So last entry, I promised a "better" update.
Well, I'm not sure I can come through on that one. I'll certainly endeavor to make this one a bit more personable and informative than the last; but, as I said, I'm just not feeling paticularly wordy at the moment.
Pictures and a brief recounting of my trip to New Orleans can be found here: Part One and Part Two. Some of you have already seen them. I'm sorry for those folks who don't have MySpace, or have such an exagerated hatred for it that they can't supress a gag upon mention of its name, and certainly can't be bothered to visit the place to view my pictures.
Here is my new favorite picture of myself, by the way:
I haven't had my coffee yet, so I'm not quite human. Plus I've been having mood swings as unpredictable and inexplicable as the schitzophrenic weather around these parts. Right now it's dreary and raining and cold, last night I dreamt of hurricanes, and today I feel particularly down-trodden.
I'll catch up with everyone later.
Much love.
-Hyena.
P.S.: Early Evening Addition:
So I was talking to my dad the other day, and he asked me "Hey, wasn't (we'll call this guy "J.") really mean to you in highschool?" to which I replied, "Yeah, that dude's a fucking asshole".
Now, I didn't get picked on a terrible lot in highschool; I mean, probably the normal ammount for a wierd-looking kid, and then only really when I was a freshman. I was pretty well-liked and widely accepted by all sorts of cliques and categories throughout most of my school days. Hell, I was even prom queen. But there were a few people that couldn't get over the wierd-looking thing. "J." was one of them. He was always a dick to me. He rode my bus and would call me horrible names, throw shit at me, etc. I think once I punched him. I can't be certain. He was a jockish, dumb, druggie sort, so I never lost sleep over the fact that he chose me to antagonize. Oh, did I mention he was really, really dumb? And while I wouldn't wish death upon anyone (except of course, Jerrimiah, who killed Jules), he was definitely one of maybe five people throughout highschool that I could say I wouldn't be upset in the slightest if they were to, you know, cease to be.
"Well", my dad says, "he's dead". I'll be damned. My dad didn't know the specifics of the matter, however.
So, I get the following email from my dad today, titled "Dead Guy Update":
Well, I'm not sure I can come through on that one. I'll certainly endeavor to make this one a bit more personable and informative than the last; but, as I said, I'm just not feeling paticularly wordy at the moment.
Pictures and a brief recounting of my trip to New Orleans can be found here: Part One and Part Two. Some of you have already seen them. I'm sorry for those folks who don't have MySpace, or have such an exagerated hatred for it that they can't supress a gag upon mention of its name, and certainly can't be bothered to visit the place to view my pictures.
Here is my new favorite picture of myself, by the way:
I haven't had my coffee yet, so I'm not quite human. Plus I've been having mood swings as unpredictable and inexplicable as the schitzophrenic weather around these parts. Right now it's dreary and raining and cold, last night I dreamt of hurricanes, and today I feel particularly down-trodden.
I'll catch up with everyone later.
Much love.
-Hyena.
P.S.: Early Evening Addition:
So I was talking to my dad the other day, and he asked me "Hey, wasn't (we'll call this guy "J.") really mean to you in highschool?" to which I replied, "Yeah, that dude's a fucking asshole".
Now, I didn't get picked on a terrible lot in highschool; I mean, probably the normal ammount for a wierd-looking kid, and then only really when I was a freshman. I was pretty well-liked and widely accepted by all sorts of cliques and categories throughout most of my school days. Hell, I was even prom queen. But there were a few people that couldn't get over the wierd-looking thing. "J." was one of them. He was always a dick to me. He rode my bus and would call me horrible names, throw shit at me, etc. I think once I punched him. I can't be certain. He was a jockish, dumb, druggie sort, so I never lost sleep over the fact that he chose me to antagonize. Oh, did I mention he was really, really dumb? And while I wouldn't wish death upon anyone (except of course, Jerrimiah, who killed Jules), he was definitely one of maybe five people throughout highschool that I could say I wouldn't be upset in the slightest if they were to, you know, cease to be.
"Well", my dad says, "he's dead". I'll be damned. My dad didn't know the specifics of the matter, however.
So, I get the following email from my dad today, titled "Dead Guy Update":
I talked with ----- this morning (he played baseball at SWHS with "J.") and he told me...[that "J."]...told his girlfriend he was going to pick up a pizza and never came home. They found him dead in a gas station restroom with a heroine needle still in his arm..............moral of story? When picking up fast food ....pee before leaving home!
I love my dad. And while I am sorry for the people who loved and cared about "J.", I must say, it was a fitting end.
-HH.
VIEW 17 of 17 COMMENTS
You consider yourself weird looking? How come? You look great.
So how was NO? Maybe I'll try and get out there for halloween.