Steve - In the Rainforest

I'm so sleep deprived I feel like I'm suffocating in it.

This was meant to be an easy all-nighter. It seems like with every one I take I lose little part of the ability. Maybe I'll never have one as easy as this again... I'll definitely never have one as easy as I did six months ago.

Is this ageing?

Is the slow death coming for me already?

How many all-nighters do I have left?

Because we don't know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. But everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.

Steve - Undersleeps

I feel sleep's disorientating grip on my shoulder.

I didn't sleep last night.

Sleep is odd. I've found that it's possible to be entirely conscious while asleep. When thought back on, this seems like an entirely obvious fact. One is conscious in dreams is one not? But I'm talking about, being awake conscious, then passing into sleep without losing that.

Do we ever lose it, or is our memory just turned off? Do we have the same epiphany every night where we suddenly realise that we're conscious in sleep anyway but never remember it?

On the other side of the spectrum, there's the idea that we might not even dream. Dreams might just be memories that get constructed as we sleep, which we look back on when we wake up.

Of course, this leads us to the question of what consciousness is. Since this seems an impossible question, this entry will end here.

Steve - Sighs

HAY, WORLD,

HOW ABOUT GIVING ME A BREAK?

For fucks sake. I'm not going to start believing in fate just because things go wrong at sickeningly right times.

Steve - Rebreathes

It's an odd feeling to have it brought back to you that your actions have consequences.

It's not necessarily a bad one. I guess it's a breath of fresh air in a way, to know that you're not some ghost who just drifts through people and life in a non-corporeal way. In a world where we have so little power to affect things and even less to effect things... we can all empathise with the school shooters, sharing their desire to make something happen, whatever the cost.

I'm kidding myself if I think this is going to fix me, even with the conversation I had with grace last night, but it feels like I have a little more room to breathe. Room to perhaps make myself a bit better.

I think relativity is the problem here, or at least that's a way of thinking about it.

If objectivity existed then relationships would be easy. If you could just explain how things are then everything would be easy. Unfortunately the impossibility of that is precisely what makes relationships so difficult. You're trying to reconcile two relative realities, and there are a lot of frictions to deal with in that.

But, while it's important that we remain immersed in that, perhaps sometimes it's useful to look at it from another perspective. These conflicts happen, they were always going to, and they will do again. I'm needy, dependent, fragile, sensitive, morose, spiteful, and self-pitying, while at the same time making it generally rather difficult for people to help me with that. You're... that's not for me to say, but there are things that conflict with me there. If we are two objects that come together, there are spikes on you where there are sore parts on me. There are times I wish those parts of you would go away, and I'm pretty sure you feel the same about me sometimes (I know I do). Doesn't meant they're going to, especially with all this distance, and I doubt either of us expect them to.

Which is the important bit. While there is conflict there, as long as we can accept that conflict and keep in mind that it won't disappear, it's okay. If it got too much to take, then maybe something solid would have to be done, but at the moment it's not, at least it's not for me. We make eachother unhappy, but as long as we make eachother happy as well then that's okay.

And That's Where It All Falls Down, of course, because I've not felt significant happiness in probably close to a month. But that's not your problem. It's a problem that's beginning to scare me. It means I have very little to give, in love or happiness, and that's not good for my friendships. As well as it generally being not very nice and I don't know why or how to deal with it.

Have you wondered why we do this? Why don't we just talk to eachother directly rather than making vaguely responsive [micro]blogs? Not saying it's a bad thing, it's just been playing on my mind. Maybe it avoids direct conflict.

Steve - Goes Nuclear

So, those in England or France will most probably have heard of the collision of the submarines carrying the English and French nuclear deterrents, respectively.

Nothing much happened, apart from the media getting a bit worked up and a few minor damages, and the hilarious explanation (they were both equipped with advanced stealth technology, and it all worked as expected). But, as regular readers of this blog will note, I've been pretty interested in nuclear weapons of late.

These submarines give a select few people the power to obliterate huge swathes of humanity in a matter of hours (at most). Should anyone have that power? Is there anyone you trust enough?

Radiation sickness is pretty interesting. You feel sick for a day or two, and then for a period of one to two weeks you're absolutely fine (referred to as the 'walking ghost' phase). Then you die in a lot of pain.

