From the desk of Digby. J Gouser with entries from Bing Williams and Gilroy Gustovou.

They were hunted for their hides in the nineteenth century, nearly to extinction.

No direction yet. I'm getting too far in to stop any time soon. Strange, sick things are happening in this world today, and probably twice as many by tomorrow. The year is two thousand and eleven and there is going to be unimaginable trouble upon us soon.

There seems to have been a lot of big talk around the changes happening in this world, one giant tidal wave of destruction left to finish us all off. I doubt it's any of my business though. So I've decided I won't waste too much time thinking or talking about the supposed distant end of our free world. Is it a New World Order? Or the entire end of our whole existence as we know it? There is supposed to be global disaster of biblical proportions that may await us in the near future. I have no idea what it is, or what that might mean. I just know that it sounds like trouble and has been some big issue for some time now. It just seems to be half a scare tactic to me, though it still does feel as if I've been affected by this directly. By this insane uproar, or outburst it causes when people talk about it. Then so what if it's true? What would you do? Live life? There is still no way to be sure, so I'm just going to go my own way today. I have a bias outside opinion on politics, by that I mean I have not followed or watched. I have no party preference, nor are my opinions too strong, but that doesn't stop me from being forward and blunt on the topic if I have to. It just might come up once and a while, and I just might have to say something, especially, if they want to keep throwing these numb dingbats in our parliament buildings.

This is getting ridiculous. This demanding fast paced life we all live, almost forces us back and forth before tossing us into realities ugly grip. We have no choice left. To live we have to play by their rules, all of them. To wake up everyday and face the fierce turbulent world these monsters have built around us. Now more than ever it feels like a prison when I thought we were a free country. We've been tricked. Forced into a life much too brutal to get by the old fashion way. I fear I have to do something quick. Severe social class separations and violence, has left the world divided almost to extreme proportions. The state of our economy always seems to dwindle on the edge of collapsing. Not to mention the corporate control, and all the ever so convenient secret manipulations that our very own government comforts us with. Then there's the neighbor. This vulgar abuse of authority has taken advantage of me, and I now know I'm not the only one. It's no coincidence that we feel this way. After all the beatings, the judgment, the oppression and fear. At the end of the day we still have to go home to our families. Still have to grind through the day asking, "Is it just me? Maybe it's just been my imagination the whole time. Why does it feel like we're being ripped off?" I don't know much about how the world works, I just know how it feels so far. There's no way of telling how it will all turn out, all I know is that this is not over yet. Not by a long shot.

You can bet that my approach is not going to be new, clever, nor is it witty. It's exactly as I intended though, never as good as it seems, but always too good to be true. A cold bitter reality that's almost too hot to handle. This hasn't been easy for me and it's going to get a whole lot harder. That's all right for now. There are bigger problems to worry about. There's a lot of fun to be had as well. There is going to be plenty of time to reminisce of times past. Good and sour. Whether I like it or not these will be the years to hold on to. These were the years you were really supposed to grip, and cherish. All I can recall was just running around trying to be wild as possible in this mixed up, crazy world. Some of us grew up quick and moved on with our lives'; the rest of us might not have grown up at all. I stayed behind for now until I knew which direction I really intend to go with this. Maybe I rely on this town now, maybe I'm just lazy. It really is a nice place to be. I was at least comfortable for now, and that alone makes up a good portion of my life. It's important to stay comfortable. I think all of us that were left, were left looking for something else down here. Maybe we were just having a little too much fun. Maybe I couldn't handle the change. Or could it just have been the fact that we all liked it a little bit on the weird side.

I'm on the fast track of trying to remember what it is I was out there trying to chase, if in fact, I was ever out there chasing anything. Was I really truly, trying to get something accomplished, or was it just another fit of anger, despair and passion, one last vein attempt to lash out and try to be heard? Still can't quite remember clearly. What ever it was, it does not look good from here. I'm starting at the bottom, with no education, no experience, no luck.

I think the plan for most people was to get rich quick, or die trying. Always' chasing those bigger, sexier, seductive dollar signs. My plan went a little different, something much longer with a lot more plot twists and a little bit of bittersweet writers block. Which can hit at any given moment, harder than a cop in riot gear. It's time to move on with my talents. Time to see if I can paint a picture as well with my words as I can with my paint. Which, for me, has just been another waste of beautiful, beautiful time. I'm not moving forward very fast yet, but at least I am still moving forward.

We never really had the best sense of direction or much discipline growing-up. Maybe that it self could suffice for all of the gradual receding of morals we were left to struggle with. That never really could stop the will of the people though, there's still hope left in the masses. I am still alive, still here. This fact itself almost forces me awake everyday, and pries at the letters on my keyboard, and says, "You're not done, not yet you lazy bastard, there's still a story to tell." Is any of it going to be any good, or have any sort of positive impact on this crazy world? Will it even make sense? I hope so, but also severely doubt it. About now, I'm ready to leave that up to those that run the show.

If I made a mistake, and did something wrong in the first fucking place, I'm not going to go back to obsess over it, now would I? I would just be living the same mistake over and over again, wouldn't I? So as soon as I get past crap like this, then I can continue to pursue beautiful points beyond. Until then, there's no point in getting ahead of myself. Somewhere along the way I got the ugly idea that I'm an artist and I can do what ever I want to. So I can take all the goddamn time in the world, if I wanted to. I do not seriously think like this, although I may appear to. It just takes a little longer to do things right. Am I right? Then I wonder why it seems I'm always late. I never intended to get this far but some how it caught my interest. There has to be an end to this obsolete, unfinished story. When I drink, I write, and when I write sometimes there's nothing. When there's nothing there is absolutely nothing, but other times it can strike me out of nowhere and might come out looking something more like one big, ugly thunderstorm scrawled out on whatever coloured canvas I can reach at the time.

I had only a couple of choices when it really came...