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 .   .   .   .  .   .  .   .  .   .                 "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.

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  .           anada 200                by aNAda staff  (c)2000 anada e'zine .
      
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