Still, a week or two knowing your death is around the corner, knowing pretty definitely how much time you have left.

I don't have much to say today.

A fun perhapsfakt: If nuclear submarines lose contact with British government, they are to listen for The Today Program on Radio 4. If they don't hear it for a set number of days, they are to assume that Britain has been lost, and are to open a sealed envelope containing orders to initiate nuclear retaliation.

Steve - Is Angry

Ordinarily I try to give people the benefit of the doubt. A self-defence mechanism I picked up a long time ago was to blame myself for problems that occur in my relationships with people. It's not particularly healthy, but it keeps angry problems to a minimum...

...and in some small way I'm getting back at them, because I know they won't like the idea that I'm hurting as long and severely as I am for their benefit.

And that's part of what makes it so effective, because I'm expressing my anger even as I suppress it. Doesn't help all the time, but when I decide to redirect it inwards it makes it all easier.

But not all the time. Sometimes I just want to hurt people, to make them understand what they're making me feel. Sometimes I try, and most of the time I just end up feeling powerless because actually making people hurt takes a far cooler head than I have at that point. It wouldn't achieve anything either way, because people seem far more skilled in making me hurt than I am at making them hurt. I'm glad of that most of the time.

And when I really am angry, I get more vulnerable and self-doubting. With all the things that get said in angry moments, I generally end up worse off if I express it at anyone.

It's people not caring about me that makes me angry, mostly. I feel so used sometimes, and I probably am used. I don't really mind it most times, but when I'm really feeling awful and need a little... I dunno, humouring, taking care of... I know it's high-maintenance and stupid and I guess it can get monotonous... but I try so hard for other people, for myself... is it too much to ask?

I can't really ask for someone to just provide for me like that, really, can I?

Nor could anyone, really. Like I said before, there's not much to say.

Anyway, that doesn't stop me getting angry. Especially at the most blatant callousnesses.

How can I make this clear to you?

Every time I've said I'm alright in the past month has been a lie. Very nearly every time I've said love in the past month I've not felt it. I think I said it once or twice to Kathy and Rosy and meant it, because I was writing to them and that helped me get in contact with my fondness for them I guess. I can't think of any other time. I'm going to stop saying it when I don't feel it. I don't have enough positive feeling inside me to feel love.

Is this getting through to you?

Steve - Isn't

I: Ello
Her: hi
Her: i never learned your name
I: I apologise. It's Steve!
Her: steve?
Her: for real?
I: Steve.
I: For real.
Her: Steven your real name?
I: Yepp
Her: oh
Her: i shall call you steven
I: That is fine by me!
Her: I don't like calling people by their nicknames
Her: its just strange
I: Y'reckon?
Her: huh?
I: Do you reckon?
Her: what does that mean lol
I: It means something like "Do you think?", but in that case it was to ask why you thought that
Her: oh
Her: lol

Hm. I doubt it, somehow.

I want to change my name. Not officially or permanently, just... for a while. Try different names on, see what they're like. Next time someone asks me my name, I'll say... Felix. Yeah, that'll do. It's the easiest lie to tell, your name, because there's no conceivable reason why you'd lie, so no one will look for it. And then the repercussions of your lie become apparent rather quickly, as they call you it. It's the perfect crime.

"Wats in a name lol?"

Shut the fuck up, quotation marks.

I've been playing an RPG a lot lately, a fantasy RPG, a fantasy text-based RPG. Damnit, I keep breaking these rules. First animé now this. I blame Dowell and Irishwoman. Anyway, it's not really that enjoyable, but it's addictive and mind-numbing and difficult to avoid. Like sleeping. What's my character like? Please, I'm not going to lower myself to that.

She (didn't see that one coming) is called Jacqueline. Her race is vampire and her class is Chaos-warrior. Here is what she wears:

a) The Two-Handed Flail 'Kraken' (3d6) (+20,+90%) (+1)
b) (nothing)
c) a Coral Ring of Fate
d) a Peridot Ring of Teleportation
e) a Rosetted Amulet of Charisma (+1)
f) (nothing)
g) a Hagaromo [2,+8]
h) a Cloak of Protection [1,+9]
i) a Large Leather Shield of Resistance [6,+7]
j) The Metal Cap of Halloween [3,+12] (+1)
k) a Set of Gauntlets of Free Action [2,+7]
l) a Pair of Soft Leather Boots of Stealth [2,+8] (+8)

Nerd. At least I've cheated. It's too boring if I don't, the same with most games really.

