Welcome back to Stile Project's reader mail section, where you, loyal reader, get to share your pearls of wisdom. Just make sure to wash your hands after. If you have something to contribute, feel free to e-mail me.

Older reader mail: 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / 31 / 32 / 33 / 34 / 35 / 36 / 37 / 38

• From: LoCo Eleet [locoelite@hotmail.com]
• Subject: Seasons Greetings from the Netherworld.

Another splash of sex upon the screen, another hidden message. Running away from reality by any and all means necessary. Weve got demons on our asses and we all know it, and hell yeah theres gunna be hell to pay. The garbage truck rolls by because another past due bill, and a drunken mother sits and watches her cable. Priortize, prioritize, prioritize! Festering wounds upon festering wounds, the only salve we know is wounding everyone else around us.

Dysfunctional familes in a society that barely functions, a collapsing economy, an already ruined parliment, and a church so asinine and backwards weve come to fear this world instead of embrace it. Feel the crunch as our captilist machine rolls right over your unique ideas and self worth, and shits your bones and broken body out as cute little pennies.

The holidays are just another slap to our comatose faces. Deck the halls with hunger, poverty, broken familes, homelessness, and that void, right below your solar plexis, that you cant seem to fill. Tis the season and so on and such etc. Maybe this year you'll find some meaning to this wretched existance under the tree. No, wait, thats just a pair of gucci shoes you bought for your slut daughter.

Looking for release wherever we can find it, thru pain, pleasure, whatever takes our mind of that hollow and numb feeling in the bottom of our chests. Dont you feel like your waisting your fucking time? Dont you see that everyone around you feels the same fucking way?

What do you say to someone whom all their heroes have overdosed or killed themselves?

I know what you say.. Happy Fucking Holidays, scumbag.

• From: Steve
• Subject: Cerebral

Stile, if you post this, please leave out my name and email, just refer to me as "Steve". Thanks.

I think my body is fucking beginning to atrophy. I haven't left the house for 4 days, and my eyes ache because I spent all day on the computer. This is the shit that I have been working all my teenage life to prevent, and here I am, rotting, looking for something to do with my life.

I turned 18 two months ago, and there's no difference at all. I'm working a shit job just to save up a bit so I can get out of my parents' house and live on my own, and go to a cheap city college. I don't know why I don't get out anymore-- maybe it's the constant stink of diesel smoke when I get out-- I truly love New York City.

I am online until 4 in the morning, then I sleep, wake up at 2 in the afternoon, and repeat, with a break for food whenever I get hungry. I haven't showered, brushed my teeth-- and my skin is constantly itching. My hair was itching so much I just shaved it all off, a la Full Metal Jacket. My parents won't come near me, or even enter my room because of the stench, but fuck it. I am too lazy to buy some weed, or some shit to make me feel better, but the Internet high can be better than crack if you play your cards right.

I spend all day reading everything2.com, checking out stupid, repetetive photoshops on fark.com, on your other fucked up sites. I used to have a fucking dream. I joined the Air Force Auxiliary when I was 14, and made it pretty nice there. I wanted to go to the Air Force Academy up in Colorado, or at least a nice college with ROTC. I was into ham radio. I still have my license, and two radios, with which I don't know what to do. I still have my uniforms hanging in my closet.

You must be wondering what happened to fuck me up so much. Well, its pretty simple. I was too smart for my own good. I was so fucking smart, I got bored with school around tenth grade. I just slept, got to school late, didnt do shit at home, thinking it would come to me. Sure, I got 1400 something on the SAT's but my average was 60. I wanted to be free from this low-mediocrity shit. I wanted to do something respectable.

Alright, fine, maybe I couldn't be a lawyer, maybe not a film director, but hell, I was really into computers back then at least-- I ran my own website too, but it wasn't too successful. I taught myself how to use Linux, and around the time of my falling out I was reading a C++ book, all on my own time. Hell, I even had a cute girlfriend back then, although she was the type not to give pussy.

Well, I got lazy. She dumped me, I got kicked out of the AF Auxilary because you have to pass all your classes to stay in there. That didn't matter much, but it's no different now. So here I'm sitting, on fucking Christmas (not like it matters, I am a Jew by heritage, and besides, I'm agnostic). Alone. The moral of my story, Stile, is that we can't do shit alone. I fucked up because I alienated myself from my friends. I tried to go it alone, thinking I could do it better, but as it turned out, well, I lost my motivation. Keep people with you. Don't get fucked in the ass by the school system's focus on idiocy, but take it easy. Don't take shit literally, and just get through it, do a little work. And for all that is good and right, find someone to work with, whether it be a significant other, or just a friend. Help each other.

For all intents and purposes, I don't care what happens with this fucking "war". Maybe for once I can get some interesting shit going on with my life.

