July 22, 2006
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A taste of fame.

It's no secret, my life is fairly simple at moment—not driving, free of class, writing, exercising—it does make me uncomplicated. Thus I have enough free time at this typing machine.

"The worst part of writing fiction is the fear of wasting your life behind a keyboard. The idea that, dying, you'll realize you only ever lived on paper. Your only adventures were make-believe, and while the whole world fought and kissed, you sat in some dark room, masturbating and making money."

-Chuck Palahniuk
"My Life As A Dog"
Stranger Than Fiction

So that's a convenience of the writing lifestyle—arguably why I'm so fuckin' drawn to authorship—yet I drone on and on and just yap and yap about naughty giblets that may bring me to a tough spot between the desire to write about myself, that I am comfortable sharing, and bringing to light the privately personal artifacts of life with a sparkle in your eyes when you gaze upon these pixels.

I've received a stern talking-to in lieu of associating my fictitious chemical perfection with a health club I attend, and I fully understand the ramifications of what may be considered libel, now, but I BEG that you please dismiss any judgement or slander (not the compliments) with a realization I simply do this because I enjoy listening to crisp XM while getting lost in the deep dark jungle of English language. That was one sentence , cool huh?

I still don't think you're able to see why I do this , I'm not driving a sweet whipski right now , my sexual conquest for gettin' sum ass is falling a little short , and I'm pecking at sticky keys throughout the day with dreams of one day making cash through this habit of textual entertainment.

My parents (eGovernment) have frowned upon my gripping yet grimy articles in past weeks and now with an honest look at my material I vow this will be the last of the rubbish—you'll open up justchillen.com and probably see something pertaining to flirty happenings or reports of glorious smooches from li'l ladies. Guhhh.

Back to fame, don't you see that I've ponied up for some real expression while I've got you listenin'? Wouldn't it be a shame if I were still working with computers? English and Fitness, baby!

I've recieved a li'l heat from a couple bodies at Gold's Gym, after posting an un-public image on my own site and authoring content based on a Creative Nonfiction principle of fake and illegal events placed in the context of its actual setting. I've cleansed the ol' doggy that is my website of any 3rd party bullshit.

Thank you for enjoying reading what I have to say.

July 12, 2006
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Car Accident Kills Peterson and Family

Worcester, MA—Sheriff Peterson was rear-ended and sent into a tree killing him and three family members last night at 7 p.m in Worcester. A Scion tC driven by Jeffrey Marquis, 24, collided with the rear end of Peterson's Chevrolet Caprice veering the family into a large tree on Route 20. Marquis who suffered minor injuries has admitted to speeding and passed a breathalyzer test upon involvement with authorities at the scene. "What we have here is a solid reason for tighter restrictions with drivers who've had a head-injury," said Lt. Gustafson.

Marquis was involved in a crash with no other vehicles in November 2004, resulting in head trauma that effects his coordination. Marquis' license was revoked for one year due to reckless driving and a high level of intoxication. He'd returned to the road with authorization from Fairlawn Rehabilitation Hospital and Dr. Schriener of Fallon Community Healthplan.

"Things just went so fast," Marquis said, "it's like I just didn't have time to think about hitting the brakes." Decreased reaction time is a major effect of brain injury. "I was going the speed limit and stuff, but after passing a trailer truck his car just came out of nowhere." A therapist at Fairlawn had this to say, "[Marquis] just seemed like the kind of kid who becomes distracted too easily. I didn't feel good about him returning to the road. He marginally passed our road tests."

July 8, 2006
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Continuing with where I'm going.

I wrote about the beginning of this yesterday, on my bulletin board, not much further than having chosen a particular English major with mention of fitness. . . I've premeditated some of my life lately, after it all being stripped away and leaving me with nothing , my scheme is almost set. Once I begin working again (it feels like so long) I'll dedicate my time and effort to the needs of a fitness club, where I will have no excuse other than to keep my sexy and sexier physique at the sexiest levels.

That's work. And sort of play.

College I'm fond of Worcester State which has a Writing Center with many knowledgeable people there to hang with. English naturally requires a lot of reading I enjoy—it seems like you're really getting inside of someone else's head when you read the creative language stuff—I'm fond of it. And I'm able to do three classes simultaneously, not four, while being considered fulltime, so this'll give me enough time (being a little slower *shakes fist*). I'm thinking about 2/3 online classes—as per the memory—which will grant me the time to hang out in The Writing Center with a new Macintosh laptop and to get jiggy with the social aspects while reading and doing what I'm doing right now. All of this would be prior to my workout at a health club.

I've been doing a lot of planning.

Remember my thought of lending a hand somewhere for a couple months, yes it's true. I'll do that upon graduating. . . I feel that it's the right thing to achieve! It's semi-fruity but it's certainly something to have experienced for a broad life. I fucked up my family's future and fortune with my escapades of disastrous driving . You won't see me squeezing my way out of this aspiration. So that's upon acceptance of a degree. . .

College won't be easy though. . .I had trouble with one class I withdrew from. Woops. Thus I'm looking for an online classroom where I'll have notes and text right in front of me, makes sense right? I'm able to use my credits from Lowly Quinsig for any recognition in this new major of English. Yarrr. Senior life, I won't plan or predict that. Who knows where I'll be. . . Nonetheless I feel fuckin' fine, flippin' fantastic about where I'm going. Few have that.

And we have Writing in July. Or
a lot goes on at The Playa's Club. Or

. . .continue with June.