I have an ulcer on the side of my tongue. It hurts, and it's unbearable sometimes. The problem with mouth ulcers is that... you know the way you can focus on a given part of your body, and the focus is always on at least one area at a time? Well that focus for me defaults to my mouth. So it hurts, and the movement is obstructed and my sensations of taste are generally fucked up due to either not moving/swallowing much or the mouthwash I use to treat it fucking with my taste. It's not as bad as the mouthwash that basically numbs the whole of my mouth. It doesn't make things taste bad, and it takes the pain away completely, but... having a totally numb mouth is not a pleasant experience.

It's my own fault anyway. These fucking energy drinks. They make my mouth too acidic and thereby mess it up. Straws help though, so I'm using them. I think I'm going to stop drinking them anyway. I've grown tolerant to that level of caffeine, so they don't make me feel any better anymore. Maybe that's why things have been bad lately (think the past two-three weeks or so). I could drink more? Not good for my health, no, but I don't want to keep feeling this.

How much of my body is me? Is my foot me, or is that an external tool I just use? My hands? My brain? My heart? What about my eyes? My tongue? My penis? My testicles? My optic nerve? My brain stem?

I don't know. They're all dying, but something's eating away at my tongue right now. Is that attacking me? If it was eaten away completely, would I be a different person? What if it was my foot? My heart? My eyes? My hands? My genitalia? Does that make them part of me? What is caffeine doing to me? What would mood stabiliser drugs do to me?

I don't know.

Steve - Forsook

It doesn't get any better. Sorry, mythical reader, blog posts don't get any happier today.

Why do I write? It isn't because I love the stinging twinge I get from the lack of responses, reminding me I'm alone.

It isn't that people don't care, as much as it feels like they don't sometimes, it's just that there's not really much you can say to me, and it's draining to try. And so in a situation with no pressure, why bother? There's no real reason why I'm feeling and behaving like that, it's just... there.

I write to express it I suppose, as cliché as that is. If I didn't write it'd just build up and I'd end up in an even worse state. I can't talk to people about it, that's becoming clearer and clearer. For all the listening I've done, you might think I'd get some good karma that way, but I guess not. So I talk to an ambiguity. Dear reader, I both love and hate you for your silence.

Of course, today fate has given me a reason to be melancholic. I didn't see it coming, but there's not really much I can do about it. A friend decided she didn't want to speak to or hear from me, indefinitely. I wasn't there for her enough, or rather I was not-there for her too much. The irony isn't lost on me.

I could probably go get drugs if I wanted. Drugs for bipolar disorder, especially since I gather psychology has altogether given up on treating it with therapy. Slice off the lows and the highs of my emotional experience, daze myself up... I don't plan to, but the worse it gets the fewer reasons I can think of not to.

Sigh. Another day.

Steve - Watches

Subtitles are weird. For the first minute or so it feels weird to have to glance down every line of dialogue, but after a while it's like you're not even looking, you just soak it up. It feels like you're just hearing it, and indeed it puts itself into my memory that way too.

In fact, that is even more interesting. Consider there to be two parts to speech: the actual sounds, and the meaning. When you're fluent in a language, these are inseparable, but when you're just learning it then you have to almost consciously translate the sounds into their meanings.

Anyway. Perhaps, because there's the meaning there and there's the sound, it's all going through the same places that it would if I understood the speech. Perhaps I am understanding the speech, through mediation.

Yeah.

Yeah, okay, fine. I failed. I'm now on the slippery slope of getting Into anime. Sigh. Eat it up, you bastards.

One other thing I wanted to talk about with regards to this: people. Have you ever been being driven somewhere, a long journey perhaps, through a place you don't know, and looked at the houses with their darkened windows and wondered what kind of people live there? Maybe catching a glimpse of things on their windowsills, maybe even them, in the warm glow of indoor lighting or the pewter sea of reading on an overcast day.

Maybe some of them look out at the cars and wonder what kind of people are in those fish-tank bullets.

There are whole lives packaged up in those houses. Whole beautiful fragile lives, simultaneously sharing a similar space. I wonder what would happen if, everything, the cars, the houses, all of that, were to just disappear one day, while we were passing, and we were left dazed people sitting on damp grass and hot tarmac, joined together by the intimacy of confusion.

