sebastian6

Four more years of Bush?

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

No offense, America, but I'm beginning to think you're fuckin' stupid.

When they mark the percentile ranking of the fodder for the masses, a green stripe will appear in the figures, clouding the judgement of numbers. Creativity sparked through math, math sparked through poetry, and the world keeps spinning.

It's rarely one or the other and yesterday was a good example. The weather yesterday- dark, rainy (mostly just sprinkly), cloudy, chilly, sullen. I loved it and I hated it. It was the best of times and the worst of times. Winter weather, especially the dark brooding nature of the season is both a blessing and a curse. Yesterday I felt a certain hopelessness from...
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Last night we watched Jan Svankmajer's Alice, which is a wonderfully visceral retelling of the Alice In Wonderland story. It was so much fun to watch it with kids around. I was worried they'd find its lack of cartoonish colour and cgi slickness a bit boring. But they were enraptured by the reality of the film. Svankmajer uses stop motion animation to bring everything from...
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Cheney is the Darth Vader of this Administration. He scares me.

Okay, so with this new set Synnove now has the cutest feet ever.

-s6

Well, well, well. The autumn promise is being fulfilled as I write this. Yesterday, walking down to the Trojan Horse for lunch with Rich, nothing seemed very different. It wasn't until I set out for my walk home that it because apparent that something had changed. I certainly had no business in shorts on my way home. But the chilled air and even chillier breeze...
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Why don't all you fuckers fuck off?

I am not gone...just no internet access at home right now. So I have to sneak peeks at all the nudey girls at work. And of course, read all your journals.

-s6

i'm simply bursting at the seams. this is what they call mania. and now that i have begun to sip my coffee, the rocket fuel is building into a nuclear reaction. i dance in my mind while the walking dead lumber around me, skulking into hidden offices to numb their skulls.

in a fit of life, the spasms and the fits turn into a sort...
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my mama is really my papa.

Who will hold your hand when you die?