i actually sort of miss writing someones name with my fingertip on the fogged glass during my shower.

Dear Lord...

you are the smartie pants! you're very intectual

and love to read and write..its all

good..you'll be successful later on in life!


What Pin Up girl are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Technical knock out

Yesterday on the bus I sat next to a person who I am past acquaintances with but not quite friends with. It was very awkward, but luckily we decided to eaves drop. At first we couldn't decide whether to listen to the slutty girls talk about there friend who "sketches them out" or the two nerd girls behind us, but soon the sluts got of the bus. At first the conversation was very dull, but it had two climaxes. The girl on the left was Hispanic and she thought family came before everything. She also "had a brain and knew how to use it" (her very words) and is very good at manipulating people. Her Spanish teacher, adults., parents, she had the ability to get anything she wanted. Apparently. Girl on the right was adopted as well as her little brother, whose mother was a heroin addict and was living on the streets. Then it went back to a bunch of crap I wont go into. Soon my companion got off to exchange his pesos and wells Fargo, and that was the end of that.




lately listening to music has been a religious experience. And everything seems so bizarre.

sitting in the back seat underneath the passing light beams from the streetlamps, on a road that was leading to somplace he didnt want to be, he slowly fadded away. looking out of the mud coated car window he didnt see anything below, and above he was blinded by the flashes of yellow light. he turned his head and looked down at his hands, he needed to clean the dirt form beneath his fingernails. then he slowly fell asleep. he woke up suddenly because a truck behind them in the tunnel had honked its horn for good luck. he held his breath to make a wish, but by the time he thought of somthing remotly worth while the car had allready shot out of the mountain. he made his wish anyhow. up the curving road, and instead of slowing down the car started going faster and faster. around the turns the car started to go into the other lanes. he wasnt worried though, and tried to pick some of the dirt off his nails. the car was going ninety now and a particularly strong curve was coming up. the car went flying off the road and flew up then slowly started falling down. the radio was playing some pretty music that he hadnt heard before, and all the light now was from the moon and stars that the trees had restricted before. he died a few moments later, his wish came true.

Peace, Bitch

Who can turn the world on with a smile?



I have no motivation what so ever, and I am extremely passive aggressive and anxious.

I'm not gunna make it after all.

why i need a good swift kick to the arse

remeber that somthingsomthing toilet seats story i wrote a while back? the one with the peanut m&m's? remeber that fantastic last part and ending?
i think i deleted it.
kill me

Apparently the peaberrys on the corner of broadway and baseline is going to be closed and replased by a starbucks.
a tribute:

just another brick in the wall

I have nothing to say.

after watching the wall today with my hippie stoner school chums, i told my father and low and behold, it got him started on a (aprroximatly) 5 minute rant on how much he hates pink floyd. there very bloated and unoriginal, apparently. and we dont need no education is a very ignorant song. he even tied transendentalism into it.

i just dont like them that much.

here are some images i stole from other people; hopefully you can steal them to:

I do not share your "enthusiasm", your "lust for life". i wish i could just cut certian people out of my life, and not feel bad about it.

california dreamin'

All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown)
And the sky is grey (and the sky is grey)
I've been for a walk (I've been for a walk)
On a winter's day (on a winter's day)
I'd be safe and warm (I'd be safe and warm)
If I was in L.A. (if I was in L.A.)
California dreaming (California dreaming)
On such a winter's day

Stopped into a church
I passed along the way
Well, I got down on my knees (got down on my knees)
And I pretend to pray (I pretend to pray)
You know the preacher likes the cold (preacher likes the cold)
He knows I'm gonna stay (knows I'm gonna stay)
California dreaming (California dreaming)
On such a winter's day

All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown)
And the sky is grey (and the sky is grey)
I've been for a walk (I've been for a walk)
On a winter's day (on a winter's day)
If I didn't tell her (if I didn't tell her)
I could leave today (I could leave today)
California dreaming (California dreaming)
On such a winter's day (California dreaming)
On such a winter's day (California dreaming)
On such a winter's day

excuse me, conversation hearts.

angel
im me
email
wiz kid
u r a 10
b mine
luv u
u r a qt
cutie
let's read
first kiss
i hope


GOD i love candy hearts

She had things cut out from magazines taped up on her walls. Her room smelled like stale cigarettes and feet. And her raw ugliness awoke something animal in me.

