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trying to make yourself happy doesn't work. listing happy things out does not work. trying to make OTHER people happy does not work.

sometimes what it takes is an imromptu game of catch, on a windy day, the kind that makes your ears ache, and you're wearing a skirt and as if it were possible for you to be any more awkward...

yes, you trip...
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humid days and clingy shirts, oh yes, neo-folk in the car and remembering rain and running and 3 a.m. and love.

aren't we just esoteric, then. three days, one minute. how many entanglements today.

haughty pretentiousness aside, I feel a-ok, and in case you are not here are some things that make me a little less angsty than usual and maybe if you think about...
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looks like rain. boy howdy, does it ever look like rain.

and iced tea and tiny dirty tomatoes.

today I've parted my hair on the side and.. I look like Hitler. which is probably why jerks in tan SUVs give me the finger, yes yes right? yes? and not because I cut them off when traffic was bad.

Hi Hitler, your little Mazda Protege is...
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I am disappointed in myself
for having improperly pluralized Jedi.

not that anybody else cares about such things.

today you could raise your arms around me and I could forget.

it's fucking Monday and I get to go grocery shopping, and I get to tend to my bowels, and I get to grind my teeth.

looks like things are comin' up Milhouse!

VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
frankmask:
Oh, so this is how your managed to get AT-AT humped.
admiraljack:
Nice flood pants.
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driving you home in flip-flops

or laughing with you about grammar or
robots that have been built and forgotten and

can they become Jedis?

beating you at crossword puzzles or drawing pictures of you with X's shaved into your sideburns

or lying in the grass with you, watching the sky and the spiky nascent trees, and taking pictures we will regret later.

trading stories about...
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it has recently come to light that I make a lot of sex type sounds in my sleep.

also, my room smells like cat piss. I am not digging this too solidly.

the final thing on the agenda is that I fucking hate you and don't know what your problem is.

my friend told me this morning that the apocalypse is very far off, if...
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rosscoe:
Sundays arent the best.. if it ws the apocalypse i think i'd probably go for a samurai sword as well as the gun option.

You can never be too prepared
admiraljack:
If during/after the zombie onslaught, you find yourself alone and being driven nuts by the isolation, hit 35W south to Albert Lea, head west on I90 until you find a small town named Alden. Follow the sound of gunfire and war cries. They'll lead to me.
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ugh, let's all hang out this weekend because I don't know what to do about my life.

that small matter. oh. and my new antibiotics are utterly ravaging my digestive tract. just so's you know.

fuckin nausea. and while we're on that topic, please look up the difference between "nauseous" and "nauseated". THIS IS ONE OF MY BIGGEST PET PEEVES. when people say nauseous when...
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alyk:
there are gas stations here called 'kum & go'...I'm totally being serious..
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so, how do you like the MAJOR TONSILLITIS RELAPSE?

I rain blood and mucus down on the infidels.

but I have new antibiotics, and on the way to the doctor's I listened to a lot of Queen and had the window down ((because of fever sweat)) and that made me feel happier about things.

a short story I wrote has been chosen for publication in...
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frankmask:
<Name> Was born in 1923 in Tazmania to a small tribe of Crimean War Revisionists. In the mid thirties she escaped from her twisted and heinous captors and was picked up off the coast by a Norwegian Whaling expedition that had decided that whales were really all right fellows, and instead decided to cart tourists around Oceana. She stayed with the crew for a few years before taking her leave in California. <Name> spent the war years the the 42nd Special Literary Operations Group attempting to decipher the secret of Nazi propaganda. After the war she was discharged and found a job as a junior editor at a very prestigious magazine that you've probably never heard of. In the mid sixties she left the magazine due to ideological conflicts and spent the next ten years as an activist for peace, eventually winding up in County Kerry, Ireland, of all the obscure places. The eighties were a fairly slow time, She toured as a public relations assistant with U2, invented those sneakers with pumps in them, and professionally heckled diet fads. By the early ninties, fed up the world, <Name> went into seclusion in Siberia, where she remained until 2002 when she came to Hamline in order to finish her degree.
alyk:
It wasn't love at first sight for you like it was for me? phhft...

I think your bio should go something like this: I was born a woman in a man's body...blah, blah, blah...sex change operation in sweden...blah...stitches almost all healed...blah

I don't know...something along those lines...
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several very important matters.

one. the day before Easter, my older brother found an M&M that said simply "I". somebody tell me if this means something, like, was this a cry for help, or, what.

is chocolate really better in color?

two. there is a distinct reason why Kelly is one of my favorite damn gorgeous bitches in the entire world. she is my thousands-of-miles-away-not-romantic-soul-mate-of-the-apocalypse....
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rosscoe:
hmm... well im more of a hugger than a slapper...
so here goes

*hugs*

wow.. and no emo-ness... thank god for that!
alyk:
I'm more than willing to slap you and pull your hair...just name the time and place... kiss
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the texture of oatmeal bothers me.
and the price of gas and

the number of chicken carcasses I have picked clean in my lifetime.

carcass looks a lot like Caracas.

I am in a constant state of flux, and I am on the brink of menstruation, and I am finding myself quoting people I thought I knew about only subconsciously.

I am not misplacing modifiers....
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admiraljack:
Sorry, I haven't a soul for yours to mate with. Sold it long ago.

....The teacher said no passes and I really needed a #2 pencil. Fucking Scantron tests.

[Edited on Mar 30, 2005 12:09PM]
inlikeflynn:
I've decided that I have a crush on your journal.
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I have half a bowl of hash browns for you, soggy and oversalted. I have this lingering sense of hysteria just below the surface.

I don't want to be worried about and I don't want to be clung to. I want to exist and I want that to be enough.

Justin thinks things are starting to balance out because he's kissing someone else. he's okay...
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alyk:
hmm...do you think there's a possibilty that you're just not in love with him anymore? I know it's hard because you still love him and care about him, but it seems to me that this is taking too much of an emotional toll on you...Is breaking up with him out of the question? kiss
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I like spring because
you can drive home with the windows open while listening to the white album and

dorks in SUVs will glare at you, and you will just be tangley and stoic, or you will stick your tongue out, because ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on.

then you roll your eyes at me because I am teh cheese.

conversations today are absolute shit....
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frankmask:
Sorry, but no. Tonight equals doings of Frank homework, goings of Frank to class, etc.
frankmask:
What? Yes. I am entirely dead. I shot myself in the toe with an RPG.