well then.

i'm feeling lethargic; it could be the $18 breakfast or my plan to drive to school today. i pull back from myself when i regress to a way i hate-
spending money
lazy
lazy
driving
driving while intoxicated
driving
lazy
spending money

i hate this cycle.

it could be the resin hit.

i am shiningly infatuated with you

oh, yes. how is it that i can get exactly what i've wanted?

- A hold has been placed on your entire account balance. For assistance, please contact customer service. -



welcome to hell.

consumed by you

how can i face it if it is trapped in my mind? i can't presume a way out. i only envision it, i can not actually see it. i am blinded by several things. all of these things i can easily consider as a problem. a reason. proof that i am wrong. it is hard to overlook those stares, those eyes, those mysteries that i recognize in myself. i am just intrigued by it, i think, understandably so. but i am scared to think that it could never happen. because, it could end up that way. end. end. i don't want this to end. i look forward to any inclination from you. because it makes me think about what could be so much harder. sometimes i love this dream world i create for my self.

ask me how i'm doing

the other day adrienne read my cards, and right next to my card, in the near future, was the death card. the other night, i was tripping, and by the end of the night i was just having a steady body high, although bob was upset with me. i started crying after i felt all these scabs on midnight's neck. i thought i had some sort of distorted yet accurate realization. since then i've passed off that thought, although i've noticed midnight is still acting god awfully weird. i'm worried, and maybe i shouldn't be, but there are still a myriad of things that are on my mind that have been bothering me.

i'm just bothered. worried. mostly worried. my mother is about to leave my father, and my older sister recently told my father about everything. my aunt recently told my sister about everything, causing such, and since then i've had this really sour feeling every time i go home. i've gone home twice as much in the past couple months than i have this entire year. my car will be the death of me. (speaking of such, i got into my first car accident the other day after i left parkgrounds. woe is me. . )

i've acquired a fake id. here it comes.

up the punx

r.i.p.
everyone in atlanta knew you. even the guy from texaco, who asked bob and i where the funeral service was going to be - even he had to go pay his respects. after your wake everyone came to jack's and they trashed the place, but it was well fucking deserved. mari was chain smoking the day after your death. death has such a weird, curdling effect, almost. the tears equal no amount of life learned and lived of you.

1963 baptême du feu

shamanism

i feel so nervous because i can see how it can be, but i am stuck with how it is. midnight is exponentially happier in my new house. i am too. my room is so big and i just want everyone i have ever loved to stay there with me. i love my dad so much and it makes me so entirely upset that my mother has never given him any credit. i made a promise to myself last night that i will never give myself up for someone. i see where i am going and i will not be clouded.

blonde wigs and red heads

i am sitting and drinking an overwhelming amount of coffee; i feel so collected yet sporadic, as if my ten various elongate rope creatures can't connect to my bones anymore, so i just kind of let them writhe out of their spockets; i need to accomplish eight things today and it seems i need to take inspiration from very boring creations which enlist zero creativity just because i need to feel at ease about things. too much stimulation by inherently stimulating people can distract me from my work, and right now i just need to especially focus on things like ghana's resource curse and my looming stressful week because oh lord that's how it goes. so it goes.

i am moving to grant park

the second coming

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

happy

niagra detroit

fucking in love with her.

/ / / the expanding earth

i think i trust myself.

if they say it is then it has to be but otherwise it might be nothing

whenever someone asks me how we are i say something along the lines of, "well, he's bob." and then i catch myself, think about it, and try to provide an answer. but "well, he's bob" doesn't actually mean anything when i say it. . . i don't mean it, i just usually have nothing else, really, to say because i haven't had the chance yet to really think about it. our relationship makes little sense to me. i am completely beyond my realm of comprehension. yet, i am physically putting myself through it. yet, i see no other way to live my life right now. yet, i want no other person to spend my time with.

and maybe i have reconsidered it in my mind, being with him. i have certainly fought with him, and i've certainly lost my wits about him. the other night we were arguing after wonderroot, we were both sort of drunk, but i convinced myself that i was not really (although i had completely forgotten the fact i pretty much finished the rest of the old russian handle to myself since it was so very within my reach) so my argument seemed more convincing. honestly, i can not even remember what the argument was about, and maybe it was even because i had felt so goddamn weird that night for multiple occasions (and so is life, really, i am not the person to steam about just because x or y was there, but i am conscious of it) so when we were back at my house, and i had already been mad at him at wonderroot, i started to cry and then i screamed and he tried to hold me, and calm me down, but i kept screaming, and i pushed him away. and then he got up, and said something about how i was crazy, how he doesn't do "this" (and by "this," well, really? i had to be a "this" like that? so what if i am crazy) and tried to leave. but i didn't want him to, and i realized that it made me cry harder, and to that i had to go up to him and hold him. somewhere i was almost sure he wouldn't leave, but nothing else existed because he might have left and that could have ruined me. and the way he looked at me kind of terrified me, his facial expressions were so pronounced because of his eyebrows, i think. maybe even the bull ring, too. he was fuming at me.



i could see the veins in his neck. but he stood at the doorway too long, his steps were faltered. he took too much time to leave. and then, he didn't leave. and we slept in the same bed together.

and i can already think of countless amount of times where he became upset with me. where we fought. but i seem to overlook it, each day. i am consumed. i see no way out.

cheers to your ability to overwhelm me. i am beginning to change you. you have changed me.

snobby joes

my life in songs, at the moment.

kimya dawson - so nice so smart

cub - my chinchilla

swans - beautiful child

i like giants, especially girl giants

listen, i do what i do and i'm not trying to impose on anyone. i've been doing what i do for a while now, so i don't really know why it bothers you so much.

whatever though. it's an annoying little bug.

where nobody loves you and nobody gives a damn

hardcore