kelland

Ice. Ice is staining me and leading down a path of no return. No one wants to see the ice evading from its concrete path, or the limbs of the trees heavy under the weight, or the front windshield sluggishly thawing itself out as you curse the minutes you'll be arriving late to work. I want the water to trickle into the living room of your humble abode, dampening the carpet and the precious antique furnishings. And I hope the damage racks up unthinkable sums of money, so that you can see the cold and the bitterness it brings. The ice can speak for itself, but it chooses instead to connive you with its glistening sheen and its shimmering appeal. Never again will I slip on the surface and refuse to help myself up.



I am listening to a beautiful CD my lover billyboy compiled for me with the fucking AWESOME headphones Generous G. McGivers someoneUK purchased for me out of charity. You guys are lovely. I have decided that I am going to move to California to live by the sea with billyboy and we will listen to Elliott Smith and eat vegetables all day long and compare our skinny legs, except he will win because my legs aren't that skinny. Once he has won that, we will compare who has a cooler pink coat, and I will win automatically because he doesn't own a pink coat in the first place. Then we will retire to a nice restaurant for the evening, and he will have a fine wine and I will have an orange juice, pulp included.

I made my friend Seth laugh a hardy laugh today. We were exiting Taco Bell. All of a sudden, he turned around and bent down, grabbing my legs and hoisted me straight up into the air, at which point I let out a horrendous ROAR (because I don't scream) from the shock. He then laughed about it uncontrollably upon entering Sara's car. It made me happy.

Kelland = the person that always speaks for the group.

I worked at the basketball game tonight with Seth, Sara, and Jessica. Sara and I were loitering around and looking at the money in the lock box majobber. I picked up what I thought to be a strange-looking $20 bill. It felt stiffer and thicker than real money, and the color was... odd. Sara and I both looked at each other with that classic "This money looks counterfeit!" look... you know, the one... anyway. So Sara marked it with this special marker dealy, the kind of marker dealy whose ink turns black on counterfeit bills. And what do you know? Shoot me down and call be Billy Bob -- it was counterfeit. We reported it and it turns out this guy we know tried to use the bill. Um. Weirdo. The cops had to question him and everything. Meanwhile, we just gossiped about it whilst eating hot dogs and drinking what those hip kids call "soda pop."

Today, the 19th, is my babe Jessica's birthday. times ten to her. I am going to her fun partay tomorrow, and I get to go SWIMMING IN A FUN HOTEL POOL! I'm excited mucho. Yay for me.

I hate it when people "borrow" styles from other people without giving them credit. When people do that, I just want to "borrow" a knife and "borrow" some of their time while I "borrow" little holes in their skin.

I feel the need to mention... I'm not really a violent person.

Today I heard that someone birthed some goats and then had an intense pizza craving afterwards. It made me laugh and I felt the need to write it down.



Sun. And the sun never seems to arrive on time these days anymore. It doesn't greet me with refreshments in the morning. No more breakfast in bed or mints on the pillow, and it rarely presses my clothes or splashes my face in an attempt to wipe my sleep away. I look to the sky and I feel lonely in the gloomy absence. I am bottling up the warmth and saving it for a day that it forgets to make an appearance. I no longer hide under the covers until the alarm sounds and the cat jumps on the bed, meowing in hunger. I wake at the sound of light and the sight of subtle greetings, and I realize it's not so bad without the sun glazing the surface of my bedspread, I just wish it would make more of an effort.