<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487</id><updated>2011-10-31T13:03:34.854-07:00</updated><category term='End of the world'/><category term='joe clements'/><category term='dave matthews'/><category term='creative.'/><category term='joe'/><category term='clements'/><category term='joeclements.net'/><title type='text'>Waste your time with me...</title><subtitle type='html'>This is my personal blog with random inserts of lyrics I want to remember, poems I write, ideas, lies, truths and anything I want.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>90</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-1831024932621097736</id><published>2009-01-12T12:17:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-12T12:23:48.145-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dirty Houston | Feb 7th | Ticketmaster.com</title><content type='html'>They have alrea​dy begun​ to sell,​​​ and the space​ is limit​ed.​​​&lt;br /&gt;Note:​​​ Last time there​ was 1000 peopl​e that could​n'​​​t get in, so hurry​ and get your ticke​ts.​​​ NO GUEST​ LIST!​&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://dirty30.publishpath.com"&gt;Event​ Websi​te&lt;/a&gt; will give you acces​s to purch​asing​ ticke​ts,​​ or you can &lt;a href="http://www.ticketmaster.com/The-Dirty-Houston-Nik-Richies-Dirty-30-tickets/artist/1286598"&gt;click​ here&lt;/a&gt; and be direc​ted to the ticke​t purch​ase.​​&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://dirty30.publishpath.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/dirty/Dirty-Flyer-draft.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They have alrea​dy begun​ to sell,​​​ and the space​ is limit​ed.​​​&lt;br /&gt;Note:​​​ Last time there​ was 1000 peopl​e that could​n'​​​t get in, so hurry​ and get your ticke​ts.​​​ NO GUEST​ LIST!​&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://dirty30.publishpath.com"&gt;Event​ Websi​te&lt;/a&gt; will give you acces​s to purch​asing​ ticke​ts,​​ or you can &lt;a href="http://www.ticketmaster.com/The-Dirty-Houston-Nik-Richies-Dirty-30-tickets/artist/1286598"&gt;click​ here&lt;/a&gt; and be direc​ted to the ticke​t purch​ase.​​&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-1831024932621097736?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/1831024932621097736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=1831024932621097736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1831024932621097736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1831024932621097736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2009/01/they-have-already-begun-to-sell-and.html' title='The Dirty Houston | Feb 7th | Ticketmaster.com'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/dirty/th_Dirty-Flyer-draft.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-5383177914470625785</id><published>2008-12-29T22:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-29T22:21:10.330-08:00</updated><title type='text'>IMFAMOUS NYE 2009</title><content type='html'>Is there a better reason to throw a party thats to usher in a new year, full of new possibility and success? Wait I got one. My Best friends birthday! Even better lets do both!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amber Anstead, my right arm, my 3rd eye, my best friend, is having her birthday on Jan 1st, so we are combining her birthday party with my New Years party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At Club 26 Ten, located at 2610 Sage (across the street from Macy’s at the Galleria) at 9PM we are kicking it off. A plush atmosphere, with a built in sushi bar on the second floor many tables, and a great dance floor, amazing lighting, music and everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best part is, for those who are lucky enough to be attending the party with us, at 2AM when all the clubs are closing and everyone is going home, we are locking the doors, and starting our after party. Sushi at 5AM? I can’t wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope to see you there!&lt;br /&gt;Joe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/LOTP/NYE09.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 697px;" src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/LOTP/NYE09.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-5383177914470625785?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/5383177914470625785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=5383177914470625785' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5383177914470625785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5383177914470625785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2008/12/is-there-better-reason-to-throw-party.html' title='IMFAMOUS NYE 2009'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/LOTP/th_NYE09.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-5223321699290905909</id><published>2008-12-04T15:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T15:59:59.108-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Would you go to a party hosted by TheDirty.com?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.thedirty.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/Picture2.png" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are talking to Nik Richi​e and thinking of bringing him to Houst​on and have all the Dirty​ Celeb​s we all love to hate come out and give you a chanc​e to wish you were them.​ hahah​a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to know your opini​ons&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object allowFullScreen="true" allowNetworking="all" allowScriptAccess="always" data="http://program.flektor.com/program/fplayer.swf" height="340" id="flashapp_878408567" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="450"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"/&gt;&lt;param name="allowNetworking" value="all"/&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"/&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="playerStile=none&amp;mode=autoplay&amp;sharer_id=16826521&amp;flekvid=_1228432686_663390_40489_0_2_001_014&amp;embed_code_id=1030595_v1&amp;displayMode=flek&amp;sub_site=flektor&amp;sharer_domain=flektor"/&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://program.flektor.com/program/fplayer.swf"/&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-5223321699290905909?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/5223321699290905909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=5223321699290905909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5223321699290905909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5223321699290905909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2008/12/would-you-go-to-party-hosted-by.html' title='Would you go to a party hosted by TheDirty.com?'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-5588424337355010686</id><published>2008-12-03T23:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T23:51:46.877-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Every year 002 Magazine has a contest in houston between all the graphic artist and photographers. That winner recieves the Christmas editions cover. This year my art was a runner up.. No worries, but check out the winner, BLAHHHHHHH...&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The contest page in 002&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vMDAybWFnLmNvbS9tYWcvY3VycmVudC9wYWdlcy9oaV9yZXMlMjAoNDQpLmh0bQ==" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/famous/winning-page.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;My Art&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LmpvZWNsZW1lbnRzLm5ldA==" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/famous/002-Cover-Contest.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;The Winner&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vMDAybWFnLmNvbS9tYWcvY3VycmVudC9wYWdlcy9oaV9yZXMlMjAoMCkuaHRt" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/famous/p-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;What do you think, I'd like to here your comments.&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;here are the honorable mentions&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vMDAybWFnLmNvbS9tYWcvY3VycmVudC9wYWdlcy9oaV9yZXMlMjAoNDUpLmh0bQ==" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/famous/p-46.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-5588424337355010686?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/5588424337355010686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=5588424337355010686' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5588424337355010686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5588424337355010686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2008/12/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/famous/th_winning-page.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-7021198878755274695</id><published>2008-12-02T12:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T12:48:24.199-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Long time no see</title><content type='html'>I haven't been to this blog in sometime. I think because it has been more of a personal journal throughout the time I have used it and lately, looking into myself hasn't been a subject of interest. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lately I've not only lost desire to focus on looking inside carefully enough to write about it, but I have almost lost focus on anything but getting out of this house. Part of my DUI sentence was 60 days with a curfew of 6PM. Wow, for someone like me that is the worst part of it. I am so used to getting out regularly and with an obvious social addiction, it was torture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway I figured I'd atleast write something in this and maybe I'll write more soon to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ciao Joe&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-7021198878755274695?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/7021198878755274695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=7021198878755274695' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7021198878755274695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7021198878755274695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2008/12/long-time-no-see.html' title='Long time no see'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-531690437580470943</id><published>2008-05-21T17:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T18:01:05.191-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stuck!</title><content type='html'>In the corner of a box marked "lost and found" is the junction between the almost could have been and the beautiful nothing you live in this second after what was again just another moment. Not very interesting from one to the next, I guess we have to find something a little more vexed. &lt;div&gt;From that box I shout my sound with illusions that soon one day we'll all be found, by a man in a crown, who's been staring down with a blood covered frown. Is that a whisper I hear from over there, is that you? Are you looking, sifting through the consequences of each random item stored inside with an "as if" approach to the sequence of events that brought us together. Is it a dissolved purpose deciding a purgatory silence in this box marked "Lost and Found?" An old shipping sticker clearly marked for another day peeled away show stains. For sure this box is for nothing more than to sit here reminding those who still have there pencils and wallets and cell phones not to loose them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-531690437580470943?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/531690437580470943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=531690437580470943' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/531690437580470943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/531690437580470943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2008/05/stuck.html' title='Stuck!'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2408648962084146153</id><published>2008-05-08T07:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T07:22:17.459-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I've got a disease - I love this</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(71, 71, 71); font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; "&gt;Feels like you made a mistake, You made somebodys heart break&lt;br /&gt;But now I have to let you go, I have to let you go&lt;br /&gt;You left a stain, On every one of my good days&lt;br /&gt;But I am stronger than you know, I have to let you go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No ones ever turned you over, No ones tried&lt;br /&gt;To ever let you down, Beautiful girl&lt;br /&gt;Bless your heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a disease, Deep inside me&lt;br /&gt;Makes me feel uneasy baby, I cant live without you&lt;br /&gt;Tell me what I am supposed to do about it&lt;br /&gt;Keep your distance from it, Dont pay no attention to me&lt;br /&gt;I got a disease&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feels like youre making a mess, You're hell on wheels in a black dress&lt;br /&gt;You drove me to the fire, And left me there to burn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every little thing you do is tragic, All my life, oh was magic&lt;br /&gt;Beautiful girl, I cant breathe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that Im sick&lt;br /&gt;But leave me be while my world is coming down on me&lt;br /&gt;You taste like honey, honey&lt;br /&gt;Tell me can I be your honey&lt;br /&gt;Be strong, Keep telling myself it that wont take long till&lt;br /&gt;Im free of my disease&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a disease&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2408648962084146153?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2408648962084146153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2408648962084146153' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2408648962084146153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2408648962084146153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2008/05/ive-got-disease-i-love-this.html' title='I&apos;ve got a disease - I love this'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-8464656412974856494</id><published>2008-05-01T22:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T22:26:44.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hmm</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;Life is a wheel of changes But changes are life And someday we will have to say good bye But our spirit will survive  Love is phasing Love is moving To the rhythm of your sight In the darkness I get closer To the crossing point of light  Reason is lasting, passion is living And dying is teaching us how to live &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-8464656412974856494?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/8464656412974856494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=8464656412974856494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8464656412974856494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8464656412974856494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2008/05/hmm.html' title='hmm'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-1579741946845015471</id><published>2008-04-23T20:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T20:43:40.009-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Calm before the storm.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; white-space: pre-wrap; "&gt;I wondering a few things lately. From this seat the weather is beautiful. Is this going to continue. Metaphorically, the weather never stays the same for ever. I'm applying effort not to view this great time in my life negatively, but it's just so good I'm almost expecting some collapse in how great life is right now.  My job is as good as it's been and at the end of each day my career only looks brighter. My family is growing or at least I'm becoming more attached to it. My group of friends are becoming tighter and broader. My sphere of influence is definitely developing into a noticeable audience. My plans for each of the following is seamlessly happening and without obstacle.  Is this just adolescence becoming genuine maturity. Does this happen to all who apply themselves?  I really admire God for allowing me an amount of time to just breathe and enjoy my life. I am so happy that everything is just smooth.  I have only one thing in my life right now that needs some attention. But other than that one thing, EVERYTHING is perfect.  If you are around me right now, thank you for your help, and know that i've carefully chosen you to be there. You play a role in the satisfaction I get out of life right now.  Ok thats it...... Nothing real important....  Remember to "Be Famous, Get Joe"  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-1579741946845015471?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/1579741946845015471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=1579741946845015471' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1579741946845015471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1579741946845015471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2008/04/calm-before-storm.html' title='Calm before the storm.'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2046015857287260157</id><published>2008-04-20T09:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T09:33:57.219-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I broke my foot</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 1px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; "&gt;Dude so I was out Friday night with some friends. It started out great, I took my boys girl out for sushi (hahaha thats funnier than you think) and had some hang-time with some friends and saw some live music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night ended at an apartment complex and thats were the splinter in the evening began. I could get the gate to open for my motorcycle, so we jumped the fence. Not a problem until we were leaving. When I jumped the fence again, I landed smack down on my right heel, somehow forgetting to break my fall. .:CrAcK:. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn't hurt too bad that evening but I could tell something was wrong. But when I woke up in the morning, I could stand on it. I COULDN"T EVEN DRIVE MY BIKE HOME. OUCH... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So thats how it happened. I am going to the doctor tomorrow to get some professional help. Wish me luck...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2046015857287260157?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2046015857287260157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2046015857287260157' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2046015857287260157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2046015857287260157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-broke-my-foot.html' title='I broke my foot'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-1168128809250351152</id><published>2008-04-17T09:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T09:35:45.643-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clements'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joe clements'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='creative.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='End of the world'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joeclements.net'/><title type='text'>Lets see how far we've come!</title><content type='html'>Ok so sitting back I am starting to discover a trend. Everything and everyone is pushing us to the end. End of days, end of life, end of something.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The History Channel is pushing space expansion and an infinite collapse, the church is pushing the apocalypse and the fulfillment of prophecy. The scientist are pushing global warming and the melting of the polar caps, flooding Earth. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel rushed to some respect. Should be in a hurry to get there, enjoy now more, or just ignore it. What is our fascination with everything ending?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As soon as this thought enters my mind a song begins to play by Matchbox Twenty, "Let's see how far we've come." The lyrics are, " Im waking up at the start of the end of the world."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Whats going on out there?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Scott Crenshaw, a spiritual mentor of whom I've wedged myself beneathe his wing, is adventuring into a series called "heaven." Maybe thats it. Maybe it is happening and all has been, and suddenly through a series of external and internal influences I have finnaly realize it. Like wakeing up in the morning, there comes one things at a time. Sound, touch, sight, thought, etc. The world, the universe, my soul. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lets see how far we've come. Lets see how far we've come.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-1168128809250351152?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/1168128809250351152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=1168128809250351152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1168128809250351152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1168128809250351152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2008/04/lets-see-how-far-weve-come.html' title='Lets see how far we&apos;ve come!'