I haven't left my house in 25 days. Haven't showered in a month. I sleep and compute. Sleep and compute. Sleep and compute.

• From: Mr. Deryl K. Charlebois [deryl_charlebois@yahoo.com]
• Subject: Reader Mail

Dear Whomever:

I find your site disgusting, distasteful, and just plain garbage. I would pay to have a fucking faggot eat a whole box of ex-lax and the squat over your open mouth and have him shit right in your mouth.

Another thing. Why can you not leave the dead rest in peace instead of posting pics of them on the web? Are you a fucking necro?????

I hope someday that the authorities shut you down and lock you up for good. People like you give the human race a very bad name. What kind of sick perverted pleasure do you derive out of the shit you post on that poor excuse for a site of yours?

You must have had weird and or sick parents. I can't begin to describe the disgust I feel.

Nudity does not bother me in the least. It can be done in a very artistic way. I must admit that some of the nudity on your site can be called artistic, but for the rest of it, why don't you clean up your act?

Where the fuck do you think you'll end up when you die? Sure as hell won't be heaven. Shit, I don't think hell would want you either you sick son of a physical fuck up.

Just my opinion.

• From: oliver@ih8.net
• Subject: cerebral

Hi Jay!

Christmas is the Christian holiday commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ in Bethlehem, who Christians believe is the Son of God. The story of Christmas can be found in two Gospels of the New Testament, the books of Saint Matthew and Saint Luke. It is from these accounts that many of the symbols and traditions of the holiday grew. Christmas is a religious holiday, and in the United States the traditions surrounding Christmas have provided the basis for a secular Winter festival of celebration and gift giving.

Christmas; I think it's sad that people need a time allocated for visiting with family and friends. I think it's sad that people don't give their children the essence of Christmas every single day of their lives. Saint Nicholas, Santa, Kriss Kringle or whatever you call him; a man that more closely resembled a monk, delivering presents to children in the winter time, many many years ago, yet capitalism has turned him into a giggling fat clown-looking motherfucker that only gives you stuff if you're good. Sound familiar?

Just a bunch of propaganda made to increase sales over the winter season. What's it for? seriously. It delivers hopeless false promises to children. Only to be eventually told by their parents that Santa doesn't exist. Rather a sad holiday if you ask me. Give them love and presents as often as you can afford. Don't make them believe there is something out there that actually isn't.

Regards
Oliver Sayne

• From: Secularum [secularum@hotmail.com]
• Subject: cerebral - Christmas

My annual Christmas tradition for the last three years, since purchasing a DVD player, has been to watch A Christmas Story on the Eve.

To go from that to your site is to take a trip through time of Orwellian proportions. The scandal of a fishnet clad plastic leg lamp compared to the blasé vilification of young girls and human mutilations presented, for free, on your site is staggering and depressing. The movie is set 20 or more years before my own childhood, but even when I was Ralphie's age in the early to mid eighties the current world would have been unimaginable to me. Now, my 10 year old nephew probably knows more about "tossing salad" than he does about baseball. All thanks to the internet, cable and smut "perveyors" like yourself - not to mention parents' unwillingness to simply disonnect their children from the barrage of dehumanizing filth they are assaulted with when exposed to near every form of media.

Our culture is rotten to the core.

Anyway, hope you get something nice for Christmas.

The only thing I got for Christmas was loneliness.

• From: Jeremy Johnstone [godshavethequeen@hotmail.com]
• Subject: cerebral

Hey stile

I don't know about you, but I smell the distinct scent of commercialism all around us. It's not in the sky, it's not in the air, but it's on every
billboard across the land; christmas. Buy, buy, buy, show people that you love them by buying them a gift, make sure you're alive and valued by
receiving gifts. I can see this, I hope you can see this, I see that everyone is trying to please one another, and that we rely on pleasing one
another to please ourselves. We fill some void in soul with Santa Clause and Easy Bake ovens, we consume so much out of our selfish needless need to consume that we go from human beings to mechanical consumers. I used the word consume far too many times in the previous sentence. I have to confess, I'm a little drunk, it is christmas eve.

But I don't know what to think anymore, I really enjoy the happiness and the joyfulness of christmas. I know it's a sham, but like a discarded morsel of food caught in a draining sink, I only feel myself being pulled even more to the merriness of the holiday as time passes. I'm a sucker for smiling lips
and waxy chocolates.

I can't really go down the road to nitty gritty humanity yesterday, I don't really like the shallow transparent world of today, and maybe there is some
beautiful future for me tomorrow, or maybe the only answer to my plight is to end it. Maybe this is a runaway nonsensical rant that's going into some
far outstretched region of my brain, that a colony of space-bus-driving-reindeer are colonizing to start a new utopian society. I'm really hopelessly confused, maybe I'll find the answer tomorrow morning under an oddly decorated tree that's been dragged into my house.