I want to know those people. I really really want to. There are so many people, even within a relatively short radius from here, and there have to be some in that group that... are the kind of person I want to know, to touch, to experience life with.

But how can I find them? Even if it were practical to locate them (it probably is), social boundaries keep us apart. What would people think if I were to just approach them in a public space, and engage in conversation with them? At best I'd be a pleasant distraction, at worst I'd be a sexual predator, or make them feel profoundly uncomfortable. Sure, the kind of person I'm looking for might not be that way, but how many restraining orders is it going to take to find them?

And I don't want to go looking in Social Areas either. Clubs or bars or what-the-fuck-ever else. But... when I've left school, uni, and decided not to work (not that work is a great place to meet people anyway), what is there left?

Anyway, got a bit off topic there. Beyond that, there are people in other countries. Like say... oh I don't know, Japan. These people speak a different language to me and have different culture... is it possible for me to relate to them at all? Or for them to relate to me? Can I find love in them, or them in me? How do I find them?

There are too many people alive to hold on to any.

Steve - Is Away

Handed all my work in yesterday, on time. I think I was in the minority for my group for doing so. The rest got an extension due to head issues mainly, which troubles me because I've had head issues and I still managed to get the work done comfortably. Sometimes I wish I would break more often, be more fragile. I'd like people to care, to sympathise. That's probably not a good thing to want, but I dunno... it'd make me feel nice, less alone.

These blog entries are so emo. I'd like everyone who reads this to know that I'm not always like this >_> This just seems to be my outlet for these particular feelings. Also, if your name is Amy and you're reading this, get online!

I should probably give myself a project over the holiday. What should it be I wonder?

I've been thinking about gender again. Sparked a bit by my rereading of The Brains of Rats.

I won't say I feel trapped by my body, though I want to, because I don't, not really. It's my body, and there things I can and can't do, and ways I feel about that, but they're not really to do with gender.

But sometimes, I do so long to be a girl.

There's a lot to that sentence, as any sentence, but to that one especially. I'll explain:

Sometimes: Not all the time, sometimes I'm not thinking about it, and sometimes I fall in love with the way I look, enough to forget.

I do so: This is an interesting triptych of words. It brings to mind old fashioned romance novels and such. This is purposeful, because it is that kind of feeling. A sort of unrequited longing. Unrequited because I know it will never happen.

long: Because it is a longing. It's not a wanting, it's a longing. I don't know how else to describe it.

to be: Be? That's a strong word, especially combined with I. It means I want to transform somehow, to change what I actually means. Then again, do nouns actualise verbs or do verbs actualise nouns?

a girl: Note that I did not say woman. I know I feel uncomfortable calling myself a man, terribly uncomfortable. I don't know if this is for age or gender. I can feel okay, good even, calling myself a boy, it seems to fit me somewhat. It's also a more feminine word, or at least a less masculine word. Being a girl though... I don't know, it stirs things in me. And being a woman feels like something I could grow into.

What kind of girl would I be? What would I look like? I like thinking about that question. I don't know though, there are all kinds of ways I could look. I don't want to have to decide really. I want to learn to love my body whatever it might... have turned out to be.

I dunno.

I want someone to take an interest in my art, too. I want someone to ask me important and pressing questions about it. I want someone to make their own interpretations. The interview last night was good in that way, but it was mostly about my old stuff. I dunno, I'd do it for them too, of course, and enjoy it. No one really does it for me, but the few questions I do get are wonderful. It seems like the more art I do, the harder it gets to really express what I want to.

I wish someone would use me. Exploit me. Not necessarily sexually. At least that way I'd feel like I'm some use to someone. At the moment I just feel mediocre.

Gosh, this whole entry has been very emo. Ah well.

Anyway, the title. I'm going home today. Doesn't make much difference to anyone who reads this, but still...

Steve - Is Extended

So apparently my lecturer is some kind of 'ill' and so our showings are not today.

Curses!

So now I have more time to work on this other work that has to be handed in tomorrow. There's not much to do, but because of this turn of fate I have lost all my motivation. I don't want to do it! Damnit, this is not what I need. I know I'll get it done, it's just a matter of how stressful it is.

Troublesome.

