Saturday Mar 29, 2003

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ETETETETETETETETETETETETETETETETETETETETE
ETETETETETETEETTETETETETET...........ETETETETET
ETETETETETETETETEEeteteETE.............TEetetetTETE
ETETETETET..........E .................T.............Et..........TETET
ETETETETE.................ET..................................ETETETET
ETETETET...................Et....................Et.........TETETETET
ETETETE...........T.................E............ET............ETETET
ETETET............ETETETETETETETETETETETETETETE
ETETE............TETETETETETETETETETETETETETETE
ETETETETETETETETETETETETETETETETETETETETE
I'm just jackin' for your beats.
dave_h:
good job man. thats fuckin rad.

Saturday Mar 22, 2003

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I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old. I am 30 years old....
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roamingaround:
Well, you know, some of my best friends don't look good in makeup.

Dresses are something else entirely. I wouldn't be caught dead falling asleep in a dress....though I had a boyfriend once who liked to wear one of my little black dresses to sleep. When we broke up, I let him keep it.
roamingaround:
I think the fiery shitbag approach might just get my point across. I'll let you know how it goes. wink

Tuesday Mar 18, 2003

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Did you really think it could be any different?

The fantasies and conjectures, the endless stream of thoughts about the one thing you knew you were destined for.

Those grandiose dreams left you awash in what you imagined would be your limpid baptismal pool; they were, however, nothing but mud covering the depths of your insecurity and temporality.

How absurd it is, you think. It...
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boobie:
If the blood pools beneath your head or your so sure that it's not time to pick your friends with a little sweeter disposition, that, or stop playing with hammers? Modify and adapt. Reflect and learn. Do not search out and destroy your happy birthday.
_v_:
bizarre is right
oh
and
happy birthday

Wednesday Mar 12, 2003

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Orange you glad I didn't say banana?

I am covered with mud and I have the long-handled axe out. The fruits of rainy wood-chopping.

Let's play a little game; I call it "Turkish Prison." There are two ways to play: you talk - I listen, or, you scream - I laugh. To let you know that I'm a nice guy, I'll let you choose first.
ophelia:
Rainy wood-chopping conjures such weird mental images. For some reason it keeps making me think of Stephen King's "Gerald's Game". I don't quite know why.
Thinking can be good. Correction. Dreaming can be good. Thinking tends to make bad things surface, which, in turn, makes bad things happen. No more thinking for me.

Monday Mar 10, 2003

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I remember that time you wanted to make out with that guy in the bar. You were so hopped up on whiskey when you sat down next to him and said very loudly, "Do you want to go to the alley and make out?"

We were your friends and pretended like we didn't notice. I was a little hurt even though I didn't show it....
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dick_army:
Tonight was brought to you courtesy of Pabst Blue Ribbon, the Beta Band and the bitter taste of my regret. Avoir!

Saturday Mar 08, 2003

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Chopping wood is my chicken soup for the soul.

That, and watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre on acid.
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thursday:
'push the little daisies and make 'em come up!'
i like ween.
at the end of the song, when he sounds really freaked out, i always imagine this angry little, bald man on a stage yelling into a microphone like its the only way he has to vent. pretty funny stuff...
gingerlie:
haha.

Friday Mar 07, 2003

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Whadata, ma dammy, wha-da-ta. (Seepatown on the runny kine, digit ma dammy?)
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
rawr_ima_monster:
Pootie Tang?
-sadda tay?
Dave
jjay:
i like your version way better

Thursday Mar 06, 2003

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Oh, MX Studio, how you fucking mock me and my Adobe-centric lifestyle!

Damn my ignorance! Damn my pot habit! And damn the torpedoes!

Wednesday Mar 05, 2003

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So, ask me how I like my extended visit to the delightlfully wretched little town of Willamina whilst I search for a crib in PDX. OK, I'll tell you:

I've been learning to love wood heat. Not really. But I do love the wood chopping; the fresh hilly air puts that grime-encrusted glow back into my hillbilly cheeks. And my tits are getting big from...
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nouvelle:
hahahah, shit that's funny. kinda sounds like a town i use to live in here in cali, course the weed was good though.
does PK stand for preachers kid?

[Edited on Mar 05, 2003]

Friday Feb 21, 2003

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Tonight she got on the bus, and I'll never see her again. The jealous little girl that smokes too much. And I can't even cry.

Every time I see the truck belonging to the new boyfriend of my ex I want to pull a Vice City on it and ram it until it explodes. But I can't cry.

People tell me I shouldn't take ephedrine...
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debrajean:
arm to cry on here...
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