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-1826007066468879418</id><published>2008-04-15T10:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T10:34:02.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Whoa Things have definitely changed</title><content type='html'>Wow I haven't been to my blog in a very long time. I went and read some old posts, which I wish I could remove, but I promise myself I wouldn't. I am disappointed in who I was only last year. It's amazing how much one can change in a short period of time.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'd like to thank Scott Crenshaw, my people and Venue, and all you local brats for helping become who I am today. I'm diggin the new Joe Clements, hope you are to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If your reading this, thank you too...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ciao for now. I think I'll start blogging again...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;See ya tomorrow...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-1826007066468879418?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/1826007066468879418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=1826007066468879418' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1826007066468879418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1826007066468879418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2008/04/whoa-things-have-definitely-changed.html' title='Whoa Things have definitely changed'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-806526163722584406</id><published>2008-01-18T09:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T10:06:55.902-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I sleep to dream her, still</title><content type='html'>I know I'll miss her later&lt;br /&gt;Wish I could bend my love to hate her&lt;br /&gt;Wish I could be her creator&lt;br /&gt;To twist her arms now&lt;br /&gt;She stares up at the stars when&lt;br /&gt;The stars fell from her hair then&lt;br /&gt;I bent down to collect them&lt;br /&gt;And then she was gone&lt;br /&gt;I sleep just to dream her&lt;br /&gt;I beg the night just to see her&lt;br /&gt;That my only love should be her&lt;br /&gt;Just to lie in her arms&lt;br /&gt;I came there to find out&lt;br /&gt;Find out she made up her mind&lt;br /&gt;My arms are all tied up&lt;br /&gt;To me she was blind&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-806526163722584406?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/806526163722584406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=806526163722584406' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/806526163722584406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/806526163722584406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-sleep-to-dream-her-still.html' title='I sleep to dream her, still'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-7213431139555812357</id><published>2007-11-16T08:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T08:37:31.727-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream (Nicole Richie)</title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamed that I was at some local festival and was walking through the streets and somehow nicole richie, who looked like Paris Hilton, was walking with her group og managers and stuff... I walked by and saw a drink in her hand and said "isn't that you 11th drink?" At that time The stuart news walked up and started asking her manager questions. At that time she kept walking and kept up with me... We started hangin out and walking around together.. The annoying ass crowd kept following me around...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole time i was trying get water and couldn't drink enough...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-7213431139555812357?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/7213431139555812357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=7213431139555812357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7213431139555812357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7213431139555812357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/11/dream-nicole-richie.html' title='Dream (Nicole Richie)'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-3353058671835012544</id><published>2007-10-31T15:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T15:26:40.475-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Worlds Apart</title><content type='html'>I am the only one to blame for this&lt;br /&gt;Somehow it all ends up the same&lt;br /&gt;Soaring on the wings of selfish pride&lt;br /&gt;I flew too high and like Icarus I collide&lt;br /&gt;With a world I try so hard to leave behind&lt;br /&gt;To rid myself of all but love to give and die&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To turn away and not become&lt;br /&gt;Another nail to pierce the skin of one who loved&lt;br /&gt;More deeply than the oceans,&lt;br /&gt;More abundant than the tears&lt;br /&gt;Of a world embracing every heartache&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I be the one to sacrifice?&lt;br /&gt;Oh, grip the spear and watch the blood and the water flow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To love You&lt;br /&gt;Take my world apart&lt;br /&gt;To need You&lt;br /&gt;Broken on my knees&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All said and done I stand alone&lt;br /&gt;Amongst remains of a life I should not own&lt;br /&gt;It takes all I am to believe&lt;br /&gt;In the mercy that covers me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you really have to die for me?&lt;br /&gt;All I am for all you are&lt;br /&gt;'Cause what I need and what I believe are worlds apart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look beyond the empty cross&lt;br /&gt;Forgetting what my life has cost&lt;br /&gt;And wipe away the crimson stains&lt;br /&gt;And dull the nail that still remains&lt;br /&gt;More and more I need you now,&lt;br /&gt;I owe you more each passing hour&lt;br /&gt;Battle between grace and pride&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave up not so long ago&lt;br /&gt;So steal my heart and take the pain,&lt;br /&gt;And wash my feet and cleanse my pride&lt;br /&gt;Take the selfish, take the weak,&lt;br /&gt;And all the things I cannot hide&lt;br /&gt;Take the beauty, take my tears&lt;br /&gt;My sin-soaked heart - make it yours&lt;br /&gt;Take my world all apart,&lt;br /&gt;Take it now, take it now&lt;br /&gt;And serve the ones that I despise&lt;br /&gt;Speak the words I can't deny&lt;br /&gt;Watch the world I used to love&lt;br /&gt;Fall to dust and blow away&lt;br /&gt;I look beyond the empty cross&lt;br /&gt;Forgetting what my life has cost&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-3353058671835012544?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/3353058671835012544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=3353058671835012544' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3353058671835012544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3353058671835012544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/worlds-apart.html' title='Worlds Apart'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-1160928447109537212</id><published>2007-10-29T18:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T18:04:40.434-07:00</updated><title type='text'>73 more days!!!</title><content type='html'>I am doing it. Even though all of you said I couldn't. Why you said that I don't know, I am not a promiscuous girl... haha funny... But I'm NOT!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This whole commitment sucks ass though... Not because I am flushed with opportunity, but because I have to. It would be easier I think if I didn't notice it, but this whole keeping count thing is knawing at me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just keeping you up to date...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-1160928447109537212?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/1160928447109537212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=1160928447109537212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1160928447109537212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1160928447109537212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/73-more-days.html' title='73 more days!!!'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-623477179076952512</id><published>2007-10-29T11:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T12:25:57.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The future is glowing with possibility..</title><content type='html'>12 O'clock the music stops, she walked up to me, and took her shoes off.&lt;br /&gt;She said thats it, and I knew it, she said we can't dance, without music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those moments are surreal. Makes you feel like a vampire, very in control of the moment and the senses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to the city soon and the city always has that vampire-esk persona. I look forward to it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to stare into someone again. Someone different. Someone with a dark side. With magic in her eyes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-623477179076952512?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/623477179076952512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=623477179076952512' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/623477179076952512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/623477179076952512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/future-is-glowing-with-possibility.html' title='The future is glowing with possibility..'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-3874719185655790095</id><published>2007-10-24T09:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T07:54:03.721-08:00</updated><title type='text'>happiness</title><content type='html'>Behind and before me lay direction. The same, different, completely oppisite doesn't matter. Direction implies movement. An area of focus...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'd go back if I could. But I've been told it's because it's comfortable there. We are creatures of habit and the challenge of change, although exciting, becomes frightening when it's not just a thought but an action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the Declaration of Independance, Thomas Jefferson said that we all have the RIGHT to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." But did you ever notice the word pursuit? As if happiness is something we can only pursue and never attain. Sure at times we feel happy, but never completely content. We are always reaching for something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-3874719185655790095?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/3874719185655790095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=3874719185655790095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3874719185655790095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3874719185655790095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/pursuit-of-happiness.html' title='happiness'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-7249849650508391609</id><published>2007-10-23T08:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T08:53:17.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No Drama</title><content type='html'>Last Night I decided to avoid all drama, and just enjoy the evening. I saw thousands of people I knew (yeah right, stuart on Monday!) and watched football.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won a Huge bet, (1$) and I think I'll started playing the spreads with my genius predictions.. hehe Jag's suk...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forgot my camera last night, but it's better that way...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-7249849650508391609?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/7249849650508391609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=7249849650508391609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7249849650508391609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7249849650508391609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/no-drama.html' title='No Drama'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-8914620704788022189</id><published>2007-10-22T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T22:06:53.418-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Only Me</title><content type='html'>I'm becoming less defined, as days go by&lt;br /&gt;Fading away, well you might say I'm losing focus&lt;br /&gt;Kind of drifting into the abstract in terms of how I see myself&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I think I can see right through myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Less concerned, about fitting into the world&lt;br /&gt;Your world that is, cause it doesn't really matter anymore&lt;br /&gt;None of this really matters anymore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I am alone, but then again I always was&lt;br /&gt;As far back as I can tell, I think maybe it's because&lt;br /&gt;Because you were never really real to begin with&lt;br /&gt;I just made you up to hurt myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, and I just made you up to hurt myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it worked&lt;br /&gt;Yes it did!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no you, there is only me&lt;br /&gt;There is no fucking you, there is only me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the tiniest little dot caught my eye&lt;br /&gt;And it turned out to be a scab&lt;br /&gt;And I had this funny feeling&lt;br /&gt;Like I just knew it's something bad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just couldn't leave it alone&lt;br /&gt;I kept picking at that scab&lt;br /&gt;It was a doorway trying to seal itself shut&lt;br /&gt;But I climbed through&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm somewhere I am not supposed to be&lt;br /&gt;And I can see things I know I really shouldn't see&lt;br /&gt;And now I know why now, now I know why&lt;br /&gt;Things aren't as pretty on the inside&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no fucking you, there is only me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-8914620704788022189?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/8914620704788022189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=8914620704788022189' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8914620704788022189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8914620704788022189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/only-me.html' title='Only Me'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-1864859378587820018</id><published>2007-10-22T15:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T15:05:51.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Descendants of the wandering...</title><content type='html'>One time. One crime&lt;br /&gt;One thought to even recognize&lt;br /&gt;Not to realize my signs for you&lt;br /&gt;Not to die for you&lt;br /&gt;But it's all blown up&lt;br /&gt;So fuck off&lt;br /&gt;You know I tried&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are all descendants of the Wandering&lt;br /&gt;So don't be afraid&lt;br /&gt;It's just the remnants of my offerings&lt;br /&gt;And I, I won't be enslaved!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One sign. One line&lt;br /&gt;One time to disenfranchise&lt;br /&gt;All those people's ugly designs for you&lt;br /&gt;Not to cry for you&lt;br /&gt;It's all blown up&lt;br /&gt;So fuck off&lt;br /&gt;You know I tried&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-1864859378587820018?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/1864859378587820018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=1864859378587820018' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1864859378587820018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1864859378587820018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/descendants-of-wandering.html' title='Descendants of the wandering...'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-3083438965075496225</id><published>2007-10-22T10:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T10:14:51.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello World</title><content type='html'>Hi everyone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I transfered my blog to this new site its not evident how many readers I have... The more I forget about whos reading the more open I get... Crazy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But since this stupid shit has happened lately, I have received 13 emails from 13 different people wishing me luck and letting me know everyone gets a little drama every once in a while. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank all of you for your kind words... And some of you who were laughing... It's ok, I would to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning to a sun brighter than normal... I feel a world of possibility that I didn't yesterday... I'll be ok...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am 36 days into the 45 day max time from a transfer to Houston so soon I'll finnaly be gone. I'll miss you guys. Thanks for letting me know who my friends are...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-3083438965075496225?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/3083438965075496225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=3083438965075496225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3083438965075496225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3083438965075496225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/hello-world.html' title='Hello World'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2058260213188391885</id><published>2007-10-21T14:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T18:00:11.545-07:00</updated><title type='text'>81 days left</title><content type='html'>So I was looking through this blog... God it's all about Brandi. Am I a looser or what? I was think about deleteing it and starting over. Should I? Fuck... I really don't want to see this shit for the rest of my life. Brandi Brandi Brandi... I guess I'll keep it, and laugh at it in a few years...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's weird you know. When everything you plan for suddenly changes. I really don't know what to expect anymore. But one thing is for sure. My next girl will NOT be a cancer. Gemini or Pisces is what it's supposed to be anyway, I always knew that..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last night I had an idea. Celebacy. Not forever, but I was talking to these dumb drunk chicks last night who I think were hitting on me and I told them I was celebate for 90 days. That didn't seem to stop them, but it got me thinking. I think I am going to try it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So lets see.. Last time I had sex was on the 12th. So that means I have to go until January 12th. Damn thats a long time. But I was in Jail for 6 months and was fine. So 81 day left... Think I can do it? Probly not, but I will see...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2058260213188391885?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2058260213188391885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2058260213188391885' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2058260213188391885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2058260213188391885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/81-days-left.html' title='81 days left'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2705941149598731286</id><published>2007-10-20T17:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-20T18:05:01.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lies are natural?</title><content type='html'>I think I have figured out something today. Not like the key to life or anything but a very important ideal with regard to character, and relationships. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lies are the splinters that infect our culture. They are the manifestation of the disapproval we have for ourselves. We never lie about the things we are proud of. We only lie about the thing we feel horrible about so the one we lie to doesn't see our flawed soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when the lie comes out is also where our honor is tested. We become so scared that we have been discovered as dishonorable that we continue to dig deeper into our blackness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it hurts to be lied to. Hell I have lied so many times to so many people that I could never rebuild all my burnt bridges.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was lied to. In fact the person who lied to me has enough guilt for the things they do, that they have been transfering that guilt into accuations for me. I have assumed that there has been a miscommunication on my part to make sure myself was understood. I have been devoutly trying to be convincing of my truest feelings without success. Thankfully it wasn't me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I feel free. I know that I am not what I have been told I was. Lesser than everyone, a beautiful liar. Today I discovered I am just like everyone else. A judgemental carnivore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crossroads are before me. A change in my direction. An ability to unchain myself to a worthless dream. I thought it would hurt to let go. Maybe I'd mourn forever. Ahh I can see the future now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They gave me poison for food, and for my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink, It is finished.