| This would be so much easier if I were a lesbian. |
[Nov. 27th, 2005|03:17 pm] |
| [ | I'm about to kill you because I'm feeling |
| |  pissed off | ] |
I am so FUCKING tired of men who complain about all the women who have fucked them over, and then go and fuck ME over. You hypocritical bastards, I don't even know.
I am so fucking tired of men. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 20th, 2005|10:38 pm] |
|
Sometimes I'm afraid of my own humanity. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 5th, 2005|05:48 pm] |
If anyone has msn out there, add me. comical_tragedy@yahoo.com. <3
Life continues to inch along. Daily grind. Weekends are ridiculously short.
Trying to apply for universities. On some days this is refreshing and new and exciting and on others it's just fucking scary.
Whole foods today. <3 Saw John, and that was interesting. I think he and I are a literal representation of a "love/hate relationship." For the five years that I've known him, we've teased each other, messed with each other, and beat each other up, yet still managed to hold this abstruse... fondness for one another that I can't say I've had with anyone else in my life. (However, this wasn't enough to stop me from dumping an entire half-liter of soda on him for calling me a hooker the other day.) But nonetheless, I saw him today, and he told me that Scott had died. And we talked for a while. I don't think we've ever had a conversation that didn't involve us degrading one another in the entire span of our relationship. We had an actual discussion, like friends do, and it was strange, referring to him as a "friend," as opposed to, "That asshole!" But, seeing as how he just IM'd me to make the general derrogatory statement, I'd say our relationship hasn't changed.
Veronica is out of pocket and out of touch. She told me that she had moved out, a spur of the moment thing. She's 24, I shouldn't worry about her, but I do. She's like me, like the future version of me, or maybe even the present. An impulsive, stubborn girl who doesn't think things through, but the difference between her and I is the fact that she can frequent bars and I can't. Anyway, I didn't see her Monday or Wednesday, Lara said she hadn't heard from her either, and that she hasn't been to class and maybe she's ashamed because she got so drunk sunday night, but that's really no reason not to show up at school.
I hope she calls me, at least to confirm her existance on the face of the earth.
Anyway, I'm gonna close this up.
Kat and I are going poetry shopping tonight, and hopefully to see Zorro.
Is that Johnny Cash movie out yet? |
|
|
| I need some coffee. Bad. |
[Oct. 19th, 2005|11:56 am] |
You and me. Lets go. We'll take a car. Your car, I don't have one, but I can drive it. We can take off, just go, we don't need maps. Signs are simply suggestions, speed limits and destinations only recommendations. We won't bring much; only a few basic things, clothes, food, some beer, my guitar, your voice, my mind... but I don't want to carry around the baggage from our former lives. Together we can break the dam that separates thought from tongue and fade off into some incandescent horizon. You can talk, I can listen.
We can take a train to nowhere. Ditch the car, it costs to much to fill it up with chemicals. We can bleed off into another polluted sunset, nothing to stop us, not material desperation nor physical perfection. We can go anywhere, with anything, on anything. Everything. We can watch the stars bloom and the sky flower into violet waves, fabulous roman candles exploding across our eyes, there are no limits, it only takes a voice, or even a touch. We have no inhibitions. We like to feel.
Let's write poetry. It's not the words you have, it's what you see. We can let our minds dance across heavy parchment, leather bound books, monuments, even. Bathroom stalls. Each other. I want to carve my visions into your chest. I want to make you bleed with my words.
Let's dress up. We don't have to go anywhere, we can just stay at home. Wherever that is. I could be a nymph. A faerie. You could be a dragon, or a beast with ravenous claws. And I'd let you tear me apart with your mouth or your words. We can dream. I have a pair of rose tinted glasses you can borrow, they'd fit you just right. You could be my muse. I could paint you naked with birds across your shoulder and vines curling across your arms, phosphorescent blossoms blooming in your eyes and kingdoms crumbling to dust from your fevered touch.
Lets have pancakes and gin at midnight. Later we can sleep on the beach, if we sleep at all, we can wake up to the tide kissing our toes and a crimson sunrise dusting our shoulders. And in the morning we can just walk, we can steal fresh apples from orchards, or even just a fruit stand, we won't take much. We won't need greasy fast food or fat soaked meat subsitutes, although perhaps at times. We're not picky eaters, we like to taste things.
Let's dance. I'll teach you how to mambo, swing, and tango. We can make our own music, or meet up with a traveling musician with a magic hat. We could stand out in a shaded courtyard and step lightly across worn bricks and fallen leaves, or a parking lot, depending. We could let people throw money at us, later we can spend it on thrift store lingerie, prayer beads, a bicycle, or champagne that's much too rich. Yes, I'll teach you how to dance.
You and me. Let's go. Right now. We don't have to plan anything. I can take us anywhere, you just have to promise to endure me and to keep coming up with new ideas. The best tickets are always one way. It doesn't matter where, let's just go, let's take off, across the world or across the block. Just as long as we're going, going somewhere, somewhere new. |
|
|
| I fucking love this poem. |
[Oct. 18th, 2005|04:23 pm] |
The Wasteland
T.S. Eliot
[Eliot's poem is prefaced by a quote from the 1st century A.D. Satyricon of Petronius] in Greek and Latin. It translates roughly as "I saw with my own eyes the Sibyl at Cumae hanging in a cage, and when the boys said to her 'Sibyl, what do you want?' that one replied 'I want to die'.]
