Well, well well. Here we are! You've waited the wait, kept the faith, stuck it out for long enough to see the dawning of this fortuitous moment. Welcome, welcome to the brand spanking new version of Anodemud: The Speaker for the Dead Story!
In case you've forgotten, my name is June. That's right, J-U-N-E June, like the sixth month in the solar calendar. But you know what? That's not my name-- not the one I was given. It's the name I made up for myself. I've made up many names for myself over the years-- my real names. fROzen I was in my youth, Tattoogal they call me on ffnet and Taya 17 Nimgil Janeway I am known on the forums. But you will know me as June, the Speaker for the Dead, and Anodemud is my diary.
Anodemud has been since late 2001, and for most part of its wretched existence I ignored it, or paid only passing attention to it. The only time I consistently blogged on it was in 2003.
Well, ladies and gents, 2003 was one great bloody git of a fucked-up year. And my blog, if anything, was twice as fucked up as the year was. It went through up and downs, ins and outs, plus half a dozen other orientations (sexual or otherwise) before I finally got fed up with it and abandoned it completely.
Because it was a farce.
Because half the time what I posted here was just a deliberate effort on my part to sound angsty, to sound depressively melancholic, to sound like a cool tormented goth chick who was suffering the worst pain she'd ever felt in her life.
Okay, so maybe I was (what about "fucked-up year" did you not understand?) but fuck that, I'm not a whiner. Yes I whine a lot IRL but only because whining together with other people makes me perversely happy. Whining in blogs just makes me want to puke. Not at the time when I'm posting the whiny entry, of course, but a few months down the road when I re-read the entry and go, "Holy shit, how fake was that?"
Worse still, the fake angst didn't even have the decency to be completely fake so I could brush it off as "me-just-being-a-complete-poser". There was actually substance to all that drama. Re-reading this diary was like opening a old, rotten can of slimy half-digested worms pumped out of the stomachs of a carrion-eater.
Yeah, ugh.
So I decided to exorcise the demons by completely purging this diary and starting over. And hot damn, it felt good, just like popping a zit and squeezing out all the pus from deep inside feels good. It's a tedious, disgusting job, but once you're done you feel much better because you know things are gonna heal.
And now we're here, at the rebirth, the dawn of a new age. Exciting? Perhaps not. There's no guarantee that I'm going to be posting here regularly at all. Once a week, maybe. But those of you hoping for daily updates can dreaaam onnnn. Yeah, go ahead! Fly your little kites in the pretty purple sky while the little paper flowers flutter in the phantom breeze!
What I can guarantee, though, is that what you're going to get here is me, the real me: raw, uncensored and completely uncooked. All the insanity and naivete and outrageousness in me is going to be unfettered and given a free hand to inflict their Jack the Ripper-esque horrors on the world of bits.
And hey, I think dear old Jack had some good ideas going there, okay?
So you've been warned. This blog is NOT going to be polite. Those of you who know me IRL may be surprised, because I may seem like the nice, sweet polite girl next door whom guys wouldn't be afraid to show their moms. Ha, sorry to disillusion you, but what goes on inside ::taps cranium:: is anything but. You have been warned!
And if you're shocked by the sudden onset of vulgarity on this blog-- why? Trust me, I swear decadently. Except that you never hear it because I mumble under my breath or say it in my head. In fact if you know me you'd know I've been in trouble twice for vulgar language: once in primary school (hey, I only said "shit" in front of my English teacher-- what's up with that?). And the second time when some shitfaced AC boy in this computing class I was pissing me off so I stood up and screamed "FUCK YOU!" for the whole class to hear and some pansy-assed RI boy took offense and complained to his parents who went to the in-charge of the programme yadda yadda.
Damned Singaporean kids too prissy these days, I tell you. Thank goodness there's NS to corrupt save the souls of our boys to the Dark Underbellies Of Human Language.
And for the cynics who've read thus far and are thinking, "Yeah right, and how real is THIS?"... Look up, dudes. See that picture? See what it says? "Fuck Reality". Do what it says. Listen to Descartes. There's no such thing as reality. Believe what you will.
If you don't like what you see here, if you're shocked, scandalized, disappointed, feel free to run away. Forget this blog ever existed. I don't care. As long as I'm here, and I feel for this blog, I don't care much else who reads or doesn't read it.
That is all. Thank you for reading.
"You have a voice, don't lose it
You have a choice, so choose it
You have a brain, so use it
The time has come to peace the fuck out."
~~Travis, "Peace the Fuck Out"
The Speaker For The Dead
2004-01-08
12:27 a.m.