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2705941149598731286?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2705941149598731286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2705941149598731286' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2705941149598731286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2705941149598731286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/lies-are-natural.html' title='Lies are natural?'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-4963494590575015986</id><published>2007-10-19T07:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T07:08:03.652-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Morning</title><content type='html'>Good morning all... Whoever you are...&lt;br /&gt;Well I will let you know that my morning is divine. I watched a wonderful morning pick-me-up I saw on a freinds MySpace...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="366"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/phL0RLKL8bc&amp;rel=1&amp;border=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/phL0RLKL8bc&amp;rel=1&amp;border=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="366"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it would be a good idea to watch this regularly...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-4963494590575015986?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/4963494590575015986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=4963494590575015986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/4963494590575015986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/4963494590575015986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/good-morning.html' title='Good Morning'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-5718860129785297009</id><published>2007-10-18T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T09:58:03.714-07:00</updated><title type='text'>no title</title><content type='html'>Work ourselves, fingers to the bone, suck the morrow, drain my soul. Pay your dues, and your debts. Pay your respects, everybody tells you. You pay for what you get. Everybody asks me how she's doing has she really lost her mind? I said, I couldn't tell you I've lost mine. Words, words, words... Have you heard a bird in hand is much better than, any number free to wander fly away... Stay, you pay for what you get. Everybody asks me how she's doing since she went away I said I couldn't tell, but I'm okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-5718860129785297009?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/5718860129785297009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=5718860129785297009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5718860129785297009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5718860129785297009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/no-title.html' title='no title'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-6147678901581094607</id><published>2007-10-18T07:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T13:00:07.474-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love or Loss</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/Rxe7LslfE2I/AAAAAAAAACg/BzXDA72V_m4/s1600-h/jOEANDI.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122768910778569570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/Rxe7LslfE2I/AAAAAAAAACg/BzXDA72V_m4/s200/jOEANDI.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Between a rock and a hard place is the love or loss of her face. I don't know what to do. I can love and hate almost within the same feeling and moment for the same reasons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I am in love with a woman who is strong and weak, real and fake, beautiful and ugly, smart and ignorant, and she is my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;We have been through more good and bad times than I could write about, but looking back remembering all of them, I seem only to stop and think about the face of an angel. All the nights we went to bed mad and woke up the same. The violent agruments, the threats and lies. I remember only the chicken wings and how far I can see through her eyes. I remember that feeling that everything on earth is somehow moving forward perfectly. No matter what I go through, broke or rich, happy or sad, life or death I had someone who meant the world to me to share it with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I deal with a much more complicated issue. The Future...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am clinging to the beauty of our past and it may be the subject for my demise. The way we loved, it was magical. But now it's clouded with misunderstanding, deception, arms length passion, and a resentment as only the Devil has for God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong there is definately an undertone of the way we were, but she doesn't believe what I feel is true. I desereve that. My lies, filandering and secrets have warranted every bit of it. However I think she wants it to be true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem is our pride and ego. We are both intense within the Zodiac and trust our instincts. But our insticts are conflicting. I will dive in with all my heart, just in case there is a chance in hell. I do it just long enough to realize that I'll never get it back, so I give up. However the moment I give up she'll throw me into a moment of passion and magic. Still thinking I should be careful, I wear down at her belief that I am real with her. So she throws her towel in, just before I decide it could work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back and forth has been the last 28 months of our lives. I am torn between running as far as I can from her and moving completely beyond this time in my life, and putting in 100% until I know for sure. The ladder seems more "Notebook" and very romantic, but its very hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God grant me the destiny to love and be loved, and the understanding to know if it's her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-6147678901581094607?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/6147678901581094607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=6147678901581094607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/6147678901581094607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/6147678901581094607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/love-or-loss.html' title='Love or Loss'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/Rxe7LslfE2I/AAAAAAAAACg/BzXDA72V_m4/s72-c/jOEANDI.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-7792047406683845912</id><published>2007-10-12T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T09:24:51.161-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Appology</title><content type='html'>Today I betrayed a friend. I am so very sorry. Sometimes i can see right through myself. It isn't pleasant. I love beyond my rights, and hate even uglier. Kind of drifting to the abstract, in terms of how i see myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But doesn't law, moral law, prescribe a definitive responsibility for the conflict we involve ourselves in. Shouldn't disinformation and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;unresolve&lt;/span&gt; that bleeds on our hands require us to concede enough to at least dilute the tension it causes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does our current contention with our lives and our effort for reform permit allowance of quarrel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah to know the intimate thoughts of others. To be sure that we are wrong or if we've just been convinced. Is my blind love causing my uppercut or is it malicious. Do I care or is it jealousy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry for the passion of my revenge. I do not deserve it's power, I will not use it on you. I am crazy. Possibly clinically. I'm becoming less defined as days go by, living less concerned about fitting into the world. Your world that is...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-7792047406683845912?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/7792047406683845912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=7792047406683845912' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7792047406683845912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7792047406683845912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/my-appology.html' title='My Appology'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2161683814848146494</id><published>2007-10-11T06:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T06:33:33.806-07:00</updated><title type='text'>writing sux</title><content type='html'>I am not really interested in writing. I am a little depressed and seem to be secluding myself in myself a little more and more each day. I wonder if I'll make this blog private or stop writing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2161683814848146494?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2161683814848146494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2161683814848146494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2161683814848146494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2161683814848146494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/writing-sux.html' title='writing sux'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2495056833147316929</id><published>2007-10-11T06:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T06:30:36.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ready to leave</title><content type='html'>I can't believe I am still in florida! God it sucks here. Once I move I am able to stand on my own two feet and build a life for myself. But my probation officer isn't letting me leave just yet. Waiting on some stupid travel permit. God I can't wait till this is over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it here. The people suck, friends are two faced, enemies are worse, and the hard part is the difficulty in knowing the difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look forward to seeing my family and starting my job. Getting on my own feet and forgetting the mistakes that led me here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 weeks now i have been pushing to leave and I am still here. I fucking hate this place.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2495056833147316929?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2495056833147316929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2495056833147316929' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2495056833147316929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2495056833147316929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/ready-to-leave.html' title='Ready to leave'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-8756049934942310681</id><published>2007-10-06T05:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T05:25:23.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Part of me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://miwian.nl/images/psycho.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://miwian.nl/images/psycho.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There is crime in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;My intentions are not pure.&lt;br /&gt;A mask of black covers me.&lt;br /&gt;I must run before it kills you.&lt;br /&gt;I know your fate if I stay.&lt;br /&gt;It grows within me all day.&lt;br /&gt;We struggle for your survival.&lt;br /&gt;I must run before it kills you.&lt;br /&gt;A monster is becoming angry.&lt;br /&gt;My patience has become it enemy.&lt;br /&gt;He's growing stronger.&lt;br /&gt;I must run before I let it kill you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-8756049934942310681?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/8756049934942310681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=8756049934942310681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8756049934942310681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8756049934942310681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/part-of-me.html' title='Part of me...'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-5545576920573099627</id><published>2007-10-01T08:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T08:17:35.139-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dave matthews'/><title type='text'>I'll back you up</title><content type='html'>I remember thinking&lt;br /&gt;I'll go on forever only knowing&lt;br /&gt;I'll see you again&lt;br /&gt;But I know&lt;br /&gt;The touch of you isn't so hard to remember&lt;br /&gt;But like that touch I know no other&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for sure we have danced&lt;br /&gt;In the risk of each other&lt;br /&gt;Would you like to dance&lt;br /&gt;Around the world with me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be falling all about my own thing&lt;br /&gt;And I know your the heaviest weight&lt;br /&gt;When your not here that's hung&lt;br /&gt;Around my head&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember thinking&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes we walk&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes we run away&lt;br /&gt;But I know&lt;br /&gt;No matter how fast we are running&lt;br /&gt;Somehow we keep&lt;br /&gt;Somehow we keep up with each other&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And your lips burn wild&lt;br /&gt;Thrown from the face of a child&lt;br /&gt;And in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;The seeing of the greatest few&lt;br /&gt;Do what you will, always&lt;br /&gt;Walk where you like, your steps&lt;br /&gt;Do as you please, I'll back you up&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-5545576920573099627?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/5545576920573099627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=5545576920573099627' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5545576920573099627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5545576920573099627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/ill-back-you-up.html' title='I&apos;ll back you up'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-8030660605010670450</id><published>2007-10-01T06:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T06:31:41.951-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream (walking the isle)</title><content type='html'>She walks toward me&lt;br /&gt;the song playing is about this moment&lt;br /&gt;her dress is white with a line of blue across her breast&lt;br /&gt;she is giving herself to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her eyes were glowing&lt;br /&gt;her smile was real and i love her&lt;br /&gt;she gets close and puts her hand in mine&lt;br /&gt;we face our creator and ask to be married&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were alone &lt;br /&gt;the crowd was invisible&lt;br /&gt;the world stood still and watched&lt;br /&gt;Even the angels in heaven gave pause&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-8030660605010670450?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/8030660605010670450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=8030660605010670450' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8030660605010670450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8030660605010670450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/10/dream-walking-isle.html' title='Dream (walking the isle)'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-3596216261474126482</id><published>2007-09-30T17:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T17:26:37.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My New Blackberry</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.phonegg.com/BlackBerry/8100/BlackBerry-8100.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.phonegg.com/BlackBerry/8100/BlackBerry-8100.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well another step for man, and one giant leap for my tech junkie ass. I signed up with T-Mobile for 2 years and they gifted me a Blackberry 8100 Pearl. It's a beautiful phone and does absolutely everything!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can instant messege on AOL, MSN, Yahoo!, Blackberry IM and ICQ. (WTF is ICQ?) It can access email from anywhere and I CAN MYSPACE!!! Bluetooth compatible and oh yeah I have a flash on my Camera!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has video, pictures, ringtones, music and I just fucking love it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks T-Mobile....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupid blog to you I know, but I just cut my need to hop on and off my personal computer by 50%.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-3596216261474126482?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/3596216261474126482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=3596216261474126482' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3596216261474126482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3596216261474126482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/my-new-blackberry.html' title='My New Blackberry'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-3567774524187046337</id><published>2007-09-30T10:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T07:54:56.735-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-3567774524187046337?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/3567774524187046337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=3567774524187046337' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3567774524187046337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3567774524187046337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/another-weekend.html' title=''/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-3393224641351394766</id><published>2007-09-26T19:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T21:02:47.102-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cortez the Killer</title><content type='html'>Dave Matthews is a legend. But it's always good to see him recognize other people. Warren Haynes, another one of my alltime fav's does Niel Youngs "Cortez The Killer" with Dave live on stage in New York City. This is an amazing video, song and stage preformance. Trust me when I say this video is worth 10 minutes of your life. The solos are insane and the audio is perfect. I wish I could have been there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ITSUF7v2kJE"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ITSUF7v2kJE" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During one of the solos Dave looks back at his drummer, Carter Beauford, and says "It's bad" remarking about that insance guitar playing giving props to Warren Haynes. These guys are enjoying there instruments. Fuck the money these guys love the music...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-3393224641351394766?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/3393224641351394766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=3393224641351394766' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3393224641351394766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3393224641351394766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/gravedigger.html' title='Cortez the Killer'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-1785568022037469562</id><published>2007-09-26T12:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T12:50:27.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a thought</title><content type='html'>End your Friday at a swim up bar.&lt;br /&gt;At the last sip pour the ice all over you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-1785568022037469562?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/1785568022037469562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=1785568022037469562' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1785568022037469562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1785568022037469562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/just-thought.html' title='Just a thought'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-3001021546809997686</id><published>2007-09-26T07:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T08:03:01.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Adults Only</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i153.photobucket.com/albums/s235/revmyspace2/graphics/love/sexy-flirty/handcuffsButtSittinGreyCuadro.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i153.photobucket.com/albums/s235/revmyspace2/graphics/love/sexy-flirty/handcuffsButtSittinGreyCuadro.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Do you mind if I grab you? What if I don't let go? Would you smile at me?&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been tied to the wall like this? What does it do to your pulse?&lt;br /&gt;Is that too tight? Perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't even struggle when I choke you. Blindfolded, you can't see. Now your heart is speeding. Shhh... It's just a feather. How does it feel? Does it tickle?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you love the half second of burn just before the wax cools against your skin? It almost hurts, it's working isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You shouldn't breathe so hard, it's still early. I haven't eaten yet...