wanna-be mad scientist, artist, fringe interest, musician, writer, creative, working class, aspiring revolutionary.

It is the goal of the terrorist to achieve a position of moral legitimacy for their violence; it is the revolutionary who has already gained that justification.

We are the drones you see parading the expressways and side streets. Cascading like an ever flowing ebb of disease, ferrying to and fro, from work and back again like the complacent little ants we are. Our workplace is our death chamber yet it is our provider and life-sustainer. We live in a world of cruel irony and dull-humor. We are the asshole in the shitty car ahead of you, with mismatched doors, broken windshield and dented bumper. The car that overheated and stalled, causing you to suffer a 3 minute delay in your suit and tie fantasy. An air conditioned office, comfortable-adjustable seat, and solid oak desk where you sit on your ass while getting paid twenty dollars an hour more then you are worth.

We are the hardened hearts, the callused hands and the bruised egos. We exist in the grey mundane world that you believe we created for ourselves. We have a smile on our face but weariness settles into every crack and sinew of our body, tearing at the very fabric of our existence. We struggle to make ends meet and pray that next month we might come out a few dollars ahead so we may enjoy some of the simple pleasures in life that you take for granted. A quiet weekend alone, a few hours to lay around and relax in between our two jobs and family affairs. Never would we dream of a weekend trip to that famous ski resort you told me about or the vacation to Hawaii that you just returned from. Your pictures looked lovely, that expensive photo-finishing lab must really be worth the extra $25. My vacation was spent sitting on the front porch crying because I didn’t have enough money for groceries, and my photos are done at a 1 hour photo lab, they are dull in comparison, but my memories will be kept just the same.

To those of you who are new to this game, with your high hopes of digging yourself out of this pit. The class war is long and hard. This label is not easily removed. The harder you try the deeper the hole and the harder the fall is the motto of the working class. Those of us who are veterans will be here to catch you and we will be here to assure you, that there is always tomorrow.

We, the working class, exist because you need sanitation workers, garbage men and restroom cleaners. You need someone to serve your lunch and dinner and to ask if you need paper or plastic. We exist to alleviate the stresses of everyday life for you fortunate few. We exist only to accommodate. The financial drudgery of life is more then we can handle. Constantly, the TV beats the notion of unobtainable materialism into our fragile subconscious. When I say our fragile subconscious I do not mean to broadcast our weakness. We compare you to a china doll, beautiful on the outside, but it is not hard to shatter glass. We are built of stone. Your petty worries and complaints roll off of our shoulders as if our world was built on a pedestal, high above your he-said-she-said bullshit. You make the American Dream seem so easily obtainable. Yet, you were born into the Dream, you never struggled for anything a day in your life. You do not know the meaning of struggle. I do. I struggle every day. I am tired. I have tried to hard and for to long to achieve this idealistic, shit-filled pipe dream. Your world is unobtainable from where I stand. Occasionally I muster the courage to look up at you while you stand there with shit-smeared grin, ready to spit in my face and remind me that I will never be as good as you.

Please, don’t mistake my anger as jealousy. You see there is more to life than this. That 40 inch plasma screen TV, those new infrared golf clubs that are guaranteed to improve your putting accuracy by .01%, none of that matters ... it can’t matter. There has to be more to life than this. The meaning of life can not be accumulation. Yet you decorate your existence with the latest fashions and hottest items. You display your insecurities like hard earned trophies on a shelf. The base is weak and soon your life will come crashing down.

I am not an effigy

Member: Absence of Faith (industrial), Empyrean Asunder (industrial) www.empyreanasunder.com www.myspace.com/empyreanasunder www.myspace.com/absenceoffaith www.templeofpain.empyreanasunder.com