2004...lets see...yeah, it sucked.
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boring..biting my lip ring in my sleep and dreaming its bread
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Last night, the Jessy and I were kidnapped by a pack of skinheads* and dragged to some godawful truckstop in North Bumblefuck, IL, which is somewhere by Zion. We played mad libs.
As I was dropped at the door to my dad's house at 9:30am, I felt....tired.
Nooo!
I guess I'm not 17 anymore. I can no longer stay up for days straight doing nothing but roaming the roads of Northern Illinois with random guys. So sad...
*For those of you not familiar with Chicago skinheads, they aren't necessarily racist. Well, some are, but these dudes weren't. It mostly has to do with being working class and calling each other "brother".
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I had some wild dreams last night.
So in this one dream, I'm a fine arts major (HAHAHA!) and Columbia has cut the budget for the art department. So, as a fundraiser, the students whore themselves out. We turn an art room into a brothel. But...uh oh! A cop shows up. Some kids are arrested, but I'm not since I didn't turn any tricks yet. Then some girl fucks the cop and the arrested ones are set free.
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So..x-mas wasn't
too painful.
Took naked pictures of myself in the bathroom with the digital camera,
nearly died of greenbean casorole.
Didn't get any presents, but didn't give any, either.
Got to see my kitty, Bud who is fucking enormous, now.
There's lots of coffee here at my dad's house. Maybe I'll get some homework done.
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Break
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Why is it that I crave expensive coffee drinks?
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The Scorpio woman needs an arena where she can express her fighting spirit. She's not really a domestic creature, unless domesticity means periodically setting the house on fire.
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awwwwww!
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Some
thing so glassy
and blue I
cry the
bloody aspect of
spaghetti sauce
I hear each pop of
membrane
smell the
people on the
bus like
sesame
you mean
I have to leave
at 4:15?
I'm sagging deeply
under all this
fluff and skin
where does the dust come from
oh, hi
remember me?:
recycled coffee grounds and
something an
angel shat on
just too dizzy
just woke up
too soon
the warmness
will betray you
always
maybe
these walls were
white 10 years
ago
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No! Not tomorrow! *bawl*
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TOMORROW!
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My research paper on blogging and online journals:
http://onblogging.blogspot.com/
Craving all of your input!
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Look on the escelator wall of the Jackson Red Line stop..
"Pink and the Onions"
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Okay, so maybe I'm just tweaking from too much coffee, but did you see the side of the 33 Congress building? Look at the letters painted on it:
ia C...create change. Mix it up:
C ia...create change. THE CIA IS HERE TO CREATE CHANGE! I knew it! They're monitoring Columbia so they can keep an eye on the freaks and liberals.
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bluuuuuhhhhhhhhh
(the sound a hangover makes)
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If it was on the other side, then it would be my heart and if lower my ovary, higher my tit or my lung because I've been coughing so much- lotta coffee this afternoon, some Thai iced tea with my lunch and some really bad beer, other night with that boy who won't call me back whose fat cock I would like to dismantle and use to pry his eyes out...well, not really- it's just the uppers jolting me cranky, wringing my liver up into a ball of red glistening jelly jam, not like my gallbladder, no I'd feel that more in my back oh I just kinda overdid it- startled span of headache attention- my breathing is shallow- my liver, it stings...
what kind of moron OD's on caffiene!
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Whoopeeee!!!
The Thursday night lab crew has been featured on
Pat's site.
Give you a hint..I'm the one with the pink hair.
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Yesterday
Strange things to see on a Sunday:
-Crazy homeless man shouting loud on the el. His voice is just a low rattle beneath my headphone music of sappy 90's rock. I turn it down.
"Only 20 more days 'til christmas. Why do we celebrate Christmas?" he asks in a lecture/preacher tone.
The kid across from me shakes his head and shrugs, his glossy black curls swishing against his jacket.
"Some say it's the birth of Jesus Christ." the man goes on. "Merry Christmas...Merry Christmas..." he sings, deep and smooth. "Don't anyone remember the Nat King Cole Christmas album?"
-In the bookstore, standing in line. I hear "por qua" behind me and feel a rough nudge at my shoulder.
"Sorry." the French man says. He is yummy. Wide brimmed brown hat, brown leather jacket and tight jeans. He lights a cigarette, once outside with a sharp flick of a match.
-On State and Congress, I wait for the 147. A pick-up truck of screaming boys with their faces painted: orange X across the nose and cheeks and the rest blue, slows for the intersection. The boy in the passenger seat looks me in the eye and goes, "yeeeeeaaaaoooohhhhh!" his mouth stretched oval to its limit.
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Best of luck to Julie and Charlie
=)
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AS: where is the integrity in the zine world!!!
AS: ?
AP: it's busy fucking the integrity in the art world
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Fucking hell..
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Do crackheads and hookers seem like appealing neighbors?
Don't mind a few cockroaches here and there and in your shoes?
Love to hear crappy bands rehearse loudly?
Well...
They're offering a 200 dollar bonus, this month to any tenant in my building who refers a new tenant. And me, I'd like to buy some new clothes since all mine are falling apart.
In all reality, my buildings a pretty nice place to live. Not too expensive, right near the beach and the red line. Pleanty of bookstores and coffee shops and diners and bars to keep one occupied.
So, if you'd like to be my new neighbor, let me know so I can profit off you.
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Ohhh..you touch my
tralala..
(hi Mike)
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Bent to sip from a fountain. Static electricity through the water, zapping my lipring. I feel it light up silver, but not really.
That tickles!
Strange.
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Okay, so I didn't reach 50,000 words for National Novel Writing Month, continuing my 21-year losing streak at everything I have ever tried.. =)
I was mostly just using the month as an excuse to start a novel. Which I did. And will continue until you're plucking it off the shelf at your local bookstore.
Happy Hour
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