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-3001021546809997686?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/3001021546809997686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=3001021546809997686' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3001021546809997686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3001021546809997686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/adults-only.html' title='Adults Only'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-423821081839453881</id><published>2007-09-25T07:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T07:57:53.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Soon to leave</title><content type='html'>I am down to the final hours before hitting the road (hopefully) to Houston, TX. I am very nervous and excited to get started. I will be traveling 1900 miles from Stuart and will attempt to do half of it in my sleep. No phone, just enough cash and gas and I'll be there in 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like I can finaly after 8 months start on me again. My boys, myself, me. "The Clements Boys!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking of all the things I'd miss here like the sand-bar (which i never seem to go to anymore), the food, the sights, I realize, I won't miss them at all. It's the times I had at those places. I have more good times. I will have them elsewhere. But the one thing I will miss, is my girl. I don't care whats in your head, I call her that. Get over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be thinking of you every second, until you come see me. I will walk with a pure heart and set dynamite to the mountainside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-423821081839453881?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/423821081839453881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=423821081839453881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/423821081839453881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/423821081839453881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/soon-to-leave.html' title='Soon to leave'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-3665195751360420152</id><published>2007-09-21T09:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T11:00:30.597-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love at First Sight</title><content type='html'>Poetry is so powerful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at Barnes and Noble the other day killing time, and sat and read through a few books. Tax literature, French phrases, Dr. Suess (of corse), and then I stumbled on the poetry section. I picked up a book called, "Immortal Poems of the 21st centry."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first poem I opened up to about half way through the book was, "Who Ever Loved, That Loved Not At First Sight."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;It lies not in our power to love or hate, For will in us is overruled by fate. When two are stripped, long ere the course begin, We wish that one should love, the other win; And one especially do we affect Of two gold ingots, like in each respect: The reason no man knows, let it suffice, What we behold is censured by our eyes. Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It's one of those poems that you get into the more you read it over and over again. not like it changes the world, but it meant enough that I wanted to keep it forever, and what better place than this blog?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-3665195751360420152?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/3665195751360420152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=3665195751360420152' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3665195751360420152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3665195751360420152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/love-at-first-sight.html' title='Love at First Sight'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-8211613018138114084</id><published>2007-09-20T21:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-21T08:58:03.478-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Opposite look at God</title><content type='html'>You're such an inspiration for the ways that I'll never ever choose to be&lt;br /&gt;Oh so many ways for me to show you how the savior has abandoned you&lt;br /&gt;F*ck your God, Your Lord and your Christ&lt;br /&gt;He did this took all you had and left you this way&lt;br /&gt;Still you pray, you never stray, never taste of the fruit&lt;br /&gt;You never thought to question why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not like you killed someone&lt;br /&gt;It's not like you drove a hateful spear into his side&lt;br /&gt;Praise the one who left you broken down and paralyzed&lt;br /&gt;He did it all for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh so many many ways for me to show you how your dogma has abandoned you&lt;br /&gt;Pray to your Christ, to your god&lt;br /&gt;Never taste of the fruit, never stray, never break&lt;br /&gt;Never---choke on a lie&lt;br /&gt;Even though he's the one who did this to you&lt;br /&gt;You never thought to question why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not like you killed someone&lt;br /&gt;It's Not like you drove a spiteful spear into his side&lt;br /&gt;Talk to Jesus Christ as if he knows the reasons why&lt;br /&gt;He did it all for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Judith&lt;br /&gt;by: Maynard Keenan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-8211613018138114084?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/8211613018138114084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=8211613018138114084' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8211613018138114084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8211613018138114084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/opposite-look-at-god.html' title='Opposite look at God'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-6435445507803864294</id><published>2007-09-20T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T20:35:01.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Revolution</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.danmillsart.com/images/Fantasy/Heads,%20I%20Win.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" height="247" alt="" src="http://www.danmillsart.com/images/Fantasy/Heads,%20I%20Win.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Today I was angry. Confused and betrayed. I became passionate, but to my credit, the rage was controlled. Revisiting this monster I challenged revolution within me. Standing outside myself I confronted the demon and crushed him like popsicle stick castles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's mission was to create division were there was none. Conflict from nothing and anguish over loss. This liar was caught before any curses haunted what I have rebuilt. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I grabbed her hand and stared at the angel he was hiding from me. We are waiting for you to come back, and we are ready.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-6435445507803864294?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/6435445507803864294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=6435445507803864294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/6435445507803864294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/6435445507803864294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/revolution.html' title='Revolution'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-4751417166765939351</id><published>2007-09-20T19:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T20:15:11.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tonights storm</title><content type='html'>Sedated tonight by the splash of waves&lt;br /&gt;Winds singing calm tunes in our ear&lt;br /&gt;Conversations of matter and slaves &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/RvMzkMlfE0I/AAAAAAAAACQ/RrOa8adizlk/s1600-h/brandi-face-blog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112486698942403394" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/RvMzkMlfE0I/AAAAAAAAACQ/RrOa8adizlk/s200/brandi-face-blog.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hands together walking on the peer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We notice each others stare&lt;br /&gt;“Baby, your eyes are blue.”&lt;br /&gt;I see how much you truly care&lt;br /&gt;You know that I’d die for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The past and the future, our favorite songs&lt;br /&gt;How we could’ve, would’ve and will love&lt;br /&gt;We go over all of our rights and wrongs&lt;br /&gt;And if we were designed from above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walk and we talk for hours on in&lt;br /&gt;You stop and you kiss me and stare&lt;br /&gt;Into my eyes it would be a sin&lt;br /&gt;For us to no longer be here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When will we make it, what should we do&lt;br /&gt;In the end you love me, and I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-4751417166765939351?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/4751417166765939351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=4751417166765939351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/4751417166765939351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/4751417166765939351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/tonights-storm.html' title='Tonights storm'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/RvMzkMlfE0I/AAAAAAAAACQ/RrOa8adizlk/s72-c/brandi-face-blog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-4313441605278938372</id><published>2007-09-20T10:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T12:14:06.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Human Error</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a295/rjscheller/shutem2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a295/rjscheller/shutem2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We are selfish people. All of us. We lie to get our way, we manipulate to set a desired direction. We blame it all on noble causes to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;convince&lt;/span&gt; ourselves we aren't like all the other people we judge. We should be ashamed to stand up for ourselves. Claiming a character of honor and living without it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have seen holes the the people I admire. I have found fault in the kings and queens of my life. So now what? Who can I look up to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This world is full of lies and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;deceit&lt;/span&gt;. Genocide. Slaying us all for the greater good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not me, and my friends. But us and ours. You too. I find nobility in no one. But I feel better about myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-4313441605278938372?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/4313441605278938372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=4313441605278938372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/4313441605278938372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/4313441605278938372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/admiration-of-humanity.html' title='Human Error'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2075682963203770731</id><published>2007-09-19T04:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-20T20:41:38.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Secrets</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/AdobeID390ASP72553.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/AdobeID390ASP72553.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Something that is kept hidden, or concealed. A secret. Invisible to protect the feelings of others, or to hide our intentions. An element of divisibility, which we all possess, a secret can maintain the integrity of American security or break your heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have and do hold many secrets, and many were and are held from me. Depeche Mode described it as the &lt;a href="http://www.depechemode.se/P/policyof.htm"&gt;policy of truth&lt;/a&gt;. Our secrets betray those who hold none from us, and our hearts are broken by what we are hidden from. But that's what the secrets were intended for, weren't they? To protect hearts and minds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have discovered that the secret to protect a heart is more damaging when revealed than before consealed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I really being honest with you? This blog is open for all to see and I am pretending to charade my truest self before you. Could I hold no secrets from this audience? Is anyone truly honest with me? How would they hold no secrets from myself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secrets - holding us together, tearing us apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the only worry is what secret to keep, and which lie to tell...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2075682963203770731?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2075682963203770731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2075682963203770731' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2075682963203770731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2075682963203770731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/secrets.html' title='Secrets'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-305600405644960779</id><published>2007-09-19T04:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T07:55:22.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-305600405644960779?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/305600405644960779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=305600405644960779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/305600405644960779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/305600405644960779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/19-paradise.html' title=''/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-6991624586256394172</id><published>2007-09-16T05:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-16T06:36:45.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Soul Mates</title><content type='html'>I saw this painting and immediately responded with a double take and some deep thought. This is a water color painting by Kathy Parks rightfully named "Soulmates." I think it describes it very well. The past and future tangled and as far as we are all concerned they are the only two trees in the whole world. Enjoy....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dreampowerartworks.com/KPpaintingimages/soulmates.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.dreampowerartworks.com/KPpaintingimages/soulmates.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-6991624586256394172?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/6991624586256394172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=6991624586256394172' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/6991624586256394172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/6991624586256394172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/love-of-my-life.html' title='Soul Mates'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-4690453751902086018</id><published>2007-09-15T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T06:53:19.399-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Split Decisions</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://static.flickr.com/143/325863035_3ed99a565c_o.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://static.flickr.com/143/325863035_3ed99a565c_o.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am watching two &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;squirrels&lt;/span&gt; play outside my bedroom window this morning. The sun is out with only a few summer clouds in the sky. It's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt;, which calls for a pool and a little rum. (Rum?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It'd be so nice to be as carefree as these two little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;squirrels&lt;/span&gt;. Dancing around, chasing each other up and down the trees, flipping and hopping. It seems they haven't a care in the world. I wish I could go about my day in such fashion. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am good at faking such an attitude of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;adolescent&lt;/span&gt; objectivity in my facade you all see, but inside it's much more troubling, more complex. A web of honesty and deceit. A labyrinth of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;responsibilities&lt;/span&gt; and requirements, caverns of lies and truths. A partition dividing my conscious into sane and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;incoherent&lt;/span&gt;, separating my good feelings into passion and revenge. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Behind the exterior, in all of us I believe, lies a morbid individual. A judgemental carnivore. Behind the smile, a damaging scowl. Opposite my confidence, there is a vulnerable child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You may have to dig a little to see it. My old friends all saw it, but I took a lot of acid back then and let the whole world see the truth. But we are much better than that now right? (Are we? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Who's&lt;/span&gt; we?) Over the last 8 years of 'growing up' I have learned to hide myself behind, well, myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And even the me behind myself loves these two little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;squirrels&lt;/span&gt; dancing in the front yard outside my bedroom window. I wonder if they are hiding anything...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-4690453751902086018?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/4690453751902086018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=4690453751902086018' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/4690453751902086018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/4690453751902086018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/split-decisions.html' title='Split Decisions'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-5727568147348513316</id><published>2007-09-14T07:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-14T07:15:39.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream (dave)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.cavalierdaily.com/.Archives/2004/09/06/hs-breakup.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.cavalierdaily.com/.Archives/2004/09/06/hs-breakup.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Last night's dream suct. I was sitting on a couch and she walks up and begins that conversation were you know she's stalling and talking randomly until she gets the confidence to continue. She was leaving me. Not an emotional woman this time but someone who was over it, and had moved on. So I confronted the question in my head. "You've met someone else?" "Yes, and Dave is a good person." Dave? Who the fuck is Dave... (Dave Matthews is in concert tonight) Hmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I tossed and turned until finally waking myself up to a time of 6:30 am. Stayed up since. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hate bad dreams. Especially the ones that go after your greatest fears. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-5727568147348513316?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/5727568147348513316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=5727568147348513316' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5727568147348513316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5727568147348513316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/dream-dave.html' title='Dream (dave)'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2934458803484862282</id><published>2007-09-13T06:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T06:34:11.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream (ex)</title><content type='html'>So I finally remembered my dream from the other night....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had just arrived in Houston and was seeing, my ex-wife of 4 years, Stephanie's parents for the first time since she commited suicide. (I was in Martin County Jail while this happened and still haven't been able to see them. )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I walked into a house, their house, or somewhere. I saw first her sister Stacey, who put her nose in the corner and complained that I hadn't said anything to them yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second I saw her father and he was very irritated with me as well. Wouldn't talk to me at all actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They haven't liked me since I divorced her. It seemed very cold and I was extremely nervous. An unforgiving spirit was around everyone and I felt it. Oddly enough my confidence was high and I was able to detach myself from the undertones of the moment. I wasn't concerned with anything emotional, but only paying my respect. Much like a characteristic of a sociopath... {Shut up}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weird dream for me, because this is a moment I could actually walk into when I arrive in Houston next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway wish me luck...