M Janet Mars

Happy Happy Scrapbook

She opened her stomach with a broken bottle of the finest French wine, while a million media photographers disappeared behind a sea of flashes and pale faces. She took her entrails and, using one of her intestines, started to choke herself for the cameras. The people applauded, the people rejoiced. One television reporter, with his cameraman behind, approached her with his microphone, while she barely gasped for air. “This is a fashion statement,” she said to the million viewers at home. “This is not a suicide. This is a fashion statement.”

[Flash 10 is required to watch video]

TEST GRND

[Flash 10 is required to watch video]

LUCKY BE THE OTHERS

the newew pictres of meril strep as margret tratcher fro he movei iron laddie

the newew pictres of meril strep as margret tratcher fro he movei iron laddie

There is two kinds of people in the world.

Those who have Japanese fonts installed.

And those who do not.

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
M Janet y los Surfing Arcanis

Arcanum: Theme from Max Payne

The flesh of the fallen angels. The new Surfing Arcanis.

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
E. Stiles

Rainbows (Here We Go Again)

Dorky hip-hop for hip-hop nerds. Scratching style master E. Stiles new track. My new song for today. Scratchy scratchy scratch.

You did not look behind the colours, the shades, the expression of contempt. Content with the superficial beauty of your skin, slowly turning into a carcass from your insides, starving, drowning, disappearing in the mirror, a dead person staring back. Wake up or either fall asleep forever, victim of your scar-less self-mutilation ritual loop will never end. Pain will be a constant variable, a reminder of mortality, viciously devouring you from the inside, depression parasite in your entrails, biting, scratching. Take your eyes out. Your will to live will become a perilous step-by-step technical suicide of fate and hopeful blind hopelessness revisited, tormented, damaged, nightmarish, disturbed. Time will become almost infinite in front of your eyes, every small twitch will last a century of torture. You’ll be dying.