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oakado

[ website | arden ]
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(no subject) [Feb. 25th, 2005|12:24 am]
oakado
Anton Legoo. 352. Arden.
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(no subject) [Feb. 25th, 2005|12:23 am]
oakado
Hate
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(no subject) [Feb. 25th, 2005|12:23 am]
oakado
I
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slipping into mediocrity [Feb. 25th, 2005|12:20 am]
oakado
slipping into mediocrity i am slipping into mediocrity i am slipping into mediocrity i am slipping into mediocrity iam slipping into mediocrity iam slipping into mediocrity iam slipping into mediocrity iam slipping into mediocrityiam slipping into mediocrity i am slipping into mediocrity iam slipping into mediocrity i am slipping into mediocrity

i am crying for gelp

if i do anything harder i might justify the end.
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(no subject) [Sep. 22nd, 2004|01:07 am]
oakado
[mood |cynicalcynical]
[music |hella - hello great architect of the universe]

craggy trees with spulmik toppings and teeth that cannont see nor hear nor nor nor. a spult crull unf dein nucht ein staff. hospital it does have one or two with a view or maybe just a bit of a feud. could possibly, not sure. have to find out. may die, may not. no difference between fear of death and fear of life? chenoak, live oak, scub oak, philminatic, philatellic, oakado. the austerity of common objects in subjective fortitude in their not so common yet utterly conspicuous garb and position in the 3rd dimension. that word that feels right but fails short of descrbing a very sharp clinging and punctuate illiterate and unliteral spot in the semantic fortress of a gathering molecules that just happen to be ones brain. even lion king. even when harry met sally. strange beckonings then snatchings of different pockets of information. can make something but only in the view of the creator. can not illustrate to the massses a very particular concept trapped in the obscurity of not knowing how to translate from a mysterious electricity to a plethora of rumbling wavelengths commonly accepted as speachh.h.h.h.h.h..h.h.h.h..h.h.h.h.h.h..h.h.h.h.h.h..h.h.h.h.h.h.h.h..h.h.h...........

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cool [Sep. 4th, 2004|06:19 pm]
oakado
[mood |cynicalcynical]
[music |burning spear - tradition]

it does not make u cool to take any type of medication.
your parents jobs do not make u cool.
your friends do not make u cool.
it does not make u cool to be from new york.
it does not make u cool to be diagnosed with some type of mental/ personality disorder.
being addicted to a drug does not make u cool.
having a nice car could make u cool.
having an accent does not make u cool.
listening to underground/obscure/indie anything does not make u cool.


ur thoughts make u cool.
ur identity makes u cool.
ur ability to handle situations makes u cool.

i am NOT cool.
i have lost touch with a modern commercialized idea of cool.
i abide by a very personal and subjective paradigm of cool.

thus, it should be taken that my axioms of cool and uncool or completely and solely bound to me, and has no grasp on the subjectivism of YOU.
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An extensive subjective interpretation of an absurb song [Aug. 8th, 2004|05:42 am]
oakado
[mood |cynicalcynical]
[music |Insane Clown Posse - The Loons]

This is an in depth personal analysis of a totally meaningless song by Insane Clown Posse called "The Loons" from their Ringmaster album, circa late 90s. To understand this exposition, please download the song and refer to it as a guide.

Insane Clown Posse - The Loons
ICP - The Loons


* A side note; im totally not serious about this..*

-Backstory.
At the ripe age of say 15 or 16, my ears stumbled across the campy sounds of a shock-rap duo named Insane Clown Posse. Looking back, the shit sucks and is just way too serious for such a ridiculous idea/premise.. but its campy-ness and carnival influence persuaded my opinion towards it to be deemed "strange, shocking, funny and fun" music. But after all, they are two fat white dudes with clown make-up making fucked up corny rap with a influential foundation of the carnival and of morally devoided substance (that is if u want to be a bitch about it).. but nonetheless, this song has history with me that i have just recently discoverd.. and with my new adult skills of interpretation and the process in which i convert that and convey it, i will describe to u how i view this song.


- The Music.
Alright so the song starts up with two of the basic music vices looped throughout the song 1.) the cheesily creepy and airy ewwhh ewwhhhhhh, ewwhh ewwhhhhh... and 2.) a faint carnival-istic chimy loop thats indicative of a nursery rhyme which is a somewhat faithful theme in the song. the approach of taking a creepy ghost type "ewwhhhh" sound and mixing it with a chimy children style riff morphs and accentuates the secret potential of nursery-rhyme/childrens things to be eerily creepy.. so a success to icp on that.. this continues throughout the intro of the song and acts as a liason for the chessy rap-beat that creeps in right before the first verse. I personally love the crazy owl sound that is looping through the song. nostalgia maybe.. but of course objectively it is used to add to the wicked mood of the piece. The sporatic funk-guitar sound is somewhat creatively used to pile into the strange aura being attempted here while still paying respects to musical depth. This still is ur traditional looping rap-style song so the constant repition of the sounds add to the creepiness at first, but eventually catalyst a downfall into such lands as "annoying", or "cheesy".. but i guess they did what they had to..

- The Lyrics.
"ring" - establishing a phone call situation..

"hello?" - the innocence of pre-supposed manners in telephone etiquette

"neckcutta" - obviously an alias indicating his preferred method of execution

"pardon?" - creating the idea of innocence. the polarization of the mind of this killer

"neckcutta" - again.. proclaiming himself and foreshadowing to the victim..