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2934458803484862282?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2934458803484862282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2934458803484862282' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2934458803484862282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2934458803484862282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/dream.html' title='Dream (ex)'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-4516686528135099785</id><published>2007-09-11T22:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T22:35:02.624-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cancer &amp; Aquarius</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/Rud6JwqQjxI/AAAAAAAAABc/VoWSa8mXtHc/s1600-h/inf-can-aqua.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109186610374676242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/Rud6JwqQjxI/AAAAAAAAABc/VoWSa8mXtHc/s200/inf-can-aqua.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"The Infinity : Cancer &amp;amp; Aquarius"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bound in infinity, Cancer and Aquarius live protected from the outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drew it up to impress my girl...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now what about the two signs? How do they mingle?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When these two signs hook up, there will be sexual attraction and an endless curiosity about the other. Both signs will want to hit the party circuit and mingle together. Cancer is very attracted to outgoing and independent Aquarius.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aquarius sees passion and a relationship with this easy carefree sign known as Cancer. Together, they can build an intimate relationship that could make it to the altar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They key to making this relationship work is to know when to walk away for a moment. Do not play games with each other and that goes double for Aquarius.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-4516686528135099785?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/4516686528135099785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=4516686528135099785' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/4516686528135099785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/4516686528135099785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/cancer-aquarius.html' title='Cancer &amp; Aquarius'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/Rud6JwqQjxI/AAAAAAAAABc/VoWSa8mXtHc/s72-c/inf-can-aqua.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2666709608535081372</id><published>2007-09-10T19:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T13:36:52.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Revelation</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/IMG_0525.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/IMG_0525.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;An aquital for murder, and the man was released from jail. A third year law student aces the bar and the doors fly open. The one big client that sets you apart from the competition faxes over his commitment. A pinhole of sunlight in the eyes of a trapped miner. You know the feeling. Maybe not on such grandoise scales but you get it. That moment of accomplishment when all of your efforts align with the stars and you have your day. Betwixted inside the mountain of rumble I'm required to move, still, today was that day for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A song I had long since forgotten. A sound as if the angels in heaven were singing themselves rose from the Chili's parking lot in Jensen Beach today. The Red Sea parted, the sky opened up, the floodgates burst. God it was amazing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Staring into my future like scripture. A divinely inspired fact. I was hit. Right in the brain with the possibility that it all will be as is should. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Consider the mountains but vapor, and blow them away...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2666709608535081372?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2666709608535081372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2666709608535081372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2666709608535081372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2666709608535081372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/revelation.html' title='Revelation'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-442108763221857252</id><published>2007-09-10T11:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T07:55:54.858-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-442108763221857252?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/442108763221857252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=442108763221857252' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/442108763221857252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/442108763221857252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/is-she-not-amazing-i-have-nothing-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-1345820282500935696</id><published>2007-09-09T16:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T12:22:11.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I a Sociopath?</title><content type='html'>I was told, I could be a sociopath by someone who knows me. Were they playing some "your crazy" routine or engaging in a conversation of interest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/l_9ef5375741d2af62cd35cdbde7252e27.gif" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Several characteristics of the diagnoses would actually fit me. "Manipulative and Conning" "Need for Stimulation" "Criminal or Entrepreneurial Versatility" But after some &lt;a href="http://www.mcafee.cc/Bin/sb.html"&gt;personal research&lt;/a&gt; I found myself in conflict with some of the priority characteristics. Most importantly, an "Incapacity for Love" thing was troubling to me. Anyone who has any experience with me at all would have no convection less than an unprecedented capacity for love. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A sociopath sees his lovers as instruments and opportunities to manipulate and exploit, before ultimately turning them into his victims. I can imagine a number of my exgirlfriends would agree with the previous statement how ever I see it much differently. But even the diagnoses says I would see it all differently. Hmm... But I guess it would be an outside diagnoses and involving a reaction to my actions in life to be determined by an outside person other than me, so my understanding of my own conflicts is irrelevant. But for the record I disagree. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"A deep seated rage, which is split off and repressed, is at my supposed core. I do not see others around me as people, but only as targets and opportunities. Instead of friends, I have victims and accomplices who end up as victims. The end always justifies the means and I let nothing stand in my way." Does this sound like something I could say? Believably? God maybe I could. But victims? No for sure not me... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Shallow Emotions" is something I am also supposed to have a problem with. I mean come on, shallow emotions? My emotions are abyss-like I would venture to say and sometimes I am a little embarrassed about how emotional I can be. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't feel I am paranoid and I am sure there is no goal to enslave any of my victims. Although the thought does slightly turn me on but that's something totally different than sociopathy. Ropes and well, another time... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The profile of a sociopath also says that I am "Incapable of real human attachment to another." Incapable? Umm anyone ever heard the name Brandi? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I will concede on at least one simularity I have with the charateristics of a sociopath. A sociopath may state readily that their goal is to rule the world. I will openly say hidden it the caverns of my ulterior motives and underlying disinformation I may minutely harbor this as a deranged unphathomable highly unattainable goal. Aside from my opinian of achieving the goal itself, I do say it openly that I want to rule the world...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A sociopath is mainly identified by there being something very wrong with a person's conscious. They either 1) have a conscious with "holes" in it, 2)they don't seem to have one at all or 3) they are able to completely neutralize their sense of conscious into a perspective that they aren't doing anything wrong. One thing is for sure: Sociopaths only care about themselves and only see themselves as being "real" or truely human. Everybody and everything outside of themselves are twisted in their mind into mere objects to be used to achieve personal fulfillment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A sociopath often believes that they are doing nothing wrong or doing something greatly good, due to their egocentricity and grandiose sense of self-worth. They will cold-bloodedly take what they want and do as they please at any expense of anyone in their lives; predators who satisfy their lust for power and control through superficial charm, manipulation, intimidation, and violence.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There seems to be a difference between the made sociopath (one who's lived a life with a childhood that pushed them into the mind state of a sociopath) and the "true" sociopath (one who is born a sociopath.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Common Sociopath: simple lack of conscious.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alienated Sociopath: an inability to love or recieve love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aggressive Sociopath: a consistent saddistic streak.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dyssocial Sociopath: an ability to abide by GANG rules, as long as these rules are the WRING rules.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So am I a sociopath? Yes, No, Maybe so. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-1345820282500935696?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/1345820282500935696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=1345820282500935696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1345820282500935696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1345820282500935696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/profile-of-sociopath.html' title='Am I a Sociopath?'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-8157064504306406978</id><published>2007-09-07T19:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-07T20:05:51.724-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dave Matthews</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/RuILd8Qc6jI/AAAAAAAAAAc/BnClYApQxdM/s1600-h/9064_l.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107657536410806834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/RuILd8Qc6jI/AAAAAAAAAAc/BnClYApQxdM/s320/9064_l.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My Absolute Favorite!!!&lt;br /&gt;There isn't anyone who can jam to me like The Dave Matthews Band. For 13 years they have held the title, as far as I'm concerned. His collective groove undulating from the man and his friends, is a slight on this side of the Phish acid induced 45 minutes songs, but 13 minutes just the same, and he's got plenty of songs.&lt;br /&gt;I have dug them so long people tend to associate me with Dave. I let them. But sure enough, everytime I go somewhere, it's like the moment I walk through the door, dave on the radio. Pretty cool. I have let it work for me, but it's still rather ironic to me that it happens, seriously, everytime.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway enough tribute, look at the video. Phish's lead singer (my second favorite all time dude) Trey Anastasio is playing with Dave Matthews in a really great song, "Trouble."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/Trouble-lyrics-Dave-Matthews-Band-and-Dave-Matthews/ED6C178F4706E8E048256DAB0029FD7D"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/S4iRe3k4opc"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/S4iRe3k4opc" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-8157064504306406978?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/8157064504306406978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=8157064504306406978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8157064504306406978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8157064504306406978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/my-absolute-favorite-there-isnt-anyone.html' title='Dave Matthews'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/RuILd8Qc6jI/AAAAAAAAAAc/BnClYApQxdM/s72-c/9064_l.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-1785289761078841530</id><published>2007-09-07T13:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-07T13:35:41.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drivers Licence</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/RuG1HcQc6iI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Rp_1u9RRgI8/s1600-h/CIMG2719.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107562591863761442" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/RuG1HcQc6iI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Rp_1u9RRgI8/s320/CIMG2719.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Wow, I am a licenced driver now. I can drive, I can drive, I can drive... $1600 later I got a new picture. I didn't even have an ID, and haven't since the cops took it from me. God I hate cops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am on my way to go Drink and Drive, hopefully I will get too drunk and run a family of hadicaped children off into a ditch. Knock on wood... I have been good and haven't driven at all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good night...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-1785289761078841530?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/1785289761078841530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=1785289761078841530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1785289761078841530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/1785289761078841530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/drivers-licence.html' title='Drivers Licence'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/RuG1HcQc6iI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Rp_1u9RRgI8/s72-c/CIMG2719.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-7773805756840192189</id><published>2007-09-06T04:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-06T08:46:57.808-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Medical Marijuana</title><content type='html'>I have decided, that California is the place to be.  I just got out of jail for Marijuana and these guys are smoking legally? WTF&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uHWaU3FYPg4"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uHWaU3FYPg4" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So thats it. After all the 8th graders come back just before lunch from the nurses office, stoned out of their mind, and sit down to swallow the Pythagorean Therom while counting the minutes till they can soak there fangs into a cheeseburger. Maybe some fries, and a Hypotenoose is the square root of the added squares between the outsides 1 and 2. Sure, they'll have no problem. Do I support medical marijuana? Thats irrelevant, I don't support minor medical marijuana at school...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-7773805756840192189?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/7773805756840192189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=7773805756840192189' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7773805756840192189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7773805756840192189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-have-decided-that-california-is-place.html' title='Medical Marijuana'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-8174703167230925655</id><published>2007-09-06T02:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T20:51:16.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Living a lie...</title><content type='html'>I saw this video on Dave Navaro's site. I think its and member of his crew. Fucking awesome lyrics and music. A serious mix of NIN's Trent Reznors lyrics with the garage satan melt punk electronic background music. I liked it, see what you think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OGiAGzzCkgI"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OGiAGzzCkgI" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lyrics&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm living a lie&lt;br /&gt;And it's not the best thing for me&lt;br /&gt;But anyone and everyone is gonna hear another story&lt;br /&gt;I'm building a house&lt;br /&gt;Of murderous intention&lt;br /&gt;To keep it all from coming down&lt;br /&gt;I've gotta focus my attention&lt;br /&gt;'cause confidence is key&lt;br /&gt;When violating trust&lt;br /&gt;I'm making sure that I believe I'm doing what I must&lt;br /&gt;Which is attempting to kill&lt;br /&gt;The little boy inside&lt;br /&gt;But as hard as I try...&lt;br /&gt;The child will not die&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm burning alive, just like you&lt;br /&gt;I'm irrelevant&lt;br /&gt;And I'm living down in the shit&lt;br /&gt;I follow these pigs around&lt;br /&gt;But I never get used to it&lt;br /&gt;'cause they keep building and building&lt;br /&gt;Their feculant franchise&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could see this filth&lt;br /&gt;From someone else's eyes&lt;br /&gt;'cause ignorance was bliss&lt;br /&gt;But now I must adjust&lt;br /&gt;These animals, they operate&lt;br /&gt;On jealousy and lust&lt;br /&gt;I'm taking back what was lost&lt;br /&gt;And I will not be denied&lt;br /&gt;I'm crawling my way to the surface outside&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm burning alive, just like you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-8174703167230925655?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/8174703167230925655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=8174703167230925655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8174703167230925655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8174703167230925655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-saw-this-video-on-dave-navaros-site.html' title='Living a lie...'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-8628336032063427751</id><published>2007-09-04T17:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T19:33:29.691-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ideas...</title><content type='html'>We are told to remember the idea, not the man. Because man can fail. He can be caught. He can be killed or forgotten. But even hundred's of years later, an idea can still change the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/blast/showcase/submitted/images/gallery/idilko_unicorn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 136px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 124px" height="269" alt="" src="http://www.bbc.co.uk/blast/showcase/submitted/images/gallery/idilko_unicorn.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've witnessed firsthand the power of ideas. I've seen people who've killed in the name of them, and died defending them. But you cannot kiss an idea. You can not touch it, or hold it. Ideas do not bleed, they do not feel pain. They do not love. And it is not an idea that I miss, but a woman who told me I was alive. A woman that I will never forget.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-8628336032063427751?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/8628336032063427751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=8628336032063427751' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8628336032063427751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8628336032063427751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/man-and-his-ideas.html' title='Ideas...'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-5903121859793340672</id><published>2007-09-04T14:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T18:14:08.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Look at me!!!</title><content type='html'>I love your heart which sees the truth in me. I admire the way you know my lies. You know the rate from which my pulse beats. No mask would work as a disguise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can see you through the strength, you show the world and they believe, but I see a girl praying fiercely from her fragile little knees. Your words are trivial and nothing more. For it's the things you don't say...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://artfiles.art.com/images/-/Alfred-Gockel/Endless-Love-Print-C10080101.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 230px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 248px" height="202" alt="" src="http://artfiles.art.com/images/-/Alfred-Gockel/Endless-Love-Print-C10080101.