i wonder if people are purposely trying to make a point to me or are just too obvious. not really, i just suspect the worst.
packing my bags. time is a drag. smell myself to make sure im still there. im alone in the dark, with a saber tooth shark and every pretty girl who broke my heart
Justice is a knee in the gut from the floor on the chin at a night sneaky with a knife brought up down on the magazine of a battleship sandbagged underhanded in the dark without a word of warning.
strange how days can be so up and then crash due to nothing but my own fault. damn myself. consolations are red pens, yossarian, and movies that i tape off tv and no one else appreciates. sometimes it seems convenient to become a terrible person. hi ho. anyone who hasn't read slapstick by vonegut is guilty of blasphemy.
people are funny. canned air is also funny, mostly because it can induce frostbite. today in art i had an unusual amount of fun making cards of color themes we used in printing. it seemed odd that it was more fun than the actual printing. probably because the class is ridiculous. but making a 3d fly is always neat by me. this is random and ridiculous, have a lovely day.
manoman. my house has been nonstop simon and garfunkel and "music of the islands" recently. it is neat. i have yet to figure out why i shake all over and lose my breath when i have to read things in front of the class. also, im no good at making stories (such as amy wieliczka. did i spell it right?!) so i resort to making obvious whats already there. the consistency is damn irritating.
don't you hate it when you try to go play in the rain only to find that it really isnt raining very hard and there are worms all over the sidewalk? although, i have to admit that i now feel like a fuller person, because i have seen someone eat a worm. i enjoy those nights when everything is completely awkward until a few hours later. suprisingly good times. but i do think its funny that i make up maybes in my head and make myself almost believe them.
i hate whole days when my throats tight and my eyes hurt and i hate how certain pictures or words make me ache all over. sometimes i wonder if i even care or if that matters. or if im numb or if everyones numb but me. when i was little i wondered if everyone else was robots and i was the only real one because i desperately want to know what the lady driving in the car next to me is thinking. but i can't. even though it all sounds terribly self-centered. even though we are supposed to relate to people, we can't really have any possible idea. and i feel like a hypocrite even thinking about people, but i know i would never want to know what people think about me. and no matter how much we may think someone is contrived, why are we always suprised to find even more.