"who is this?" - an indication of sub-retaliation.. shes trying to take charge

"neckcutta" - staying staunch with his identity

"who do you wish to speak with?" - becoming aggresively decisive/ not puttin' up with it

"your neck" - a very concrete yet abstract threat of death.. a thrill for killer to play with his victim in such a manner

"what?" - reacting to a strange comment; maybe aware of its true meaning

"neckcutta, neckcutta, neckcutta, neckcutta, neck...cutta" - an extensive proclamation of identity, leading into a yell of insanity and painting an aural picture of his mental state

"Little Miss Muffet, oh, she never had a clue
Of the psychopathic wicked clown is finna do "

- establishing the theme of a nursery rhyme, particularly Ms. Muffet, creeped up on by a spider.. indicative of the "neckcutter's" immediate situation. here he also is inserting his real life persona of a clown, as well as reassuring the fact that he is crazy and he is "finna" to do something fucked up.

"Creeping through the backyards underneath the moon
Only three blocks away, the joker looney toon "

- describing his journey towards his climax; identifying that he is only 3 blocks away from cuttin' a neck and that hes again fucking crazy.. the moon also of course symbolizes lunatics, or loons..

"Listen to the loon, listen to the pain
Listen to the one they call the Violent J Insane"

- again describing hisself in the position of the neckcutter, and declaring his pain in which he must relinquish in his neck cutting action

"Watch me as I duck and I dash through the night
I can see the shadows of the moon in my butcher knife "

- creeping around and shit.. the thing that caught me here is that u can not see shadows.. it would just be dark.. possibly hes describing the darkness of the moon falling on his knife.. but the moon would only give off glowing light.. and the objects around him would be casting the shadows onto his butcher knife..

"Pretty little world has created this monster
See me living with a dead body in a dumpster "

- a creepy musical break with a foundation of the chimy nursery music, accentuating the theme of the scary possibilites of childrens things and carnivals.. also shining light into the creation of the neck cutter and his current position and mindset..


"Laughing in your castle but I can't crush your moat
But then I take a boat and cut your fucking throat "

- here a very complex thing is happening.. an somewhat poetic metpahor is created iniside of the metaphor of the song.. almost like taking the story of this neck cutter as a given truth, and making a metaphor of it inside itself.. very detached from society and extremely self-encaged..

"So now I'm getting closer so I crawl under a house
I'm waiting for the car to pass and then I crawl back out"

- alright thats cool.. looking out.. at least hes smart and playing it safe.. realistically, u cant be too cocky in his situation..


"Another block down just a little ways to go...
"Hello?" "

- letting u know despite all of the description and insights into his mind, hes still making that journey and hes almost but not quite there.. and the "hello", almost out of rhythm in timing in the song, signifies his victim is still prevalent and still innocently answering his beckonings..








PART TWO LATER WHEN I FEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL<--------------IKE IT
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(no subject) [Aug. 7th, 2004|06:39 am]
oakado
[mood |cynicalcynical]
[music |the books - tokyo]

Dear Journal,

What are you. Are u an instance of a web-application? Do u have no soul? How do u feel about me. Do u have an opinion on what i write. Possibly u could declare that i am corny and stupid. possibly u could declare that u are a slave to my imagination. possibly u are nothing at all except a cataloged library of seemingly arbitrary 0's and 1's that are socially interpreted into the formation of the somewhat insignificant literary expressions of a human being named anton in the very specific moment of time in the history of this world.. the scale that this thought describes of a very specific idea and moment in time compared to the infinite amount of specific moments in time that have occured in the past and the very pretentious future.. it leads the chaos of my internal environment (my mind plus an significant amount of abstraction) to realize its place and give up on interest of subjectivity in things from the new-found focus of a world beyond the innards of myself that is thus purely based on the existence of an infinite number of objects, physically and meta-physcially, made up from an infinite number of intrinsic objects. this journal is an object; possible of having a relation with an endless number of other objects. this can go on into infinite. this can not make sense or stop stop stop stop (voiced in a monotonous tone .) stop././//////////////////////////////_+***********************&$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$^@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@&Q


ttttttt)))))))))))))))))}--------------| |--


44444|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| this iks thwer enddddd(minus this vice i used in my last journal)..... i am not original. i AM not cool.
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Encapsulations of Light 7.26 [Jul. 26th, 2004|04:35 pm]
oakado
[mood |cynicalcynical]
[music |the microphones - lanterns]

Refer to http://anton.infinixmedia.com

New Entry 7.02

one night pre-empting july4th. a cheap prepackaged medley of fireworks. 3 cameras, one internet bound and incarnate here. black dominance with erradicating gases and various packets of flames. fuckin with the dog. an excrement of smoke. 3 fountain fireworks, strategically aimed to light each other; firework battle lit by each other. one got fucked up and turned into a shell of ash. the end.


New Entry 7.04

Aripeka crab shack. One garbage bag of fireworks. A $60 16 mortar shot. A bridge 100 yards away with a shitload of people containing massive amounts of fireworks. Alcohol friends and visiting friends. Not the End.

New Entry 7.05

New day via time, same day subjectively. Inside. Water below. Familiar. Alcohol.


New Entry 7.12

An attempt, anxious fated. Crazy shit out in the woods. Jake, pile of clothing. Justin burning shit, Creating passive moments of burning destruction. Billows of black smoke, rain water in trash; splash and then out.


New Entry 7.20(24)

San Antonio swings, North Tampa rapids. Madeira beach with maternal figure. Lone wanderings, semi-failing attempts to vacate.




Fuck you anton.
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XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxx [Jul. 10th, 2004|07:39 pm]
oakado
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