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We stare into each others soul and the outside fades away. Somehow in it's company, the misery of yesterday. Embraced we loose our willingness to make it on our own, and laugh about that the lots of land; over which we've flown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow promises nothing more, except that it will come. We will be there in it's day I'm sure we'll have some fun. But in several tomorrow's I must leave, on a journey while your still here. My heart will crush again for sure, and my face will dew some tears. Our memories are etched forever, and that's exactly what I need. To remember who I'm fighting for and who's where I want to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-5903121859793340672?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/5903121859793340672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=5903121859793340672' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5903121859793340672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5903121859793340672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-love-your-heart-which-sees-truth-in.html' title='Look at me!!!'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2073169691613257265</id><published>2007-09-03T19:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T16:38:06.255-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes...</title><content type='html'>Have you a woman that you'd slide your thumb through the throat of a man for?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there a girl for whom you'd learn the swing and swagger onto the floor and tango? Could she spin and land just above your palms bent over beneath that, solo? Would she take your breath away like that on purpose?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can she look at you in the eyes and let you know exactly who you are? If she wished would you be what she wished for on a star?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there something in the two of you not a soul can understand? Are they jealous at it's mention and they're angered at your plans?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does 1000 miles crawling sound like a sunday morning cruise? Just to smell and write a song about the aroma of your muse?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2073169691613257265?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2073169691613257265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2073169691613257265' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2073169691613257265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2073169691613257265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/09/have-you-woman-that-youd-slide-your.html' title='Yes...'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-425007087259428307</id><published>2007-08-31T07:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-31T07:43:28.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sandpiper</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/CIMG2704.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/CIMG2704.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Do you have a special place you go to get away from everything? Maybe a secret waterfall, a beach, or like me, Sandpiper Resort. On Hutchinsen Island, in Stuart at the Indian River Plantation, there is a pool, jacuzzi and a bar on the beach. The pool is just beneathe the palm trees stocked full of coconuts and the jacuzzi sits right next to it. I love the tiki bar and hate the prices of their drinks, but I guess it's better than the tourist who have to pay to stay at the resort at over $279 per night, plus the expensive drinks. They have a small area next to the mangroves called "Hammock Point" where they have about 3 hammocks, the nice kind, and you can hear the waves while relaxing in the sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went there yesterday and spent the day after a sick buffet at the Baja Grill with a mamosa. We had a few drinks at the pool too, but not too many, and got a medium sunburn. Not too much sun though, for we have to save some for Sarasota this weekend. As we were getting wet in the pool, wouldn't you know it, Blair Root my old dancing nemesis, shows up with his girlfriend. Funny, I told him about this spot years ago and brought him a few times. Now it's his spot too I guess. Brandi and his girlfriend were wearing the same bathing suit. How weird is that? With all the places to buy bathing suits and all the suits every girl has for them both to wear the same one on the same day to the same place... Must be a very nice suit.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Sun drained us and we were asleep by 4:30 after a large cheese pizza from papa Johns.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I assure you that after this weekend there will be better stuff to write about and great pictures too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;See ya Monday....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewPicture&amp;friendID=126938729&amp;amp;albumId=1074193"&gt;See Pictures&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-425007087259428307?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/425007087259428307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=425007087259428307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/425007087259428307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/425007087259428307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/sandpiper.html' title='Sandpiper'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2290259131838880423</id><published>2007-08-29T08:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T10:03:54.657-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Putt-Putt</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/RtWbYcQc6hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/kBTGK2FkTwo/s1600-h/photo-brandi-we.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104156596898687506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/RtWbYcQc6hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/kBTGK2FkTwo/s320/photo-brandi-we.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Damn it's hot in Florida. Perfectly hot. I just love living here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do you ever eat hamburgers at restaurants? I don't I usually have steak, or seafood, or something a little more extravagant. However for lunch I went to Chili's and ordered a hamburger, and damn. I think the only one I have eaten in 5 year was from burger king or mickey d's. Stupid to write about hamburgers in a blog, I know, but this was a whole new experience for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went with this girl. God shes beautiful. Shes got me all wound up inside and I can't seem to get my mind off of her. Night or day. I was looking at someones myspace and saw an avatar that said "if you can't get someone out of your mind, maybe their supposed to be there." Any way we split the burger and found a little piece of heaven in it, then got a to go coke, and finished off a bottle of whiskey. The bottle my buddy bought me for getting out of jail. It was ok after 3-4 shots.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now what... So we decided to terrorize the 76 Golf world and play some putt-putt, which I won by 13 strokes. A little pin ball and some air hockey. I, by the way, kick serious ass at air hockey and won the best of 3 games, and then this little kid came by and whooped me, and said "how does it feel to get beat by a 9 year old?" Smart ass...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So not much happened, but I was with my best friend and some alcohol. Can't get much better...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewPicture&amp;friendID=126938729&amp;amp;albumId=1070837"&gt;See Pictures&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2290259131838880423?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2290259131838880423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2290259131838880423' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2290259131838880423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2290259131838880423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/putt-putt.html' title='Putt-Putt'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MzW_Fdo9Ck/RtWbYcQc6hI/AAAAAAAAAAM/kBTGK2FkTwo/s72-c/photo-brandi-we.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2006129300905419139</id><published>2007-08-28T10:46:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:47:12.351-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Morning...</title><content type='html'>No drinking last night. Not a drop. I feel better to. I have no idea what happened in town, and don't care. Hell, it was Monday, if you care, you need to slow down.  I took a nap and slept till 8pm and watched ugly betty on abc.com all night. Had a long conversation with my best friend and slept. AHHHHH....&lt;br /&gt;I heard I missed the Lunar Eclipse. I allways miss it, and don't find out til someone asks me if I saw it. WTF!&lt;br /&gt;Ok so I'm trying to get a rental for this weekend. I will make it happen. Sarasota it is. Sounds like a riot. Right on the beach with sugary white sand, and free liquor, food, and some great people. I appreciate the invite. Even if someone does need a ride.&lt;br /&gt;I am going to the gym. Ahhhh... I so need it. Get some blood moving around, burn some calories and get in shape.&lt;br /&gt;So Hogans son got into a car accident, Lindsey Lohan does 86 minutes in jail for cocaine, and Britneys cool again. Why is it we know all about this stuff and couldn't point out Idaho on a map.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway Blah blah blah blah, I can't believe your reading this boring ass shit. Later...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2006129300905419139?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2006129300905419139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2006129300905419139' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2006129300905419139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2006129300905419139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/good-morning.html' title='Good Morning...'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-5264849780034597185</id><published>2007-08-28T10:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T10:42:41.662-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to me...</title><content type='html'>I forgot, now I remember... If you need more than that you wouldn't understand anyway...&lt;br /&gt;A night of laughs and great music started at the park in Stuart. Chip, my buddy (who brought me a very select bottle of whiskey to celebrate my release from jail) came and brought me to a drum circle. Really. They do it every sunday and have been for 10 years. Where have I been? I borrowed a drum from a hippie named Denise and jammed a little while, but mostly listened. It was surreal and I wish I would have known about it for longer, I have gone every Sunday. My kind of people. Real mellow and positive. Love and peace and all that shit. &lt;a href="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/CIMG2637.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/CIMG2637.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jamie, Chip's Brandi, showed up and it was good to see her. Yes they are still together, congrats...&lt;br /&gt;We ventured off to Crawdaddies were I had some of the best seared tuna ever. But I sent it back because it wasn't rare enough. (what an asshole right, I mean how do you get raw fish more rare than raw) But they brought it back uncooked which made it very good. God I love raw fish...&lt;br /&gt;The Mojo Band was there and they were a little more jam band-esk, if you will, will long guitar solos and they had a new member they were trying out, and he was awesome. I will say that those guys are great whether your looking to get out and dance, or pay attention to the vibration of the scales in the guitar solos.&lt;br /&gt;Also tonight I did a little personal critisism. An honest dive into my responsibilities as a father, provider, human, and friend. I have a weakness for the blindfold of being in love. It has taken my attention off of whats important and consumed me for as long as I remember. I found magic in one moment and tried to stay inside that moment for the past 4 years like a drug addict chasing a dragon. I have no regrets, for I have experienced passion at its finest and some bonds that most of you will never understand, but in the mean time I have lost focus on my future. My children have suffered, my family and the one I thought it was all for. I confess that I saw it all happening as it was happening and still chased that dragon without pause to the obvious consequences and gave notice only to the moment. I traded family, friends, and any success I was able to achieve for one dose of her poison.&lt;br /&gt;I will not do it any longer. I will go to my kids and give them a future. Be there for my family and those who come along for the ride are welcome, those who can't thats ok too.&lt;br /&gt;I realized tonight why so many people are attracted to my energy and why so many are repelled by it. God give me the determination to stick with my current understanding and not focus on the past...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewPicture&amp;friendID=126938729&amp;amp;albumId=1066314"&gt;Click here for pictures of tonight...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-5264849780034597185?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/5264849780034597185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=5264849780034597185' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5264849780034597185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5264849780034597185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/back-to-me.html' title='Back to me...'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-6006053839672034506</id><published>2007-08-28T10:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:48:00.152-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dancing in The Streets</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/CIMG2620.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dancing in the Streets is over and we all had a great time. I suggest if you didn't go, then next time you should and if you did, why didn't you come say Hi...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met my buddy Sammy around 4 at the Ashley to get an early start. Which is crazy because I did the same thing the day before and drank till 2am. How I had the energy or the balls to start drinking that early I don't know. Guiness is such a good beer. Dark and tasty. It was raining and I was worried they may shut everything down, but it cleared up and the party got underway. We read horoscopes to everyone at the bar like nerds and I met one of the guys I was in jail with. I think his name was Chris, we played chess, I kicked his ass. He works at the Ashley now... My two favorite bartenders were there, Denise and Boston. They always take care of me and haven't found a way to kill me yet. When no one is at the bar yet, they are the party. I love you guys, now that you know how to MySpace... Boston has to have his daughter show him how... Old Fuck... A magician came by and spent 20 minutes blowing my mind and taking my money like it was a trick. Not that funny..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/CIMG2585.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/CIMG2597.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/CIMG2586.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;So Brandi, Paige and her friend from Ohio came to the Ashey and did some huge pulls on the bottle themselves. Paige looked fabulous as always, and girl It was good to see you. I miss the ol' days when you lived here. Your a joy to be around, and thank you. (you know what I mean)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wouldn't you know, as the day became evening and the egos were growing the Mojo Band walks in. WHAT!! Are you kidding me, this is great. I love this band. I'm not really into the music but the guy can draw everyone onto the dance floor and make sure we all have good times. And boy did he do it. We danced until we were dripping in sweat. Greg, the singer, got Paige and Brandi up on stage for a little ass shaking. These girls wrote the book on it to. They kept thinking they were done until the crowd and I were like NOOOOOOO! Afterwards they got me up on stage and then it was over, I was dancing nonstop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/CIMG2600.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/CIMG2602.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/CIMG2607.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/CIMG2609.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/CIMG2617.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;JC and Christine show up later. My dog whos going to record some music with me, and we partied a little. Cool guy... Damn it Jim, he keeps saying...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Paige and Brandi and JC and Sammy and Rhonda and blah blah blah, I went to the Stuart Ale House. I call it old faithful. Easy to have a good time there, and wouldn't you know I find Bonnie. I haven't seen her in like 9 years I think. You know those people you are close to and somehow they just drop off the planet and when you see them again all grown up and shit, your like EEEEEEEEEEEE WOW, OMG It's U.... Well I was like that and I'm drunk at this time so, come to think of it, I sure hope I didn't make a fool of myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/CIMG2627.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stumbled in the door about 2:30 after a Crunch Wrap Supreme, and Quesadilla from Taco Bell. Yumm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It went from 'Raining in The Streets' to 'Dancing in The Streets' to 'Stumbling in The Streets.' Which means a job well done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to detox today, hopefully... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewPicture&amp;friendID=126938729&amp;amp;albumId=1064399"&gt;Click here to see all 30 pictures&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-6006053839672034506?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/6006053839672034506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=6006053839672034506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/6006053839672034506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/6006053839672034506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/dancing-in-streets-is-over-and-we-all.html' title='Dancing in The Streets'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-4551185155452291580</id><published>2007-08-28T10:43:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:48:25.679-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stuart Ale House</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/sille.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stuart Ale House, again, I know I know... But Dj Ron made Dave Matthews Day for a little while and we jammed. About 6 of us were singing at the top of our lungs to a 15 minute live version of warehouse. Surreal and very florida. Outside on the porch good people, the best music and cold beer. Miller Lite... I met JC, a musician who has excellent recording capabilities, and I told him about a song I had written. I have all the words and chords and I'd like to sing it. He's been a music pro for over 10 years and said he could add a solo and a beat and we burn it to disc. "Are you kidding me?" I have held this song so close and it means so much to me and now it's going to be a final piece? I can't wait. So we are meeting on Sunday to begin the production of "Wave your hand." I will upload it as soon as it's done to my page and maybe even some drafts. You think it'll help me get the girl? Let's drink on it!! Yeager bombs, make it 2. Damn $14. Yeah happy hour gets you ordering like crazy and then it's over and what do you do? Slow down? Yeah right.I saw a new mother, Shannon, who just got my out of the house. She named her kid Marley, which is obviously named after ol' Bob, and it's a girl. Sounds like a little heartbreaker. Good luck Shannon... She was out with all of her friends, and they were all having a good time except for one shy girl. Couldn't get her to cheer up, even me! Weird so we went back to discussing the mechanics of the new Dave Matthews album. More interesting.Oh shit this is funny. I was walking aroung taking random shots (pictures - haha) and I found a couple and asked if I could take their picture. After the flash I said, "you've been MySpace'd." Their eyes got as wide as the east id from the west and asked me to delete it. So i did, NOT. But what I did do is dig into WTF was going on. We've all had our share of MySpace explosions and I couldn't wait to hear this one. They seemed to clam up and decide to just end the conversation. I ordered a drink (number 10) and they walked out. Hmmm... I did find out her boyfriend was in jail... Naughty Naughty... So I posted it... It's a small ass town and everyone know everyone see we'll see what happens...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewPicture&amp;friendID=126938729&amp;amp;albumId=1062768"&gt;Click here for the pictures&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dancing in the streets is tonight, and I feel it's my obligation to be there. I can't wait to see what kind of pictures I get there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-4551185155452291580?