Ran into the ex last night...
yeah...
she wants me to call her...
yeah...
damnit...
I'll probably wind up doing that...
even after she chewed me up, spit me out, ground me under her heel and lied to me...
damnit...
need to find a job, so I can finish tattoos... tired of looking at outlines.
my poet-for-hire absurdist story has gotten bigger and the vampire story left my writer's group speechless last night, and not in a bad way. So, one good thing.
I have a bottle of smuggled russian vodka calling to me... mainly cuz I have a new added source of stress
to drink or not to drink... that should have been the question...
is blacking out is a viable form of therapy? Alcohol, in large enough quantities, is like drinking straight from the polluted portion of Lethe - which, if I remember my mythology is not always a good thing...
but! I would like to thank nicotine and the camel brand for helping me deal with the stress of the situation last night. I may have broken down and lost my new screws.
the dreams have begun again, and that bothers me more than anything else
In Lighter News
China, you owe me 10 dollars - I'm speaking directly to you Beijing!
You, that Russian Bum who stole my bottle of Jameson in near Sokolniki Station, you know what you owe me... another bottle of Jameson you slavic pinchpenny!
Stephen King, for reading one of your novels when I was twelve, you owe me the time wasted on your drivel - the same goes for Mercedes Lackey, Tolkien (but only on the Lord of the Rings, I still love the Hobbit), and Chuck Palaniuk, you owe me double.
George Lucas, you owe me somewhere around $16.50, to be paid with interest, at the door of Revenge of the Sith to make up for those two pieces of eye candy you called Prequels... I'd rather have typhoid than see that shit again. Oh, and you re-butched the original trilogy. I did not think it was possible to further maim them, but you sir, you showed me wrong.
I'm starting my own religion
no, not really
I did that
didn't work out
got boring in fact
and I might be rejoining one of my old bands... huzzah
back to the cave, the aliens may find me and force me to endure Anacondas if they fight me... all of those fucking Anaconda movies, not just the last one that managed to be far more crap than the first. Almost Cabin Fever bad... ugh
yeah...
she wants me to call her...
yeah...
damnit...
I'll probably wind up doing that...
even after she chewed me up, spit me out, ground me under her heel and lied to me...
damnit...
need to find a job, so I can finish tattoos... tired of looking at outlines.
my poet-for-hire absurdist story has gotten bigger and the vampire story left my writer's group speechless last night, and not in a bad way. So, one good thing.
I have a bottle of smuggled russian vodka calling to me... mainly cuz I have a new added source of stress
to drink or not to drink... that should have been the question...
is blacking out is a viable form of therapy? Alcohol, in large enough quantities, is like drinking straight from the polluted portion of Lethe - which, if I remember my mythology is not always a good thing...
but! I would like to thank nicotine and the camel brand for helping me deal with the stress of the situation last night. I may have broken down and lost my new screws.
the dreams have begun again, and that bothers me more than anything else
In Lighter News
China, you owe me 10 dollars - I'm speaking directly to you Beijing!
You, that Russian Bum who stole my bottle of Jameson in near Sokolniki Station, you know what you owe me... another bottle of Jameson you slavic pinchpenny!
Stephen King, for reading one of your novels when I was twelve, you owe me the time wasted on your drivel - the same goes for Mercedes Lackey, Tolkien (but only on the Lord of the Rings, I still love the Hobbit), and Chuck Palaniuk, you owe me double.
George Lucas, you owe me somewhere around $16.50, to be paid with interest, at the door of Revenge of the Sith to make up for those two pieces of eye candy you called Prequels... I'd rather have typhoid than see that shit again. Oh, and you re-butched the original trilogy. I did not think it was possible to further maim them, but you sir, you showed me wrong.
I'm starting my own religion
no, not really
I did that
didn't work out
got boring in fact
and I might be rejoining one of my old bands... huzzah
back to the cave, the aliens may find me and force me to endure Anacondas if they fight me... all of those fucking Anaconda movies, not just the last one that managed to be far more crap than the first. Almost Cabin Fever bad... ugh
ok, and why do you tease me? here are some indicators that you're hot:
your ex wants you to call her
you might be rejoining one of your old bands
you need a job, purely so you can finish your tattoos
you list pen and paper as your 5 items that you can't live without
here is an indicator that doesn't really help me figure out if you're hot or not:
your profile pic
hmmm. let's see.
i would use my superpower on you to call your image forth, but i think i shall save it for more dire needs. also, it's much more potent when we're actually in the same city, as opposed to in this virtual reality. or perhaps if i had a digital camera, i could work some magic... *prays to santa and all his elves* on that note, i am glad you were there for santa in his time of need. it really does smart to see your woman betray you. it's always a blessing when you find someone out there that will help you get back in touch with your creativity. even if it is only a distraction, or an outlet.