| my eyes hurt |
[May. 27th, 2004|11:22 pm] |
well, today was the last final i had to take.
tomorrow is the last presentation
the last day i have to be at john jay for about a month.
then summer classes
started reading SURVIVOR. it's just fabulous so far.
HOLLAH at the j-to-the-y-l-l. good times a'rollin this summah. oh yes.
my eyes hurt. honestly. |
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| vroom vroom |
[Feb. 23rd, 2004|08:56 pm] |
1992 CABRIOLET BLACK BODY BLACK TOP FOR SALE
4000 IS THE CURRENT PRICE
INTERESTED...DROP A REPLY.
EXCELLENT CONDITION- GREAT INTERIOR. 5-SPEED.
yeah, well, i need a security deposit for an apartment. so i gotta sell the baby. |
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| like a dog without a bone |
[Feb. 12th, 2004|02:31 pm] |
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it's so funny to watch people try to repare/create/fabricate relationships in order to prepare for the almighty valentine's day. i can't really say i haven't been doing the same, but hell, it's not for the sake of 2.14.04.
christ on a pony, what is wrong with this ball of water/land/creatures/flames/gas
and i’ve seen your eyes for days now
seen your eyes closed open fluttered tear filled
watching you sleep in sound under covers
i’m missing who were were
i’m missing who we’ll be
beneath layers of hopes and dreams you’ll
find me out of breath
in a fit of passion with no reason to outwit the wolves.
moral of the story: don't put your hand in a meat grinder, even if senia tells you to.
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| the essence of a belief... |
[Feb. 5th, 2004|06:24 am] |
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...is the establishment of a habit, and different beliefs are distinguished by different modes of action to which they give rise. -C.S Pierce
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| HOLY SHIT COLLEGE IS WHACK |
[Jan. 30th, 2004|11:09 am] |
at this very moment i am in my lit class and we are USING LIVEJOURNAL FOR OUR ASSIGNMENTS. good god. what is happening to the world.
i laugh, in concert, with the rest of the losers who are members of livejournal.
live long and prosper, you pathetic community of faux homosapiens.
this is hilarious. i pay ten thousand dollars a year to play on livejournal.com
and she speaks,
in phrases,
in fragments,
in heart. |
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| so incredibly disabled. |
[Jan. 23rd, 2004|02:10 am] |
wow. clubbing is the most ridiculous and monotonous thing EVER.
all i can ask is why, why, why did you people force me to spend my evening so lamely. i just bought a new book and you destroyed my planned love affair with it.
iwishicouldbesaneihaventeatensincesundaymymindisemptyyetsofullandimonprobationfromcalling.
i composed this on the back of a birthday card envelope in the parking lot of dunkin'donuts at 7am and i don't really give a shit if you think it sucks
((animosity and ecstasy)
on the brink of a third
fold in an unattainable
deck of cards
joker's wild
he's painting the town red
before too long it'll be
too far gone
she, queen of hearts, sleeps in
absolute
sleeps in cars, trains, buses
with a flowing gown about her ankles
and when they meet at a
4-way stop she smiles
and realizes that animosity
and ecstasy are at hand
in hand
pressing fingertips with fate
give her rings, giver her diamonds,
give him a script,
or something to call his own. |
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| she returns |
[Jan. 20th, 2004|09:49 pm] |
from nyc to nj to md to nc to sc to ga.
from factory, to corny thrift store, to river street, to the soul.
i have conquered the eastern coast, with my dearest ania.
fuck me, left the writing in the auto- will post later.
i miss georgia.
i miss sex.
i miss school.
i miss sleeping.
i miss albert einstein.
i miss ginsberg, and senia, and everything inbetween. oh wait, the two are adjacent. fuck.
oh well, it was worth a shot.
TO THE heARt.
yeah, so thanks for all the birthday calls and posts and whatever else cards, money, laughs. i'm glad to be home. (((((NOT)))))
go buy me porn and drop it at my house. i'm eighteen. whoo.
my parents bought me a gift certificate to fucking comp usa. what the hell. what the effin' hell. |
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| too tired to be clever |
[Jan. 13th, 2004|11:28 pm] |
work 11-7
BLT
Forum Diner; grilled cheese, coffee, water.
emotional relapse;
cannot fucking wait to get out of new jersey for
5 days
for
120 hours so little money, so worth the debt
for
4 work days
fuck financial comfort. i am so finished with habits.
for 8,200 minutes
who knows where we'll go, girl, we'll sleep 'til we crash
we'll make plans when we get there
maybe get some southern comfort. goddamniamsofuckinglonelyandpathetic
you will never ever call. you don't know what fun you're missing out on. |
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| and someday when i find the time i'm going to take over the literary world. |
[Jan. 12th, 2004|12:15 am] |
she's writing, she's writing a novel.
when the time is right i will explode
leaving behind
my coffee table,
my half-assed book collection,
and a double-tipped sharpie (unopened).
there's something about this freedom that scares me and makes me think i'm too far gone, but i'm not i'm not i'm not. i refuse to be underestimated. i refuse to stay in new jersey forever. and i refuse to lose my innocence via marriage license. i am like a premature child crying and kicking and skinny and cold and red in the face all shriveled up in a crib still crying even though the owners of that sperm and egg zygote whatever the hell love me dearly.
indeed, you are a pickle.
perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. |
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