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/4551185155452291580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=4551185155452291580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/4551185155452291580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/4551185155452291580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/stuart-ale-house-again-i-know-i-know.html' title='Stuart Ale House'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-3588693041161258845</id><published>2007-08-28T10:43:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:43:30.184-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Live today</title><content type='html'>As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You'll fight with your best friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old one did. You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back. Don't be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-3588693041161258845?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/3588693041161258845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=3588693041161258845' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3588693041161258845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/3588693041161258845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/live-today.html' title='Live today'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2429877629089950334</id><published>2007-08-28T10:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:43:16.217-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Choices</title><content type='html'>We've become addicted in life to happy endings, closure. But life isn't about the understanding of our fate, but learning to deal with not knowing it. The only thing certain in life is the uncertain outcome of our choices. We expect a destiny that models alike to our hopes and dreams. Maybe we should model our hopes and dreams around life as it unfolds. Taking solitude in knowing that if our lives are headed somewhere unknown, then our goals may also change to what we haven't a glimpse of today. And when we see these changes, the foretold crossroads, shouldn't we unrobe ourselves from the pressure of what we'd been praying for, and simply pray for something else.&lt;br /&gt;Giving up isn't allways throwing in the towel. Sometimes it's a refocus. A nessessary shift of energy to a new day, an unwritten future. Sometmes it is giving up. I don't think we'll know untill one day we look back and see if we'd have done it differently.&lt;br /&gt;We can only hope to follow our hearts in this journey to death. Not money, success, power or anything we have to leave behind. I hope we all make it the right choices...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2429877629089950334?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2429877629089950334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2429877629089950334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2429877629089950334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2429877629089950334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/choices.html' title='Choices'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-8481870853492704679</id><published>2007-08-28T10:42:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:42:59.461-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drugs</title><content type='html'>Today a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration, that we are all one consceincness experiencing itself subjectively, there is no such thing as death, life is just a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-8481870853492704679?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/8481870853492704679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=8481870853492704679' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8481870853492704679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8481870853492704679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/drugs.html' title='Drugs'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-7981519596887970133</id><published>2007-08-28T10:42:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T06:17:56.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mirrors</title><content type='html'>Do you share the mirror with someone? Do you stare at yourselves and notice the wrinkles and the eyelashes? Laughing at making strange faces, odd frowns and lop-sided smiles.&lt;br /&gt;One day fifty years from now, staring in a mirror with the same person, making the same faces, only seeing a face battered by the years. Wrinkles lined the eyes and eyebrows standing tall.&lt;br /&gt;The best thing about the mirror you share now, and the one you'll share in fifty years, are all the ones in between and having your best friend remember the wrinkles you didn't have the first time you shared a mirror.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-7981519596887970133?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/7981519596887970133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=7981519596887970133' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7981519596887970133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7981519596887970133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/mirrors.html' title='Mirrors'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-5398660129516471356</id><published>2007-08-28T10:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:42:26.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Absolutely Nothing</title><content type='html'>Well I can't think of anything thing to say today. My mind cluttered with to many things to write about, thing I can and can't write about, things I do and don't, shouldn't and won't.&lt;br /&gt;So I'll just say that I love MySpace. I am bored and instead of watching TV, because right now I can't, I watched MySpaceTV which happened to rock. I saw a live concert today with 'My Chemical Romance', 'Linkin Park', Taking Back Sunday', and 'Placebo'. Most of the bands suct live, which is what I've come to experience in most of the concerts I've been to, but My Chemical Romance was ok. But the fact that I was watching it live and streaming to my PC was very cool, considering my first experience with a computer was on a Commadore 64, 1986 version, playing with that tarzan type guy who swings on vines over alligator pits. The whole technology age is not only upon us but consuming us, and I'm loving it.&lt;br /&gt;Of course I am having trouble installing a simple fucking program into my media player and it's stopping me fom watching my favorite shows on ABC. Crazy huh. The huge revolution of streaming videos and live rock shows, and I can get a fucking install to work. I should probly call my 8 year old and ask him for help.&lt;br /&gt;Well for those of you reading, thanks for giving a shit, and for those who aren't, well it doesn't matter you not reading anyway.&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight Blue...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-5398660129516471356?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/5398660129516471356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=5398660129516471356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5398660129516471356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5398660129516471356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/absolutely-nothing.html' title='Absolutely Nothing'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-6361078161680907534</id><published>2007-08-28T10:41:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:42:01.044-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Little House in the Moment</title><content type='html'>Has your heart ever skipped a beat...? Have you ever been so consumed by one second that you could just stop time and stay. You knew everything was as it should be, more than it could be and nothing could take it away. It happened to once to a man named Joe and a girl named She&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sucked himself inside that beautiful moment and stayed. He built a home in it with a bedroom and a stove. He became so comfortable in that little house that he forgot to look forward or rewind. He built a swing between two trees and vowed to never leave it behind. After a while Joe stopped paying attention anyone or anything that didn't live inside that little house with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day a knock on the door and Joe looked out the door that he had untied, he saw a whole world and walked outside. He saw all kinds of new things and old ones he saw to, forward and behind things till his face was blue. Joe walked so far that when he turned, the little house was gone. Had he really gone that far, what turn did he take wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He tried and tried night after night, to find that little house, looking everywhere, new high and low, and couldn't seem to find that precious little home any more. So Joe built a new house that looked quite the same, built out of the same bricks, even a little stove and a bedroom. No matter what he did those houses weren't the same.&lt;br /&gt;One day exhausted and tired, everything came into view and that one perfect little house showed itself, with that swing hung between the trees, and the little bedroom with a stove. He ran with vigor to his dream and touched his swing, ran into the house and closed the door behind him and smiled. At last he was home. But in that little house he was home in alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Joe had left for a walk that while ago, She went to look for him and got lost on her own. She struggled to find him, screaming his name, but no where was Joe when it started to rain. She started building new houses, bedrooms and stoves a little drawer to place her clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joe sat for a while in the little house that was everything he had once dreamed. But it became dark and lonely. Once again the door knocked, he open the door and saw the world again, it was time to go. The world offered hope to find someone new, new moments, houses with new swings too. He hung a little sign on the door and closed it for good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "I know the things this world has, don't offer them to me. I sit behind this door alas, alone I'll wait for She"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-6361078161680907534?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/6361078161680907534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=6361078161680907534' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/6361078161680907534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/6361078161680907534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/little-house-in-moment.html' title='The Little House in the Moment'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-279225440632395488</id><published>2007-08-28T10:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:41:36.557-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Your thinking sex, right? Thinks again...</title><content type='html'>Today I met someone who gives me breath. Her eyes are as bottomless as seven oceans. She can see me even when I hide behind walls. She knows my next words and can scent like Christmas morning. She awakens a blaze in me that I hadn't known. She's forgiving and sweet, and her face. Oh God shes beautiful.She took my hand and kissed my skin, stared into my cold eyes and wiped away my tears. Her hand on my heart, and head on my chest. I scream my honor to the heavens just as her lips barely felt mine. We kissed without touching our lips, our breath so close and my pulse matched hers. She stared into me all the way down to my soul. I let her. She let me. Do other people feel this way?My hands felt the smoothest skin, from her toes, to her ankles, the top of her head and her nose, I'm blown away. She felt the tips of my fingers just before they touched the small of her back up to her neck. We slept.One finger sliding down my nose to open my eyes. I open them into hers. I will never forget this moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-279225440632395488?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/279225440632395488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=279225440632395488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/279225440632395488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/279225440632395488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/your-thinking-sex-right-thinks-again.html' title='Your thinking sex, right? Thinks again...'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-621983687123009932</id><published>2007-08-28T10:40:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:41:11.554-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If you could only see...</title><content type='html'>So, I learned something last night. Not that it was taught to me but on one of those moments that just seems to make everything 'click' and come together&lt;br /&gt;"How we feel is only important to ourselves. But what we do is important to everyone else."&lt;br /&gt;We can explain ourselves, our love and hate in extraordinary ways. Our words formed with magical precision and even in seductive syllables. The depth of our feelings described as if they consume our lives, but ideas are different than blueprints, and even further from the house.&lt;br /&gt;Ever been told your loved by someone and couldn't believe them? Why? You ever scream hate and misery on someone and never act on it? Worthless…&lt;br /&gt;Our feelings are only seen and believed and agreed with when something is done.&lt;br /&gt;She loves him and scribes a painting, he loves her and sings her a song, or maybe a SHMILY behind the mirror where she hides her toothbrush. Hate with a punch. Priceless…&lt;br /&gt;To many times do we fight over our feelings. Try to re-explain what everyone 'should' know, while we sit idlely by at expect them to remember..&lt;br /&gt;Today, tomorrow, and everyday, do something. I think it could change the world…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-621983687123009932?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/621983687123009932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=621983687123009932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/621983687123009932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/621983687123009932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/if-you-could-only-see.html' title='If you could only see...'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-8667686721980958440</id><published>2007-08-28T10:40:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-09T19:30:35.582-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nightmares</title><content type='html'>A moment stretched into a thousand years; the unholy silence screams at me; I grabbed the edge of my pillow with my teeth and prayed for death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pictures burned to my memories are forced upon me; it's torture to see; I opened my eyes and marked another day down. Only 100 more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth was stolen from me from those to selfish to let me go; it will never come out now; I threw some water in my face to wash it off. Didn't help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lies were given as revenge and taken in exchange for my blood; this is permanent and you'll never recover; I read a chapter and then another and never saw the words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Devil embraced the silence singing the revenge I'd find; you'll be there when they fall; I ate a left over orange and brushed my teeth. Now what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You stole from me and I hate you for it; I'll crush you with my hands until you admit it; I laid down again and stared and the flickering light. I'm so tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The screaming gets so loud from the thousands of little voices; they're laughing at you; I woke up and knew I was dreaming the whole time. 99 days to go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-8667686721980958440?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/8667686721980958440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=8667686721980958440' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8667686721980958440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8667686721980958440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/nightmares.html' title='Nightmares'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-5430973579967042383</id><published>2007-08-28T10:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:40:34.989-07:00</updated><title type='text'>91 views today</title><content type='html'>Well I guess I have readers. 91 today so since your all listening.....&lt;br /&gt;A long conversation with a friend, a good one (thank you Sammy) I have had for 10+ years, I received some important advice. Some sanity in my life is priority. So I am going take it.&lt;br /&gt;"Sever all ties or it will never end"&lt;br /&gt;I will never be forgiven for the things I did (and didn't) do, the blood is in the water and it isn't safe to drink. So I'm going to get a new bottle of water. A fresh unopened bottle. (WOW that actually is what I need, my head hurts) And what happened to hating me. I think it's smarter to do that anyway. Feelings leftover are damaging to everyone and unproductive for my future, which by the way will make fucking history..&lt;br /&gt;I have a fresh start, but already it's feeling like my last fresh start. This may piss some people off, hurt some people and they may feel betrayed and angry. But I have to focus on me.&lt;br /&gt;There seems to be a constant flow of misinformation from "friends" so it's time to evaluate who they are. I'm leaving anyway so pretend that I'm gone. Talk as much as you like, good/bad, shit sing songs of distaster or morbid relationships but I will not be involved.&lt;br /&gt;For peace, and sanity, (mine - most importantly and selfishly) allow this to happen smoothly...&lt;br /&gt;So without further stalling the enevitable.... Goodbye, Good Luck and may God be with you...&lt;br /&gt; Do headaches really last this long, damn it's painful.&lt;br /&gt;So I am back. I had a great night with absolute drama free people. Saw Boston up at the Ashley, he's jumping on the blog. So props on the drinks.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I better figure out some important shit to say, but my headache isn't letting me access my brain...&lt;br /&gt;New MySpace Ad Slogan :&lt;br /&gt;"MySpace - Ruining lives since 1988"&lt;br /&gt;Clink link to see picture of last night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/Collage.jpg"&gt;http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/Collage.jpg&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-5430973579967042383?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/5430973579967042383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=5430973579967042383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5430973579967042383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5430973579967042383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/91-views-today.html' title='91 views today'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-5232055975600446737</id><published>2007-08-28T10:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T08:05:51.194-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I feel good today</title><content type='html'>"The future is no place to place you better days" Dave Matthews&lt;br /&gt;"I've been drifting, for years it seems" Trey Anastasio&lt;br /&gt;Damn I didn't remember how good music was. bam bam bing da ding ding.&lt;br /&gt;YEEE-HAW!!!&lt;br /&gt;Well I haven't made a fool of myself in a while. It's time to get jiggy with it. (are people still saying that?)&lt;br /&gt;No poetry or rediculous thoughts even I don't understand, no not tonight, just some pure smiles and a twist of lme.&lt;br /&gt;I love blogging. Is anyone reading this. Hi Mom....&lt;br /&gt;One more song and I'll go... Maybe some Phish... Yeah for sure...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-5232055975600446737?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/5232055975600446737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=5232055975600446737' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5232055975600446737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5232055975600446737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-feel-good-today.html' title='I feel good today'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-7560194766713125239</id><published>2007-08-28T10:38:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:39:24.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Craziest shit I ever saw...</title><content type='html'>So you want to see the craziest shit in the whole world? I mean seriously. You want a fucking nightmare? Try sticking up for yourself after some shit like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/l_558706e614820413d84322de18650cd6.jpg"&gt;http://i163.photobucket.com/albums/t293/jmfc/l_558706e614820413d84322de18650cd6.jpg&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-7560194766713125239?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/7560194766713125239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=7560194766713125239' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7560194766713125239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7560194766713125239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/craziest-shit-i-ever-saw.html' title='Craziest shit I ever saw...'