Best Wishes (or worst?)
-BoatMate

P.S. Thanks for the porn, my shallow existense would be nothing without it.

• From: CrookedEdg@aol.com
• Subject: social anxiety

greetings. i've been a long time visitor of your site. i skip all the disturbing and shocking imagery (when possible) and just read all the content, which is usually quite good. even bought a gas mask shirt that i still wear, when the time feels right. i've written you before, all at times when i wanted to tell about depressing shit. it's oddly comforting trying to outdo others' tales of gloom and self loathing while simultaneously not trying to sound like a a pathetic crybaby looking for sympathy. i'm actually in a pretty good mood now, but i wanted to tell you about something that causes me trouble and is probably a big source for much of my unhappiness. problem is, i hate just loafing around by myself with nothing to do. when the weekend comes around and i have the time to do whatever i want, i can barely sit still, i just want to go out to the clubs and be among the living and meet and talk to people.

problem is, once i'm there, i find it impossible to talk to people. people meaning women, of course, i really have no reason to talk to dudes. when i go out, i stand in one spot for a while and scope out whos there, and usually see more then a few ladies who are physically attractive enough to spark an interest in me to find out if they're cool or just nutty broads. but, i never do take that first step of going up and introducing myself, or asking their name. my mind races for things i would ask after that initial greeting. every possible idea sounds too scripted and unnatural, and i feel like if i just freestlye it, i'll end up stuttering and turning red in the face like the dork with the prettiest girl at the middle school dance in the cafeteria.

i feel like the second i walk up and initiate a conversation, the chick will think i'm looking to fuck her. which why beat around the bush, that's usually my ultimate intention. not really though...even though i'm as dow n as the next guy for a night of casual consentual sex, i actually prefer having a girlfriend rather than just trying to fuck as many different chicks as i can before i die. call me old fashioned in that sense. but back to my issue; why is it so hard for me to talk to people in public? i'm in shape, i'm not ugly (not "not ugly" as in "butt-ass ugly but my mom says i have pretty eyes-not-ugly," ...i'm just too afraid of seeming vain by saying i'm handsome or something...christ it's not like you care, stile (i hope)). i'm even a dj, everybody knows women are crazy about handsome young djs, right? but even that rarely comes up, for it seems that when it does, they either get confused and think i'm a radio dj, or some idiot that plays the electric slide at weddings and bah mitzvahs. and if they don't think that, then they think i'm either some hip hop wigger or a pretty boy fag that plays gay ass trance, of which i am neither. after that, i get too caught up trying to explain the undergound breakbeat style i spin and end up confusing them and sounding like some pretentious musical snob asshole (which i more or less am, but it's not good to reveal this in a first conversation). and either way, i don't like to bring it up unless the girl seems like she would be interested, because i don't like seeming like i'm trying too hard to impress them.

i didn't become a dj to meet chicks anyway, i gotta maintain some degree of professional integrity. so that last little part reveals that i have had some mild success at conversing with women in public, usually only after the point that i've consumed about 8-10 drinks. which makes it easier to be a little more loose, but unfortunatly, even though i'm a champ at keeping it down, i usually get a little clumsy and slurry as well at this point. which just totally kills the whole idea, since i can rarely remember the chick's name, or what we talked about 5 minutes ago for that matter, once i've reached this level of con fidence, and the chick can usually tell this, and once again assumes i'm just some sloppy creep trying to score a hummer before i pass out. i'm relaying my usual club scenario to you, but it actually goes much deeper and is rooted in whatever possible public situation you could think of. at one point in my life, it was so bad that i dreaded the thought of just driving to the store to buy a 12 pack and some cigarettes, because of the possibilites of seeing a hot female and knowing i would just look away if our eyes met, instantly indicating to her that i'm a pussy who's too shy to say something to her. i tried to make this sound a little humorous, but it's truly pathetic when i catch myself at odd moments trying to think of things i could possibly say in the event that i run into a girl that i would like to talk to.

it makes me wonder, am i just that boring of a person that after a freindly normal greeting, my minds blanks out? when every idea i get for something to say sounds completey stupid? "hey how's it going?" "i'm fine, how about you?" "oh i'm good thanks....uh...pretty cold day, huh? so, what do you think of these neonazis who insist the holocaust was all a fabrication by the jews?" well you probably get my point by now, and maybe you yourself find you have the same problems, unless you really are just an antisocial nihilist who actually prefers not to talk to people at all. sometimes i wish i was just a cold bastard who didn't need people, but alas i'm a lonely dude who desparatly seeks contact with the outside world and who time and time again watches the opportunity slip right from my grasp. maybe one day i'll have a sac.