daekrys

Oh...yeah, the wording was a little weird. Although a landlady that acts like your mom is considerably worse...

Man, I just mentioned in my last journal entry that I am, sadly, not gay. So no coyote-lovins for me.

and that's the summary.

sad.

ok, since dustin left things have mellowed out. me and heather have decided to date, we are godamned fucking adorable, or at least i think so...but today i'm bringin tyler to school and then me and heather are goin job hunting, and gonna bring her to the place to help her get her GED too. then back to the crib for a little R&R, and some alone time, since for the last 4 days tyler has always been right there. finances are starting to balance out again too, so i'm glad. i'm actually happier right now then i have been in a long time, actually make that a really fucking long time. hugs and kisses for all!

Dude...I'm sorry. Didn't mean to rub your schedule in your face. Damned shame I don't have a car, or I would insist on driving over and visiting you at work...wherever you work...yeah, I just realized I don't know how the hell I'd find you. Nevermind.

Don't work too hard.

Beer = Good

I'm free if ian's not; I've also got a few triple blacks stowed away...



no, I'm not dating THAT psycho again. This one isn't psycho

[Edited on Oct 06, 2004 3:01PM]

Damn I'm sorry, but over dinner I took a serious look at my homework load, and it seems I'm going to have to raincheck on you. I hate doing the responsible thing.

But good luck with the vomiting.
That sounds so weird...

[Edited on Oct 06, 2004 4:51PM]

No... that's because your little brother keeps beating on your shit.

Pfft...

And no good deed goes unpunished. That's just the human condition, bro: that is, being consistently screwed. This is also why I'm a great believer in naps. You cannot, in spite of what they say, sleep when you're dead. Effin' liars.

It usually does. Not that I'm not curious.
Sorry about not commenting yesterday. Just seemed a tad too personal to be spouting off my concept of personal commentary.

you don't sound high, you sound familiar. you sound like words i've thought or written time and again. you sound like that attempt to capture the feeling that almost always falls short. you sound depressed. you sound so damn familiar. letting the fly walk on you. wanting to know what you're here for. what's with god? what is a sin? what is that desire for a connection with another? why??? you sound like you're in love. it's the dis-ease of being alive.

you asked about why i write. i write because i have to. if i keep all of that crap in my head.... i don't write unless i've something i need to write about. when i do, i must write it. i write whatever is on my mind. sometimes it is more coherent than others. it is never as beautiful as your romantic visions. they - they move me. there is nothing more i could say without tarnishing them further, so i'll stop.

So...no dumping her body in a dumpster? I suppose I'll get over that.

Friends are indeed back up. And I think someone should write a papers on the parallels between bondage and music. 1, 2, 3 not it!

you left such a beautiful comment in my journal and i've been trying to think of how to respond, and this seems to be the best i can do:

a love that is not given free, cannot help but end disasterously. boil the sea, bake the sand, melt the mountains and take my hand. in the dawn's faint light we might begin to see, that i am you and you are me.

I'm sorry!


Thank you for the welcome back!

Yeah...can't live with 'em, can't dump their bodies in a dumpster. Well, not legally.