I dunno where my head is at the moment. I'm not as bad as I was a week ago, but I still don't feel especially nice. I am self-medicating a bit more though, mainly on food and other self-indulgancies, which isn't partic bad because I could do with eating a bit more anyway.

Blehk, I dunno, listlessness. I want something to happen. Something really really nice, and sudden, and unexpected, or at least so quick I don't have time to expect it. I don't even remember when that last happened.

Steve - Is Enjoyed

An Irishwoman, a Welshwoman, and an Englishman walked into a restaurant.

We had a conversation about half way through our time there, which was pretty much dedicated to talking about me. As I mentioned in a previous entry, I rarely allow myself much credit emotionally, and they said only nice things, so it made me feel nice inside. I think they got off on seeing me blush too, but I'm okay with that.

They said a couple of things that are kinda interesting as well as nicefeeling. It's interesting to know how you are perceived through the eyes of others.

The Welshwoman said she thought I was attractive. There may have been a 'very' in there somewhere. A Northerner told me something similar a couple of weeks ago. Makes me happy, but I don't have much to say about it.

The Irishwoman said that there was a subtlety to my personality. That, at first, I seem to be a genteel, intelligent, guy, but as you get to know me you start to see a... wickedness. Which is an odd turn of phrase, but she said it with a smile so I doubt she dislikes it too much.

She also said that she can usually 'figure out' everyone, but she can't figure out me. Which I guess makes me enigmatic. This secretly pleases me. I know it shouldn't, but it does.

I think I'm going to ask her whether she thinks I am a strong person or a fragile person. Should be interesting to see what she says.

I bought a new hat today. Would you like to see?

Steve - Is Insane

It's dawning on me that, if I were to go to a psychiatrist, I would be diagnosed as mentally ill. Not even just because they're being overbearing either, but because there is something significantly wrong with me.

A while ago, when I'd just come out of such a crushing depression that it took me a while to wake up to the world again, I suddenly remembered chameleons, how they could change the colour of their skin at will. I actually had to look this up to verify it, because my view of the world had desaturated so much that it seemed implausible that such incredible things could exist.

I feel desaturated now. This period from the 23rd Dec 2008 to present has been the worst I've felt for a long time, at least over such a long period. I react to seemingly everything as an opportunity for dark pearl reasoning, like a cent gliding over the surface of a charity money spinner.

Invader Zim once sent me into a night of awful emotion. I mean, I must have been in a bad place anyway, but every so often I have nights where I feel the worst I've ever felt. Uberdepressions. Anyway, Invader Zim sent me into that because'f the art style. It's so... dank. So pessimistic. And it corresponds to how I see the world when I'm in these places.

This all sounds terribly emo. Sadly, I'm not expressing even half of what I'm feeling like. I can't even communicate that without falling into cliché.

Thank god I'm worth putting up with, for some people at least. I had a conversation with myself yesterday where I tried to remind myself all the good things about me. However much you might hurt people out of your faults, you do care, and by-and-large you do good for the people in your life. You make them feel happiness, love, calm, safety, as much as you can at the moment. You've gotten so much better, you've come so far in such a relatively short time. Three years ago you were a dick, and yet your opinion of yourself is so much lower now than then? It doesn't fit, you know that. Feel good about yourself for once, you really do deserve it. Lover, love thyself.

Sigh, I don't know. I only felt the tiniest twinge of it when I wrote that. I felt it more yesterday, for a second or two perhaps...

I swear, the further this entry goes, the more it descends into emo. I dunno, I don't really care.

Steve - Fights The End

It feels like all I want to do now is sleep. I'm staying up 'til 5PM, that is a good time to go to sleep and will help readjust my sleep schedule. I allnightered last night, and they're getting much harder than they were. I think I might have permanently fucked my brain in my last time of skipping two nights of sleep a week. This worries me, what have I done and what else might it affect?

It's snowing, and has been for about an hour now. It's alright. Likely won't settle, not at this rate, but it's nice.

Keeping up with my project...

Did a bit of work today, but not as much as I'd like. More when I wake up, I've no hope of concentrating right now.

Ughk.

Steve - Is Underwater

It feels like caffeine is the only thing keeping me alive lately. Like it's a thin shell I'm walking on, when below is deep dark and icy cold. I've been sleeping from 9AM 'til 5PM, and woken up feeling like I don't deserve it. Like I'm worthless, a rotten sack full of corroded lead. Getting out of bed is a struggle of will.

