and we fail to rise to meet the sun, yet again, my friends. Tell you the truth I have seen many strange things in this world of wonders and horrors. Leng... that mysterious plane of dread holds many secrets for which many of you would sacrifice a left arm. Then again, gifts of the old ones are not for the uninitiated and the unwary.

As the chinese put it in their deadly curses:
"May you live in interesting times;
May you get what you want
May you have the attention of those in power"

This is another thrice damnings, eh? More interesting than inquisition's "You are hereby damned by action, association and belief" thingie anyway.

Pictures from my journey are here somewhere. It's up to you to enjoy and, if you want to, comment.

Greetings,

It's been a long time since I updated or did anything relevant with the dA. Got stuck in damned triangle of Thesis, Graduation and Selecting a Master's Programme, applying it and trying to pass their exams.

Thank God, it's all in the past now. Ah, another thing that happened is I broke up. Which is not cute... not at all...

Anyway, this is a I don't know, update message maybe? I really liked new design but didn't dig whole pseudo dark-knight joker wannabes filling up my screen... Guys, he is a fictional character, and no you won't be like him by dressing his facial makeup and no you probably wouldn't like him if he were real. So... get over it, ffs.

Goodbye, for now...

I never trust to writers. They are liars by trade and I don't read them... anyway my name is Jason and I am a truck driver working 24/7 in these interstate highways. You would probably have seen me, I am so long in this business... I don't have a wife or kids... just one night stands with fat waitresses... if I'm lucky.

I'm driving this Mack truck you see. It's old and corroded in many many places but it has a feeling for me... it feels like home, smells like home... and it's scenery is always good. I was hauling this cargo from L.A. to Boston and I stopped in a driveby foodstore. At least it claimed to be one although its beer was tasting like piss and meat had probably mixed with some things I don't even want to think. It was there I met him.

He was eating a hamburger when I entered in. I ordered a t-bone and a beer - same order everywhere. He finished and approached me saying: "hello I'm going to..." I shook my head, "no pal, I don't take hitchhikers. I had cut my teeth on the road and one thing I have learned is... if you want to get mugged take a hitchhiker so... piss off" He didn't look crestfallen. "Ah no no no. I want to pay you for my trip." I raised an eyebrow. "How much?" "A hundred bucks for your trouble" I quaffed my beer - fuck, I was so thristy... "Where are you going?"

Afterwards I learned that his name was Jack and he was a sociology student in Berkeley and was studying us. I mean truck drivers as a new type of worker class who is disposessed and... bla bla bla. Half of his words seemed gibberish to me. But boy he do looked fine. He asked me several questions and noted my answers while shaking his head and after a minute or so he flurried his questions again. Whether we drink on the road or not, what do we eat on roadside establishments... and so on.

Night came slowly as we were heading to east. It came slowly and surely and I had stopped on the road. I let him take the backside bed and watched him go to sleep. Afterwards I went back too and..."

That was where the diary of the truckdriver ended. I don't know what had happened to him really. But this diary came to me in really mysterious ways. A boy who was wearing an old leather jacket with a scowl gave it to me saying "I heard that you were writin' stories; write that. It'll make a good one." So I took it. He took and lit a cigarette from his shirt's front pocket while leaving. I read the diary page by page, his handwriting was quite readable and his style wasn't like a truckdriver. Perhaps this was that guy's imagination running amok and... I can't and don't know. I transcribed the end to you, because apart from being a mildly nausating porn novel it has only this part with a story quality albeit having no closure.

I believe college student stabbed him with a swedish army knife, took his money and hitched another ride to a roadside bar... and then he continued his quest for looking an honest truckdriver who wasn't trying to fuck him in the backside of his truck.

But it's only a speculation of mine.

Have a good night my dear readers...

I thought you were lying at first. That you were pulling my leg for an attention. But it was real, wasn't it... "I don't love you anymore", feels like coffin slabs... every word of this.

I remember saying "OK" and turning my back and walking to the main street looking for a cab, while weeping silently. You were shouting my name but I didn't, couldn't turn back. Perhaps you want to ease your conscience by telling me why's and when's and who's... but I didn't care, I still don't.

