This latest endeavour with the cliche name is another selfish act of mine to add to my digital epitaph. These entries are taken from a small pile of composition notebooks dating from 2008-2011. Most of these ideas were the foundation of construxnunchux to be used as a digital diary for Ian and I. I am going to transcribe some of the scribblings inside of these notebooks to share with you all. My goal always is to entertain but also to add to the deeply personal nature of this website.  Enjoy.




[Editor's Note: This is another letter format addressed to Ian discussing our upraising and how the world views us]

Dear Ian,

I wish I had the ability to tell you that I loved you but we both know that would mean nothing. The ability to love has been systematically cut away from us.

How did we become so damaged? So incapable ...

I appreciate your selflessness when you come and visit. I know its not getting any easier. It's hard looking in the mirror and seeing a man so defeated by life - so ravaged by outside influences.

My question is: Did we ever have a chance at normalcy OR is this just an excuse we use when we cant cope with the reality given to us??? I dont have an answer, little brother.

I know our parents never played with us. They never told us we were loved. We were punished hard for childish digressions.  We (You in particular) were never praised, encouraged, or supported. We were never taught lessons in patience, humility, or compassion. We were never shown how to operate in the real world, just to hate everyone around us and to turn your back on people who don't think similarly. When something you once cherished turns its back on you, throw it out and bury yourself into a new frivolous endeavor.

Stranglehold.
Chokehole.
Squeeze, Squeeeze Squeeeeeeze.

Turn your back on the animals who arent like you.

Bend perceived society to fit your ideals. Make it work for YOU!

This is apart of us just like our fingers and toes. Its inside of us like a a parasite.

-- paul