Below are the 10 most recent journal entries recorded in ZOMBOR's LiveJournal:

Tuesday, August 10th, 2004
9:57 am	ZOMBOR RETURNS! Greetings, humans! As you can well see, Zombor has returned. To answer any questions you creatures may have about Zombor's long absence, be it known that he had gone to what is known as 'Hollywood' with intentions of becoming a writer of fictions. Needless to say, things did not go in Zombor's favor, so he is here again, trapped in this glass bottle for you humans to view. Know that this past experience in the entertainment market has hardened Zombor's heart against any and all fictions-for-profit! Therefore, he will not continue with the mindless crap that had so long dominated these postings. As a key part of his intricate scheme of world-domination, Zombor will instead be offering free divinations regarding your miserable futures. Ask, and Zombor will use his substantial knowledge of the inner-workings of numbers and symbols to provide you with answers! please allow 3-6 weeks for answers. Zombor has a very busy life, and is not about to give up his day job in order to tell you that you will die choking on a peach pit. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, June 27th, 2003
10:43 pm	betrayal! it was my impression that i was making progress in our little fishing village, that before any time at all i would be able to get myself a boat, or car, or something. i am to the point where i would be satisfied with simply a direction and provisions. however, communications do not go well, and i cannot get these people to acknowledge that i do indeed understand what they are saying, and there is no excuse for their apparent failure to understand me. which is to be clearly differentiated from their new-found unwillingness to talk to me, responding almost exclusively to my demands for more tea. to understand me, you must understand my situation, and the situation of these people. i stole from them certain tablets, which speak of their religious beliefs. apparently they believe that their god will return in the form of a burlap man, who will dance and sing through the village. being the man of the moment i like to think i am, i quickly went to unnatural and explained to him what must be done; that i will require his burlap skin for a day. compensations were agreed upon, contracts drawn up, and everything was in order, till i began the transaction. the first incision was, naturally, at the left foot, and, unnaturally, exposed a skeletal foot. i demanded an explanation, but all i was given was a slow writhing. the options were clear, either i ignore it, cut off the foot, or leave the room. of course it would be ethically wrong to ignore, obscene to cut off, and the door is right there. while i was outside, i tried to determine the best course of action. it was clear he was not well, quite possibly the enemy. by the time i was resolved to confront him on the issue, and explain what sort of answers i needed, he was gone. it didn't take long to locate him, however, as i only had to follow the hideous howling. i found him staggering around the village like a drunken monkey. i knew there was going to be trouble. the natives' initial reaction was one of rejoicing, and the showering of unnatural with fruit. minutes passed before they they heard the stomping of his terrible foot. when that was noticed, it was all over. silence befell everyone. for reasons understandable, we are exiled to a hut on the far end of the village, allowed to return once a day in order to get food and access the internet. they didn't think i understood what they were saying, so they wrote it down for me. i wish i knew where they got the paper from, it is quality stock. i haven't slept for three days, and i am not willing to do so any time soon; i am wary of unnatural. his foot sticks out like a sore thumb. it is an indication of something, something i do not like. he saved my life back under the boat, but i am not yet willing to expose mission-critical details to him. i need a solution, and soon. Current Mood: uncomfortable (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, June 15th, 2003
7:33 pm	i have no idea where i am the above is, quite naturally, a lie. i'm pretty sure i'm in northern morocco. as it is with most plans, my plan had little to no correlation with the world at large. the contacts the lord of the rails recommended to me were very generous, and asked for only a nominal fee to let me pass, and indeed to let me pass straight through france as well. apparently international agreements can be made, of this i was not aware. however, i only got as far as canet-en-roussillon before i had to get off. perhaps some of you can sympathize, if spain was ridiculous, france was unendurable. the lack of organization, of a single sober face, is infuriating. especially if you are trapped in a cargo car with six of these beings. they will chant for hours in their monotone moonman language, never ceasing. i must admit that as annoying as this was, it was quite skilled; they were timed in such as way as to make it impossible to tell that any of them ever ceased to exhale for the duration of the chant. regardless, or perhaps i should say because of the above, it was time for an alternate method of transportation . i decided to make the rest of the journey by boat, or at least the bulk of it. i traded the rest of my bill of passage from the brotherhood of the track for room on the next ship headed for ladispoli, participation in a mule-train headed from there to vatican city, and a pound of cured fish. what happened next is difficult to explain, as i am not exactly sure myself. either a mistake was made, or i got sold bad information, but regardless the result was a ship not going east, instead west. i had the wonderful opportunity to spend well over a day in the cargo hold, with none to keep me company but the rats and a man made of sand-bags. i must admit that i did not have the best vantage point to observe what happened next, so, if i were to go on solely what i personally witnessed, i would say that a large tentacle tore into the belly of the ship and eventually brought it to the bottom of the sea. i found myself grasping on to the sand-bag man, who floated all too well. i name him unnatural. we drifted to a small island, inhabited by a middle-aged couple. both were quite pleasant when alone, totally silent when the other was present. they had lived on that island for something around six months, subsisting on hermit crabs (which they referred to as mini-lobsters). they had begun building a rather sea-worthy boat, but one had made some accidental admission of infidelity in the past,a wonderful argument started, and they ended up tearing the boatling apart and not speaking to each other again. that was some two months ago. needless to say, this is not an effective working environment, so again was the harpoon fashioned, and negotiations undertaken. we were adrift for two days before coming to shore. during that time the couple was completely silent, which i guess was nothing unusual for them. i spoke to them nearly the whole time, and eventually was able to work out a system with them by which they would splash the water a number of times in order to signify certain responses. after hitting shore it was a small walk to a coastal village, where unnatural and i now sit and sip tea. i think it's tea. all in all, i'm farther from my destination (probably), lost my shoes, and am smelling strongly of the sea. that is the last time i take a route through france. Current Mood: drained (Comment on this)