We went down to the corner gas station and bought bad coffee, Irish. The Irish didn't help. Its Michigan, so it was windy, and it blew her long, dead, scraggly hair out of her scarred face. In the station she had been fingering a quarter in between her thumb and forefinger, it was gone now. I had nothing to say, and the silence was deafening, I almost didn't hear the wind. Her smokers cough broke it. Sharp, rasp, and from deep in the lungs. I didn't know how old she was, she could've been very young but her eyes shown that she had lived some mystery. Poor girl, I thought. You could tell she was sad, and you could tell she knew you were sad too. We walked to Bill's Laundromat. I carried her bag. Her dirty laundry.

dirty laundry

p.s
molly i swear im not stealing i took this one

xox

Manorexic

I think I'm scared of boys. no matter how "non-threatening" or "jewish" they may be.

Third part

He preferred the peanut m&m's he was popping in his mouth to the regular kind. Wrappers littered the room, I saw every single one when I walked in the door and heard them crinkle under my feet. He made no effort to hide them.
"we're a pair of pretentious fuckers, aren't we?" he said, without a hello.
"basically. Wow, the truth is harsh. I've become all I've ever hated." I joked.
"I know how that feels."
We were mean, bitter, cynical, bitches. We hated everyone and flaunted it. But eventually the thrill wears out. So, our entire purpose of friendship was wearing out. Before we were introduced, we didn't know the other existed. We both listened to the same music, wore the same clothes, liked the same movies, but were never aware of each others presence.

he jumped up off the bed quickly and grabbed his jacket from the chair as he flew out the door, wrappers crinkling behind him. I knew to follow. We got into his late 80's Honda and were driving down to the pizza place. I reached under my seat looking for a pack of cigarettes but all I found was an old bob Dylan tape. I was about to push it into the cassette player when he shrieked
"DON'T DO IT, IT EATS TAPES!"
"sorrysorrysorry!"
I decided to instead turn on the radio. Because his car was two decades old, not only was the seat foam coming out from the tears in the seams, but the antenna had fallen off too. So all we heard was white noise with what sounded like moody college radio underneath. I started to stare out the window.
"come back, daydreamer."
we were suddenly at the pizzeria.
"want a slice?"
"I don't feel like eating."
I walked to the back and slid into one of the booths in the corner. He came back with a greasy piece of pizza that looked exactly like his greasy face. I watched him poor a pound of Parmesan onto it. Then I watched him eat it. unlikemost people, this didn't seem to make him uncomfortable. He just kept shoving it in his face.

We started to have the same conversation we always have. First music.
" I love that song where it starts out really shitty and raw and then changes to those lyrics: ' those heartbreakers need to
leave this city this city leave this city and neva come back 'till there pure again.' "
"yeah, I like that to." the mystery with all rock lyrics is that the lines sound so great in the song, but taken out of them, they usually sound like crap.
then we moved on to:
"I hate people so much. They're ridiculous. I mean, look at that couple over there, does she really think she's gunny get laid giggling her leg like that?"
"I know! She's so unattractive. And you can totally see that the guy is just with her out of pity."
"or he cant find anyone better."
the sick pleasure we used to get out of this awful commentary had faded, and now we were just doing it out of routine.
"is it ok if we go down to the gas station?"
we left the pizzeria and walked past where he parked his car, and down to the corner. He bought peanut m&m's, and I got a tootsie roll pop. As I went up to the counter to pay the 25 cents I owed, I saw the nirvana junkie behind the cash register open his mouth.
"if you ask me how many licks I'm going to your manager and getting your ass fired for smelling like pot."
he looked slightly shocked. Back up the street to the car. Once we got in, he instantly opened the m&m's. I had stopped long ago expecting him to offer me some.
"I HATE this town. There's nothing to do. Its so goddamn boring."
another thing we had covered many times.
"well we could just drive around until we see something, or we could go to another town."
"I don't have enough money for gas to do that." he had already finished, and was crumpling up the wrapper.

i guess your just to cool for me now...

LAMP; chapped lips kiss blistered fingers

lamp.

I know every nook and krany of boulder city. This, sadly, is not a feat of any kind. I feel shellshocked, horrified, and culture clashed all at the same time. Boulder sucks, Colorado sucks. The first Saturday since I got back I felt bored, for the first time in 3 weeks, within three hours of waking. There is nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing to experience that hasn't been done a hundred times before. The monotony of school as dribbled into the weekend. Everything is the same and systematic. I want something new! Something fresh! This happened to me around the same time last year and I regretted every choice I made to make it exciting again, so I am a little hesitant to do anything about it, but I cant go on like this for much longer!

the door creaks open

i'm baaaaaaaaaaaaack