2008 at 3:59am]
[ mood | nostalgic ]

Sex on rooftops. Heroin injected under the tongue because most of the veins collapsed. Groupies passed around like joints. Dance to death.

That was my life. Once upon a time. Some thirty-odd years ago, from what I've been told. It was hard for me to believe that lady cop when she told me it was 2007. She had proof, in a sense. There was no way her ID was fake. Then again, neither is mine. Besides, it was 1984 last I checked.

So it was again when I walked through Heather's door. Oh yeah, I was home again. It was all a delusion, I told myself. The monsters were gone; rather, they never existed in the first place. Because it wasn't real. In a way I didn't want it to just be an incredibly lucid dream... I mean, I'd grown quite fond of some of the people I'd met. Then again, I could've done without the critters and assorted spooky shit.

And I did. For a while. I had my life back, even ran into my old friend Jack (who'd finally deigned to come stateside). Must not have been meant to be, though. I mean, seeing as how I'm back and all. Just as inexplicably as the way I left, even.

Guess the old saying's true. Can't go home again.

I suppose this makes this hellhole my home now. God, what a depressing thought. I think I'll go raid the old man's liquor cabinet now. Fuck, man, he owes me. Pure grain's just what I need right about now.

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[Monday
August 20th, 2007 at 6:15pm]
Vincent wasn't at the hospital when I got there, but a dozen or so faceless nurses with cerebral palsy were.

The doctor wasn't there, either. Neither was Nurse Baby. I know there's another hospital in town, but I doubt they would've just changed over on such short notice. Guess I'll check, anyway.
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IV. The Emperor [Friday
August 10th, 2007 at 2:33am]
[A very frantic voice post]


In the church... dead albino girl laid out on the altar and a big blonde guy impaled on a long piece of steel, like he fell onto it from high up.

Something else here, too. Quasimodo motherfucker with two faces and--

Oh fu-


[Cue gunshots and a rapid-fire stream of barely coherent obscenities]
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[Monday
August 6th, 2007 at 3:02am]
Wasted.

For all I'd hoped, it's just been wasted.


...and fuck you, too.
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[Sunday
August 5th, 2007 at 9:15pm]
The things I miss while bed-ridden and away from the network...

...

Alessa's dead.

I really couldn't care less who or what she was to which sect of what cult; she was my friend.

I'm going to pay my respects now.
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[Friday
June 22nd, 2007 at 5:22pm]
[Found in the second floor hallway, east wing]










Yeah, thanks for the warning.

Too little too late, don't you think?
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[Thursday
June 14th, 2007 at 4:45am]
I suppose it's about time I got around to using this thing. It was waiting for me when I woke up.

So I've been here for a while now. Few weeks, at least. Enough to get a feel for the place, anyway. The surroundings shifting, the cold sweat on the back of my neck? I've gotten used to that. I mean, after seeing the same thing over and over you'll eventually become desensitized to it.

Wish I could say the same for Lilly. She doesn't give me that special skeptical look that all cops do when they think you're full of shit. Not anymore. Ever since it happened to her, she's insisted that I stay with her in case "he" comes back. And who is "he"? Fucked if I know. I haven't seen "him." Apparently she went to that other place (or did it come to her?) when we arrived at the hotel and saw "him" there. When I found her, she was all shaken up and talking a lot of shit about what she saw... only, I didn't see any of it, myself.

Guess it must be a personal thing.
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