Friday, June 6th, 2003
1:04 pm	lifestyles of the short and ugly i thank clancy for his help in the matter, though his information lead someplace most unexpected. i began my search for this purported 'lord of the rails' by asking around for the shortest, roundest, ugliest man known. this invariably led me from circus to carnival all over southern spain. in this way i was eventually brought to the 'lord of the rails.' much has changed since my friend had seen him; he is a priest now, with a flock comprised of the area's shortest and most repulsive residents. though it could easily be argued that he has only moved from one subculture of freaks to another, i would say that he has improved himself. he invited me to dinner at his humble home, where i had no chance to avoid the topic of clancy's escapades, for the first thing he told me was the tale of how he was saved; a brigand beat him down and took his money, his wives left him in an attempt to follow said brigand, and when he was left with nothing, the lord jesus, short and ugly, came down to him and told him it was a sign, that he must change his ways. now, i find it rather odd that christ would send you a sign, only to immediately after come down and tell you directly what is what, but who am i to judge? he left the Brotherhood (or so he says, but from the look in his eyes i suspect he was driven out) and came to this town to teach his fellow carnies (meant to denote a species more than an occupation) that they are closer to christ than they may know. he has taken wife and has even spawned an uglette of his own. he was kind enough to write me an endorsement to bring to the Brotherhood, but as i am not sure on what terms he left, i don't know if it is the sort of thing i'll want to wave around. perhaps i'll only mention it if things get to the point where they couldn't get much worse. he was also able to give me names and locations of members who are known to be sympathetic to the wayward traveler, and are more likely to allow me transportation without fee. i may get out of this hell-hole country yet. Current Mood: pensive (Comment on this)
Tuesday, June 3rd, 2003
6:58 pm	not as easy as they say to understand a culture, you must understand its architecture. to understand its architecture, you must observe it from the proper perspective. that said, from the perspective of the destitute, spain needs more bridges. more than anything else, more than food, fire, liquor or money, a spanish vagabond will fight you for shelter. perhaps it is due to the terrible rainy season the country sees, or perhaps the innate territorial nature of the spaniard. if there is one thing the spanish lower class have not mastered, it is the manufacture of a stout piercing weapon. the cudgel and the rock are what you'll find for the most part, with the occasional store-bought (stolen) blade. in fashioning something of a harpoon for myself, i gained tactical superiority over my fellow hobo. at first i cleared out an entire underpass, but it proved unfeasible to hold such a large piece of property, so i've since settled on what passes for the average amount of living space one gets in these parts. land doesn't concern me right now; i have no plans on making a permanent residence here. tomorrow i am going south to begin negotiations with the Brotherhood of the Track for safe passage out of this country. it would be possible to avoid them, but i am tired, and want the option of sleeping on the train without fear of being cudgeled. Current Mood: accomplished (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, May 31st, 2003
3:22 pm	It's Not About the Magnets I was discussing giant robots with one of my co-workers, and mentioned how ancient mayan writings tell of how they [the giant robots] are going to come back in 2012 and kill us all. he immediately turned a very serious (and worried, i might add) note and said, "dude, don't even joke about that." i was so caught off-guard by this that i didn't pursue the subject. does this man KNOW something? answers pending. Current Mood: discontent (Comment on this)
Wednesday, May 28th, 2003
9:58 am	DISAPPOINTMENT i have been in spain for seven (7) days now, and have spent three of those days in a spanish prison, which resulted in having to spend two days sober. i am not impressed with these spanish; their language betrays a certain barbarism about them. i don't speak spanish to them, as i don't want them to get the wrong impression about me. i am trying to seem seemly, and such beastial noises would not do. the sole exception is when ordering food, as there is nothing to be hidden when eating. i place my order, avoid eye contact, and have done my best to leave without paying the bill. in this, i refuse to run. i will not run out of an establishment, it shows weakness and insensitivity. better to demand the food was without monetary value (generally true), insist that the adjacent table foot the bill, or begin distributing stigmata. the spanish are a unique race of suckers when it comes to blood or crosses, weaknesses that can be exploited on many occasions. the behavior of the typical spaniard is something of an embarassment for me. i had always enjoyed thinking that i was the master of bizarre formality and false sentiment, but these continental blokes put me to shame. their pitiful standing in the international market stems from their inability to 'get down to business,' as it were. nothing of substance is ever spoken or attempted, only danced around, as though there were time from today to tomorrow. these are by far more words than spain, as a whole, has deserved. i would be hard pressed to recommend to anyone to claim to be its king. Current Mood: nauseated (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, May 23rd, 2003
2:02 am	update: i have resolved to only wear clothing of my own design and fabrication. Current Mood: aggravated (Comment on this)
Thursday, May 22nd, 2003
11:20 pm	ha! i see you, weakling! Current Mood: belligerent (Comment on this)
Monday, April 28th, 2003
9:58 pm	holy shit! how do you work this crap? (1 Comment |Comment on this)