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-6613010066418831352</id><published>2007-08-28T10:38:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:38:51.818-07:00</updated><title type='text'>3 days later</title><content type='html'>This shit is weird out here. It's wasn't supposed to be this hard. I mean I'm free now. I can run and scream, or point and click. Something was missing and now it isn't and still something is missing. Those moments when you feel alive. A world that notices. A purpose. Where the fuck are they?&lt;br /&gt;It all kept momentum while it stopped for me. I'm so far behind now. My debt is paid, aaaaaahhhhhhhhh....&lt;br /&gt;What a pussy, right? Shit get over it. I thought it was uncomplicated, or was it just something to write. Can you fake it for another day or two. Make the next move, use the queen... Everyones scared of the queen. They will not watch the other peices.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-6613010066418831352?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/6613010066418831352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=6613010066418831352' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/6613010066418831352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/6613010066418831352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/3-days-later.html' title='3 days later'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-4124178211153065285</id><published>2007-08-28T10:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:38:27.829-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Steps</title><content type='html'>Beginnings are uncomplicated, nothing to loose, I know what I have, my bags and my shoes.  Same earth as last time same consequences for the same choices. No more nightmares in my head making noises.&lt;br /&gt;The next step is important and it's planned and precise. But I'm having trouble making it one last demon isn't being very nice.  One time again angels sound in my ear singing their songs. They sing of right now and forgive me of my wrongs. I sure hope I'm right...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-4124178211153065285?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/4124178211153065285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=4124178211153065285' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/4124178211153065285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/4124178211153065285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/baby-steps.html' title='Baby Steps'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-7067603848083495035</id><published>2007-08-28T10:37:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:38:12.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cry Freedom Cry!!!</title><content type='html'>Over 180 days writing and reading. Studying the reward of my risks. I have concluded one thing. I've been fighting gravity since I was 2 and still I require balance to stand.&lt;br /&gt;Over 6 months I have figured out many things and they were all wrong.&lt;br /&gt;I have pushed every soul away who's ever cared. Drawn in those who could care less and made enemies with the greatest people I've known.&lt;br /&gt;Silence in these past moments have taught me the we are all in this world together. If we choose to ignore it, we will be ignored.&lt;br /&gt;As I stare at the stars for the first time in centries I find a new me. The old me. I'll passionately progress, and ingnore concete, I will deny the perversion of the moment and extend my focus to the future. Our Future. As man. As one being together realizing we are all one.&lt;br /&gt;My sincere appologies are given to my enemies. My friends, and family.&lt;br /&gt;I will now move forward in the favor I was promised 2007 years ago.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-7067603848083495035?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/7067603848083495035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=7067603848083495035' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7067603848083495035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7067603848083495035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/cry-freedom-cry.html' title='Cry Freedom Cry!!!'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-5850832691988998107</id><published>2007-08-28T10:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:37:50.237-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beat Box</title><content type='html'>Oh no- here comes that sun again. And (that) means another day without you my friend. And it hurts me to look into the mirror at myself. And it hurts even more to have to be with somebody else. And it's so hard to do and so easy to say. But sometimes - sometimes, you just have to walk away - walk away. With so many people to love in my life, why do I worry about one? But you put the happy in my ness, you put the good times into my fun. And it's so hard to do and so easy to say. But sometimes - sometimes, you just have to walk away - walk away and head for the door. We've tried the goodbye so many days. We walk in the same direction so that we could never stray. They say if you love somebody than you have got to set them free, but I would rather be locked to you than live in this pain and misery. They say time will make all this go away, but it's time that has taken my tomorrows and turned them into yesterdays. And once again that rising sun is droppin' on down And once again, you my friend, are nowhere to be found. And it's so hard to do and so easy to say. But sometimes, sometimes you just have to walk away&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-5850832691988998107?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/5850832691988998107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=5850832691988998107' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5850832691988998107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/5850832691988998107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/beat-box.html' title='Beat Box'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-7497034946831730754</id><published>2007-08-28T10:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:37:20.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wave Your Hand (A song for her)</title><content type='html'>(verse 1)&lt;br /&gt;C                                                                             G&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I feel that my old friend is still here&lt;br /&gt;Am                                                                          Fm&lt;br /&gt;Walking with me through the pain&lt;br /&gt;C                                                                             G&lt;br /&gt;Speaking, looking, knowing my demons are real&lt;br /&gt;D            Fm          &lt;br /&gt;But you aren't there.&lt;br /&gt;(chorus)&lt;br /&gt;C                                         G                                                     A                                        &lt;br /&gt;Did I push you away, did I make you go and run from&lt;br /&gt;Fm&lt;br /&gt;me&lt;br /&gt;C                 G        A         Fm&lt;br /&gt;I - - - - Feel you near me.&lt;br /&gt;Fn                                                       C                                                         G                &lt;br /&gt;I hope that you want me, enough to make it go&lt;br /&gt;C                                                                             G                                     A&lt;br /&gt;Just wave your little magic hand in the air and make it&lt;br /&gt;Fm&lt;br /&gt;all so…x2&lt;br /&gt;(verse 2)&lt;br /&gt;C                                                                             G&lt;br /&gt;I will live my life, and deal that you are gone&lt;br /&gt;Am                                                                          Fm&lt;br /&gt;I guess it doesn't matter this time, who's wrong&lt;br /&gt;C                                                                             G&lt;br /&gt;Times ups, I can't do it, I need you to go on..&lt;br /&gt;D            Fm          &lt;br /&gt;But you aren't here.&lt;br /&gt;(verse 3)&lt;br /&gt;C                                                                             G&lt;br /&gt;Things that got us here I can't help but feel it's a plan&lt;br /&gt;Am                                                                          Fm&lt;br /&gt;Like some one up above is testing and making me a man&lt;br /&gt;C                                                                             G&lt;br /&gt;If that's true I hope I pass through to a place where I'm unaware&lt;br /&gt;D            Fm           G&lt;br /&gt;That you aren't there.&lt;br /&gt; (Bridge)&lt;br /&gt;D                                                                             G&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I will ran off to the places that I've dreamed of&lt;br /&gt;D                                                                             G&lt;br /&gt;Only time can heal the misery&lt;br /&gt;D                                                                             G&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I will kneel before the lord and make amends&lt;br /&gt;D                                                                            &lt;br /&gt;I hope the both of you for-give me&lt;br /&gt;(chorus ending)&lt;br /&gt;C                                         G                                                     A                                         Fm&lt;br /&gt;If I pushed you away, and I made you go and run from me&lt;br /&gt;C                 G                          A                            Fm&lt;br /&gt;I - - - - Felt like you were still near me.&lt;br /&gt;Fm                                                                           C                                                   G  &lt;br /&gt;I hope that if you ever want me, enough to make it go&lt;br /&gt;C                                                                             G                                     A                &lt;br /&gt;Just wave your little magic hand in the air and make it all Fm&lt;br /&gt;so…x2&lt;br /&gt;C                                                                             G                                     A                &lt;br /&gt;Just wave your little magic hand in the air and say "come&lt;br /&gt;              Fm&lt;br /&gt;here Joe!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-7497034946831730754?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/7497034946831730754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=7497034946831730754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7497034946831730754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/7497034946831730754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/wave-your-hand-song-for-her.html' title='Wave Your Hand (A song for her)'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2832857894990875979</id><published>2007-08-28T10:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:36:40.464-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Without</title><content type='html'>What is Monawithout Lisa&lt;br /&gt;or hamwithout cheese&lt;br /&gt;What is appreciation without thank you&lt;br /&gt;or politeness without please&lt;br /&gt;Can fish live without water&lt;br /&gt;or a flower without rain&lt;br /&gt;Can Romeo live without Juliet&lt;br /&gt;or Tarzan without Jane&lt;br /&gt;What is popcorn without butter&lt;br /&gt;or cereal without milk&lt;br /&gt;What is rough without sandpaper&lt;br /&gt;or smooth without silk&lt;br /&gt;Is there Robin without Batman&lt;br /&gt;or Scooby without Doo&lt;br /&gt;Is there life without love&lt;br /&gt;Is there me without you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2832857894990875979?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2832857894990875979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2832857894990875979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2832857894990875979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2832857894990875979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/without.html' title='Without'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-8994381100578898834</id><published>2007-08-28T10:34:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:35:17.659-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Bit of Nothing</title><content type='html'>"Break the chains" they say, as if they understand.&lt;br /&gt;Break why, these chains need to be.&lt;br /&gt;So we can soar, they may add&lt;br /&gt;Now we can fly, I reply.&lt;br /&gt;Breaking free from things un-understood&lt;br /&gt;A release from the intangibles that collapse our wings&lt;br /&gt;What chains?&lt;br /&gt;I see only what you do&lt;br /&gt;People conspiring selfishly&lt;br /&gt;To take hold of a world they aren't allowed to understand&lt;br /&gt;It's not hard to explain&lt;br /&gt;But there is nothing to speak of&lt;br /&gt;We are restrained only by ourselves&lt;br /&gt;Our own belief in the gravity of our concerns&lt;br /&gt;As if they have meaning.&lt;br /&gt;The woman who ages 20 years at the notice of cancer&lt;br /&gt;The man who lives to 105 with the same.&lt;br /&gt;We are the chains&lt;br /&gt;It is us, determining the strength of our aptitude&lt;br /&gt;Which guides our trust in the non existence.&lt;br /&gt;For we perceive our age and flight&lt;br /&gt;Our excitement is relative&lt;br /&gt;to our understanding of one given moment&lt;br /&gt;From this we desire to break free…&lt;br /&gt;To a continuum of non-time equating our logic&lt;br /&gt;as irrelavent.&lt;br /&gt;However this accomplishment would devise another&lt;br /&gt;Fragment of question.&lt;br /&gt;Could we handle, and would we know?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-8994381100578898834?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/8994381100578898834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=8994381100578898834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8994381100578898834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8994381100578898834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/bit-of-nothing.html' title='A Bit of Nothing'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-269196480117239320</id><published>2007-08-28T10:34:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-03T20:53:20.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Risk Everything</title><content type='html'>There is a risk involved in everything&lt;br /&gt;Every time you share a smile,&lt;br /&gt;Every time you shed a tear&lt;br /&gt;You are opening your self up to hurt.&lt;br /&gt;Some people tread slowly through life&lt;br /&gt;Avoiding the closeness risks brings,&lt;br /&gt;Side-stepping what they can't understand&lt;br /&gt;Turning away from those who care too much,&lt;br /&gt;Those who care stay too long&lt;br /&gt;Those who hold to tightly.&lt;br /&gt;There is never an easy way to love&lt;br /&gt;You can not approach it cautiously,&lt;br /&gt;It is not reliable, it is not cautious,&lt;br /&gt;It is not sympathetic,&lt;br /&gt;It is un prejudiced and un merciless.&lt;br /&gt;It strikes the strongest of minds,&lt;br /&gt;and brings them to their knees in one blow.&lt;br /&gt;Even in the best of times love hurts&lt;br /&gt;It hurts to need, it hurts to belong,&lt;br /&gt;It hurts to be apart of someone else&lt;br /&gt;Without either of your consent,&lt;br /&gt;But, from the moment it over takes you&lt;br /&gt;It hurts worse to be all alone.&lt;br /&gt;The risk of love never depletes:&lt;br /&gt;It grows stronger and more dangerous with time,&lt;br /&gt;But, it's in the total surrender of all defense&lt;br /&gt;that we, no matter weak or strong,&lt;br /&gt;No matter willing or captive&lt;br /&gt;No matter what, we truly experience love.&lt;br /&gt;Despite many things that love is not&lt;br /&gt;Out weighing it all are the things that love is:&lt;br /&gt;Love is surrender with out loss,&lt;br /&gt;It is a gift with out cost&lt;br /&gt;It consumes your every thought and desire,&lt;br /&gt;Every breath you take&lt;br /&gt;It is the fire that fuels you,&lt;br /&gt;to do more than just pass through life-&lt;br /&gt;It urges you instead to live.&lt;br /&gt;No matter what the out come, having felt love,&lt;br /&gt;You will never be the same.&lt;br /&gt;It may scar your heart and soul&lt;br /&gt;and leave you only memories of forever,&lt;br /&gt;Or, it may cause every day of your life&lt;br /&gt;to feel like there is no need for tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;But, Love is worth it. It is worth the risk...&lt;br /&gt;For in all of life,&lt;br /&gt;Love is the only risk worth taking&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-269196480117239320?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/269196480117239320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=269196480117239320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/269196480117239320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/269196480117239320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/risk-everything.html' title='Risk Everything'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-2005388064018176061</id><published>2007-08-28T10:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:34:26.618-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One Silly Word</title><content type='html'>Love is just a wordit knows not the feel of a gentle handcannot capture the emotion of an aching heartlove is just one wordone word that cannot possible describethe fever that burnswhen lovers embracethe pure euphoria of skin against skinthe quivering anticipationof soft lips meetingfour lettersfeebly trying to expressthe joy, the sadness, the weakness, the strength, the foreverthat I feelyet this word that can never say everythingthat I need it tois all I have to give to you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-2005388064018176061?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/2005388064018176061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=2005388064018176061' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2005388064018176061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/2005388064018176061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/one-silly-word.html' title='One Silly Word'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-8629417549831310759</id><published>2007-08-28T10:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:33:59.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heal</title><content type='html'>Before the healing can begin, If healing is to last, It's essential to identify The demons of the past. We need to know just what it is We're trying to erase; In order to escape the pain, We must come face-to-face. The moment of truth can be a shock, And it can send us reeling; Careening on a roller ride, Exposing jagged feeling. Once we know for sure the hurts Were not imagined, but real, Then demons we can exorcise, And finally begin to heal. The habits that we've leaned upon, To cover up the pain, We're finally able to set aside, Regain control again. Once we come to understand The damage that was done, The haze is lifted, and we move From darkness into sun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-8629417549831310759?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/8629417549831310759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=8629417549831310759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8629417549831310759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8629417549831310759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/heal.html' title='Heal'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4685770295447683487.post-8196632280725855950</id><published>2007-08-28T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T10:26:30.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Step in Your Way</title><content type='html'>Actively pursueing our own demise.&lt;br /&gt;At least in the back of the mind in my eyes&lt;br /&gt;Inviting the end of our slim view of success&lt;br /&gt;Pushing it further away into your mess&lt;br /&gt;I want to live as a hypocrite like the rest of you&lt;br /&gt;Judging those surrounding me, what could they do?&lt;br /&gt;Who are you to point your finger at me&lt;br /&gt;Did I say you could.&lt;br /&gt;STOP!!!&lt;br /&gt;I want this so let me push myself off the edge&lt;br /&gt;Let me see the end I crave&lt;br /&gt;It's nice to see I'm at the point to admit&lt;br /&gt;The resounding damage I've put into it&lt;br /&gt;I have slaved to find a way to hide&lt;br /&gt;My tears, my pain, my rage, my life&lt;br /&gt;Lets all gang up to execute&lt;br /&gt;My plan to die&lt;br /&gt;The count down&lt;br /&gt;Begins now&lt;br /&gt;I'll show you&lt;br /&gt;Just how&lt;br /&gt;To be proud&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4685770295447683487-8196632280725855950?l=joemfclements.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/feeds/8196632280725855950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4685770295447683487&amp;postID=8196632280725855950' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8196632280725855950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4685770295447683487/posts/default/8196632280725855950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://joemfclements.blogspot.com/2007/08/step-in-your-way.html' title='Step in Your Way'/><author><name>Joe Clements</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07331526317774853164</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
