fuck the menstrual cycle. fuck it up it's fucking ass.
and why is it so fucking hot in here?
I have an interview with a different staffing company tomorrow. let us all hope that something good happens. I need something good to happen.
it rained all day today. I'm tired of the rain.
I have chocolate bars and midol. and a very small amount of pot. I'm trying to get through this the old fashioned way.
Tonight was the night of a thousand pork chops. and that looks like the only porking I'll be getting for awhile.
Life isn't fair. they should be REQUIRED to put out, ESPECIALLY when we are in HEAT.
goddamn.
this midol better kick in soon. before I commit crimes. dear lord.
and no one understands.
what a fucking day.
I think I'll just go cry. that might make it better. crying and chocolate.
goodnight, fuckheads.
PS: I hate my period.
edited to say: the shower is the perfect place to cry. I feel slightly better. fucking hormones.
song for the day:
In your empty bed
You remember every word she said
And every word rings in your head
Except, "I'm Sorry"
And when the dark comes down
Upon this stark and sullen town
Will all her ghosts still hang around
To wreck the party?
Caroline on the breeze
Whispering in the trees
You caught her like a disease
But they still haven't found the cure
She took what she could skive
With her transparent eyes
And she starved herself of everything
Money couldn't buy
Caroline
Another steel-gray dawn
You wonder whether to go on
When obligations linger on
As if you made them
You're so sick and tired
Of disinfectants, cops, and lawyers
All satan's angels are his choir
Sing Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Caroline on the bridge
Not allot left to give
Never mind what she did
She could only betray herself
She walked a crooked line
Led you deaf, dumb, and blind
And she compromised your
Confidence in every single crime
Caroline
and why is it so fucking hot in here?
I have an interview with a different staffing company tomorrow. let us all hope that something good happens. I need something good to happen.
it rained all day today. I'm tired of the rain.
I have chocolate bars and midol. and a very small amount of pot. I'm trying to get through this the old fashioned way.
Tonight was the night of a thousand pork chops. and that looks like the only porking I'll be getting for awhile.
Life isn't fair. they should be REQUIRED to put out, ESPECIALLY when we are in HEAT.
goddamn.
this midol better kick in soon. before I commit crimes. dear lord.
and no one understands.
what a fucking day.
I think I'll just go cry. that might make it better. crying and chocolate.
goodnight, fuckheads.
PS: I hate my period.
edited to say: the shower is the perfect place to cry. I feel slightly better. fucking hormones.
song for the day:
In your empty bed
You remember every word she said
And every word rings in your head
Except, "I'm Sorry"
And when the dark comes down
Upon this stark and sullen town
Will all her ghosts still hang around
To wreck the party?
Caroline on the breeze
Whispering in the trees
You caught her like a disease
But they still haven't found the cure
She took what she could skive
With her transparent eyes
And she starved herself of everything
Money couldn't buy
Caroline
Another steel-gray dawn
You wonder whether to go on
When obligations linger on
As if you made them
You're so sick and tired
Of disinfectants, cops, and lawyers
All satan's angels are his choir
Sing Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Caroline on the bridge
Not allot left to give
Never mind what she did
She could only betray herself
She walked a crooked line
Led you deaf, dumb, and blind
And she compromised your
Confidence in every single crime
Caroline
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
As long as you are posting cheerful lyrics I can give you a personal favorite from long nights of smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey in a basement with red lights on feeling forlorn and yet believing somehow you were being way cool by being that tortured.
I once loved a girl, her skin it was bronze.
With the innocence of a lamb, she was gentle like a fawn.
I courted her proudly but now she is gone,
Gone as the season she's taken.
Through young summer's breeze, I stole her away
From her mother and sister, though close did they stay.
Each one of them suffering from the failures of their day,
With strings of guilt they tried hard to guide us.
Of the two sisters, I loved the young.
With sensitive instincts, she was the creative one.
The constant scapegoat, she was easily undone
By the jealousy of others around her.
For her parasite sister, I had no respect,
Bound by her boredom, her pride to protect.
Countless visions of the other she'd reflect
As a crutch for her scenes and her society.
Myself, for what I did, I cannot be excused,
The changes I was going through can't even be used,
For the lies that I told her in hopes not to lose
The could-be dream-lover of my lifetime.
With unknown consciousness, I possessed in my grip
A magnificent mantelpiece, though its heart being chipped,
Noticing not that I'd already slipped
To a sin of love's false security.
From silhouetted anger to manufactured peace,
Answers of emptiness, voice vacancies,
Till the tombstones of damage read me no questions but, "Please,
What's wrong and what's exactly the matter?"
And so it did happen like it could have been foreseen,
The timeless explosion of fantasy's dream.
At the peak of the night, the king and the queen
Tumbled all down into pieces.
"The tragic figure!" her sister did shout,
"Leave her alone, God damn you, get out!"
And I in my armor, turning about
And nailing her to the ruins of her pettiness.
Beneath a bare light bulb the plaster did pound
Her sister and I in a screaming battleground.
And she in between, the victim of sound,
Soon shattered as a child 'neath her shadows.
All is gone, all is gone, admit it, take flight.
I gagged in contradiction tears blinding my sight.
My mind it was mangled, I ran into the night
Leaving all of love's ashes behind me.
The wind knocks my window, the room it is wet.
The words to say I'm sorry, I haven't found yet.
I think of her often and hope whoever she's met
Will be fully aware of how precious she is.
Ah, my friends from the prison, they ask unto me,
"How good, how good does it feel to be free?"
And I answer them most mysteriously,
"Are birds free from the chains of the skyway?"
Good times. The Trash man comes to cheer his friends up.