edsel

so beth's mad at me cos i sd:

"put those pictures up child."

n she sd:

"are you sure you want those pictures up?"

n i sd:

"don't be such a fucking soot."

and it continued to degenerate into acrimony because beth knows damn well i'm suspicious of how she uses words and so she's worried and defensive about her captions and the whole process is a technological nightmare which i make her do - because i'm a narcissistic shit i suppose....

missy is mad at me because i addressed her "oh most sacred of sluts" and the word 'slut' set her off.

nixon is presumably still mad at me because i suggested (as i remember) that you turn yourself into a kind of barbie when you put yourself up on the web. she didn't like the word 'barbie'.

once upon a time the word 'suicide' had meaning.... it was a bad thing, for killing is supposedly reserved for god...
it was generally thought to arise from a narcissistic sense of hopelessness...

you may glimmer my g.i. joe dick
if you click
on pics....

i drop by flamingo east last night after work. the scene strikes me lame. the music tired and boring. only the extension of a goth aesthetic into ethnic communities once unrepresented in any way relieves my sense of nacissistic hopelessness.

that and the fact that flamingo east, once a preciously hip east village place art directors drank cosmos, is now a skeevy falling apart dive... i liked that...

the clothes in my photoessay were purchased for thirty three dollars and eleven cents in about fifteen minutes... (i'd've spent less but i was in a hurry.)

when it comes to buying cheap clothes with good labels i know some tricks, but i'm maybe gonna keep them to myself because i am pervaded with a sense of narcissistic hopelesness and my head hurts cos i don't have no smoke and i don't razor blade my wrist this second because i'm looking to see the whole island go up when the republicans are here.