...

Eden.org

I hope you're out there, and I hope I never find you.

Seeing these cavepaintings from my past, of things I did, is so frustrating. I know you, but if I talked to you, you wouldn't read my name. I guess I'm just a faggot for not letting time blow past me, but I can't help but wish the things I enjoyed stayed as I had them; I don't want their grimey hands all over it, pushing out my old clique and implanting their own eggshell-padded ward room that is eerily quiet and "improved". I want Zet Radio back on air. One is still around, and I occasionally hear word from one or two of the old ones, but most of them are M.I.A.

I've finished my source map. I'm proud of it, and I hope it serves as a nice archive of how the world was, much like waterworld and the like. I plan on working on a map of my mall soon, but I'm afraid I've got a few things coming up that might get in the way, and I can tell that I'm reaching a creative block here soon on Hammer. Hopefully this will pass.

Do you think that there's a little network out there untouched by us (the larger part)? I hope Eden.org is real and that I never see it or know what goes on there. It's real to me as long as I don't know it is. I envy them and their lifestyles, and DBN is the closest thing I have to it, being a computer in my closet that I can turn on and play solitaire with when he's off work. Hope you're OK, DBN. // Phonetic Anagrams and their Applications;

Closing notes: Had conversation with "Chris Green". Intoxicated off his ass, but let me into a nightclub. Felt nice to blend out of the lights and music, like I was on a mission. God knows those other people weren't. This whole "Internet" thing is giving me a fucking headache I need to kill the people who do this to her but the body count would be off the chart. Breaking records. I'm feeling lucky soon.

1/20/24