My home was in a mess 4 days after I broke up with you. Uneaten corn flakes was on the desk, gathering and feeding a small colony of flies and whatnot. I woke up, semi-sober but willing to make it gone by the night, and turned on the computer. I checked my mails, perhaps looking for your mail adress but there weren't any. I deleted spams while thinking about the past... I mean why did it happened? I was a good lover wasn't I... seems I wasn't... but I think killing blow was my own doing. I thought you were cheating on me so I retaliated. Retaliated... what a word huh? Funny, it feels like success but actually it's a whole failure through and through. It means you acted on rage, anger and pain... it's in that order. I fucked that 18 year old buck whom I had met in a bar. Told that I was an artist, and I was, and can make her famous as anything. So we drank and laughed and went to her place and I fucked the hell outta her. I wrote a note to her, including my cell number and went out.

I was feeling smug... the day smelt like newly minted money. All settled and all balanced! Sunshine was good and warming my heart and body. I whistled while coming to home and you asked "Honey, What's the matter?" I shrugged... "Nothing sweets... It feels like a job well done" You see I told you that I was working late on a friend's project. You didn't suspect anything. I ate a full breakfast and kissed you afterwards, feeling satisfied and won... maybe. But now you are with someone else and I am... I feel broken, beaten and battered.

The girl who I didn't know her name called me that day, while working on a photo. I answered the buzzing phone. "Yeah?" "Hello Jonathan" I looked at the number it wasn't recorded, "Well, you know me, who are you?" "I'm Sandra." "Sandra?" "The girl you bedded last night..." memories were unfolding and I stood speechless for a moment "Y... yeah Sandra. What can I do for you?" She giggled "Nothing, you silly. Are you up for another rig tonight?" I should have said No. But I didn't and went... saying another lie to you... and this went until she took an eliza test and resulted positive. And yeah... I didn't protect myself... and told that to you. I could see your heart was broken beyond any recognition, and I understood... there wasn't any man in your life... never was and is. I said I'm sorry I thought... you shrieked at me, clawed my face and sobbed.

We drove to hospital without uttering a word. I parked and we went to the bloodtest laboratuary. They took our blood and sampled them. You passed clean and I got what I deserved.

I'm writing all this for you Jen. After I finish, which is pretty much now, I'll go to the medcab and take any pills I can manage. I'm sorry honey... but that can't change anything now can it...

Good bye
Jonathan.

"We are living in a reality that is more real than the real and I call it Hyperreal" said Baudrillard in his book of Simula and Simulacrum. I cannot agree more... we are truly living in a mainstream of manic paranoid consuming. I consume therefore I exist is the existantial philosophy of post modernism. And before you can consume something you need to feel the craving for it... every item creates a need based on it. For example you find Da, which is itself a product of consumer economy, and before you send your deviations you must have a deviation therefore you'll go and buy a digital camera, for making it work you also buy a pack of batteries and of course to charge them you'll also buy a charger. Then a tripod for shooting more clear pictures... not to mention the desire for bigger better machines for catching more clear pictures... and remember we started only with dA. Can you imagine other sorts of sign interactions you are in it? (Maybe I should buy a tablet for drawing more clearer images... bigger better...)

that is an ourobouros. At the moment you are buying something you instantly know that there is and will be better version of it which is beyond your financial scope. That is what divides the poor and the rich. The acquisition and the usage of signs. You can win the lottery but still you won't be considered as "rich" because you don't know how their world of sign works and you can't enter to that world. That's why paris hilton and all that media publicized richs' lifes are so meaningless to us. They have a moral which is more moral than the moral. They became our sinner prophets and our virgin whores... so near but so far away which is ideal background for the idealized sex - like pornography - just an idealized copulation which is available at any moment. and of course like any recycled object turned into a sign it needs other signs to interact. For getting that item - sex - you should possess other items. Aesthetic isn't a concern right now because of society's horrible way of sign economy; ugly is a concept which does not exists - even "ugly" has its admirers and therefore it's a beauty of some sort. You can't escape from this horrible alienation.

Everyone is so addicted to this consuming craze that they can't imagine a life without it. We are living in a lie and we're loving every moment of it. We love to choose between coke and pepsi or mc donald's and burger king. They may produce the same product - refreshment and food - but we are apt to think different modes of thinking before them and that is a lie. We love their sterility we can drink a pepsi in anywhere and can be sure of its taste. No locality... we are living in a big market and we expect it to obey to us and it obeys... by supplying the same product over and over...