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So I'm registering and posting here in an attempt to save my seemingly dead writing voice. I used to do more writing, as well as art and music, but as of lately I've felt rather drained overall -- like writer's block, except, you know, it applies to my whole life, at the moment. I feel like a saturated painting. Like the qualities I enjoyed in myself are drifting away. I don't know why, but that whole creative outlet part of my head -- that would think of an ironic statement or make people laugh, that kind of thing -- that's been gone and forgotten. So maybe I'm around the wrong people or something. Maybe that part of me is really just dying. I don't know -- maybe it's because I've differentiated myself from the internet (my primary source of writing) over the past few months, thus I'm consequently becoming dumbed down by trivial social interaction, the incoherent vocal vernacular, and a lack of written communication. Maybe I should quit hanging out with kids my age. I don't know.


Anyway, I'm not sure if you're really allowed to post writing here. Seemed like a no-no if you don't pay, or some shit. Either way I'd appreciate feedback. I just started recently working on more novelistic writing, in contrast to my Maddox-esque social commentary. But if anyone's interested in that, you can go to, which both catalogues my writing in the journals, as well as my graphic design in my gallery.


I suppose I'm inclined to give personal information too... In short, my name's Alex. I'm a left handed sixteen year old fraternal twin who lives in a small town in Iowa (less than 8,000) -- you know, redneck-hillbilly-cowboy-hat-truckin'-marlboro-reds-"I'll beat your ass because you don't drink the same type of beer I drink" kinda town. Although, to be honest, that's probably a bit of a generalized version of my nesting zone. The fact is, it's a town with a bunch of people living boring lives, portraying over-fabricated characters and struggling to understand their existence. So yeah, there's also a bunch of over-make-up'd white women who invite eachother to their IKEA-infested houses so they can indulge in a blabbering SLAH party (Southern Living At Home magazine), where they slurp down wine like it's water and discuss how each furniture piece would better benefit their family-life and overall morale, thus protecting themselves from any sort of life-altering personal issue, as well as portraying an "everything in my life is perfect" facade for their wide-mouthed bitchy friends, who are doing the same thing for the same god damn reason. God forbid we actually relate on a personal or emotional level.


Anyway, it's nice to meet you.