this blog is not for the weak hearted.
and neither am i.
[youll need all you have to get me im sure. even then ill leave your fucking head spinning softly in idiocratic fashion.]
harumph. all the dreams im going to have tonight....... they better be careful not to make me mad. i get a little strange you see. and right now im all but in a sane way.
sardonic. my word of the day.
alton brown. my man of the day.
cleansing. my pointless attempt of the day.
sleep. my ending to said day.
my fingers are folding on themselves. im so tired and all i can see is wilted baby with paper skin and the gentle way his mother picked him up, all the while with the terrified im fucking stuck this is my life im fucking stuck fuck fuck fuck look in her eyes. it almost scared me you know? like tomorrow god will fuck me and give me a baby to string me along in a steady downward spiral with it as it falls blindly into life. oy. what a headache of a sentence. what a migraine of a thought. creepy. but i doubt god finds me any kind of fuckable so im really not tooooo worried you know? more just in a jovial type of blaspheming mood. heh.
your dream cake. tell me it. yes i said cake. no its not a trick question. oh for fucks sake.
[destruct. destruct. my head only knows single words sometimes.]
by tomorrow i may be stephanie the housekeeper. hmmmm. let the sexual deviance and petty theft begin. hee. maybe ill get one of those striped pink dresses. ugh. and my own cart. kill me. and a 75 year old trainer. woo.
went to nine lives today. scavenged the dog eared W magazines and drank cold dank coffee with the felines swooping down on my loose threads like starving mad[cats]. it was nice. being around books does something to me. like the pages are fluttering and the backs are cracks in the doorways. beckoning. yes.
abe posted a bulletin recently about chuck and neil and some kind of sick genius going on this very night. im all a tingle.
theres not much else to say.
im sure ill find something.
feathers should be on everything all the time and they should all be yellow.
time for bed little one.
[or time for loveseat. whichever.]