I don't know, maybe my presentation took more out of me than I realised. That's when this latest bit started. I mean, I've not been right since around the 23rd of December last year, but since last Wednesday things have been different. I've not wanted to get up, not for anything, and everything after that seems an effort. Caffeine is the only thing that is keeping me able to focus and feel okay.

I've got a new project. It was very sudden, really. We've had the brief for our Live Writing module for a while but I've not really had any clear ideas. Even the idea for this isn't clear in my head yet, but you saw some of the results of it in my last blog. The numbers on my body are starting to fade now. But they're not fading really. They're going somewhere, I just don't know where. Bits flaking off into the air, down the plughole with the water, rubbing off on my skin, on other people's skin, all those places. And that's part of the point. Entropy, always increasing regardless of what I want.

The number itself? It's the number of hours left until five minutes and two seconds past midnight on June 16th, 2060. I've decided that's when I'm going to die, and I'm counting down to then. I'm trying to remain mindful of that fact, rather than just making it a habit. I'm writing the numbers down frequently, and taking photographs of these writings. This, too, is an aspect I'd like to further explore.

I'm not sure what I'll do with this plethora of photos, but I'm sure I'll think of something.

Here are some things I've been writing lately:

The atomic bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima have been playing on my mind lately.
I don't know, I can't get them out of my head. The destruction was so complete... the loss of life.

Somebody told me when the bomb hits, everybody in a two mile radius,

will be instantly sublimated.

But if you lay face down on the ground for some time, avoiding the residual ripples of heat,

you might survive.

Permanently fucked up and twisted like you're always underwater refracted. Oh,

but if you do go gas there's nothing you can do,

if the air that was once you,

is mingled and mashed with the kicked up molecules,

of the enemy's former body.

Big kid tested, motherfucker approved.

~21st Century Pop Song, by Hymie's Basement

And another:

Another thing that's been on my mind lately, along with Atomic Bombs, has been my physical body. It's becoming clear that all of these thoughts (which are starting to fuck with my head now, too much for too long) are as a result of the Hymie's Basement album, here are some lyrics from it:

Most men resent their left hand;

The bony knuckles, the second rate super hero thumb,

so broad and masculine,

overshadowed, and rendered sedentary by its more active opposite companion.

But I've got my mother's hands, and...

Aren't babies born with creases in their palms,

way before you'd think the hand's most frequent movements been established?

Have humans evolved to be, born to hold,

hammers, and swords?

In the years to come, will we see the emergence,

of a strong computer key finger?

In the years to come, will we see,

a flattened, mousepad palm?

The limitations and intentions of my body are coming into razor sharp focus, like the world has been cut and the colours are leaking out in purest form.

I can hold a knife easily enough, and bring to bear the full (though still relatively minor) strength of my arm against something. I can run more efficiently over long distances than I can sprint over short distances. I can walk forwards easily, and I can fix my eyes on one spot in front of me.

I can't lie down on my side without my arm and shoulder being crushed beneath me. I'm too tall for most people to hold me as completely as I'd like. I can't see keenly to the side or behind me. My hands are too shaky for me to draw straight lines. My bones stop me from being as comfortable as I wish I was for those I care about. I can't change the colour of my eyes or hair. I can't express what I'm really feeling with my face, where I really feel things. I can't reproduce certain sounds with my mouth. I can't remember and re-experience smells or tastes. I can't hallucinate at will. I can't taste deliciousness without wanting to swallow. A lot of things, I have to destroy before I can consume or fully appreciate them. I can't stop breathing indefinitely, nor can I stop my heart beating, and for those reasons I can never stop moving for longer than a few minutes and live to tell the tale. Things will always distract me from what I wish to immerse myself in. I can't stop sleeping and expect not to suffer from it. I can't control my death, when or how it will happen, nor can I know either of those things.

To finish, a Morbid Fact Du Jour:

Jumbo, "the largest elephant in the world" and one of P.T. Barnum's main attractions, was killed when he was struck by a train while loading up to travel to the next city. It was said that Jumbo turned back onto the track in order to push his little dwarf elephant friend, Tom Thumb, safely off the tracks. He saved his little friend but he sacrificed himself.

Steve - Begins a New Project