For Ezra Pound,
il miglior fabbro. [the better craftsman]
I. The Burial of the Dead
April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee* [A lake near Munich]
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten*, [A park in Munich]
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.* ['I am not Russian at all,
And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke's, [I am a German from
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, [Lithuania']
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in winter.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Frisch weht der Wind* ['fresh blows the breeze from the homeland']
Der heimat zu
Mein Irisch kind,* ['my Irish child, why do you wait?']
Wo weilest du?
"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;"
"They called me the hyacinth girl."
--Yet when we came back, late, from the hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Oed' und leer das Meer. ['waste and empty is the sea']
Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Has a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor.
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something that he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself;
One must be so careful these days.
Unreal City
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet,
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying, "Stetson!
You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,
Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
You! hypocrite lecteur!--mon semblable!--mon frère!"
II. A Game of Chess
The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Glowed on the marble, where the glass
Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
From which a golden Cupidon peeped out
(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)
Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra
Reflecting light upon the table as
The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,
From satin cases poured in rich profusion.
In vials of ivory and colored glass,
Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,
Unguent, powdered, or liquid--troubled, confused
And drowned the sense in odors; stirred by the air
That freshened from the window, these ascended
In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,
Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.
Huge sea-wood fed with copper
Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone,
In which sad light a carved dolphin swam.
Above the antique mantle was displayed
As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene
The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king
So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale
Filled all the desert with inviolable voice
And still she cried, and still the world pursues,
"Jug Jug" to dirty ears.
And other withered stumps of time
Were told upon the walls; staring forms
Leaned out, leaning, hushing the world enclosed.
Footsteps shuffled on the stair.
Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair
Spread out in fiery points
Glowed into words, then would be savagely still.
"My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
"Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
"What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
"I never know what you are thinking. Think."
I think we are in rats' alley
Where the dead men lost their bones.
"What is that noise?"
The wind under the door.
"What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?"
Nothing again nothing.
"Do
"You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
"Nothing?"
I remember
Those are pearls that were his eyes.
"Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?"
But
O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag--
It's so elegant
So intelligent
"What shall I do now? What shall I do?"
"I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
"With my hair down, so. What shall we do tomorrow?
"What shall we ever do?"
The hot water at ten.
And, if it rains, a closed car at four.
And we shall play a game of chess,
Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.
When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said--
I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself,
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME* [British call-out at pub closing time]
Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.
He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you
To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.
You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,
He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.
And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert.
He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time.
And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said.
Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said.
Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look.
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said.
Others can pick and choose if you can't.
But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling.
You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.
(And her only thirty-one.)
I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face,
It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.
(She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.)
The chemist said it would be all right, but I've never been the same.
You are a proper fool, I said.
Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said.
What you get married for if you don't want children?
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,
And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot--
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight.
Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.
Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.
III. The Fire Sermon
The river's tent is broken; the last fingers of leaf
Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind
Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.
Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends
Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.
And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors;
Departed, have left no addresses.
By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . .
Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,
Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.
But at my back in a cold blast I hear
The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.
A rat crept softly through the vegetation
Dragging its slimy belly on the bank
While I sat fishing in the dull canal
On a winter evening round behind the gashouse
Musing upon the king my brother's wreck
And on the king my father's death before him.
White bodies naked on the low damp ground
And bones cast in a little low dry garret,
Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year.
But at my back from time to time I hear
The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring
Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.
O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter
And on her daughter
They wash their feet in soda water
Et O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!
['And oh, the voices of the children singing in the dome!']
Twit twit twit
Jug jug jug jug jug jug
So rudely forc'd
Tereu
Unreal City
Under the brown fog of a winter noon
Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant
C.i.f. London: documents at sight,
Asked me in demotic* French [vulgar]
To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel
Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.
At the violet hour, when the eyes and back
Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits
Like a taxi throbbing waiting,
I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives,
Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see
At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives
Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,
The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights
Her stove, and lays out food in tins.
Out of the window perilously spread
Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays,
On the divan are piled (at night her bed)
Stockings, slippers, camisoles and stays.
I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs
Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest--
I too awaited the expected guest.
He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
A small house agent's clerk, with a bold stare,
One of the low on whom assurance sits
As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
The time is now propitious, as he guesses;
The meal is ended, she is bored and tired.
Endeavors to engage her in caresses
Which still are unreproved, if undesired.
Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
Exploring hands encounter no defense.;
His vanity requires no response,
And makes a welcome of indifference.
(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all
Enacted on this same divan or bed;
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
And walked among the lowest of the dead.)
Bestows one final patronizing kiss,
And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .
She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
Hardly aware of her departed lover;
Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
"Well now that's done, and I'm glad it's over."
When lovely woman stoops to folly and
Paces about her room again, alone,
She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
And puts a record on the gramophone.
"The music crept by me upon the waters",
And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.
O City city, I can sometimes hear
Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
The pleasant whining of a mandoline
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
Inexplicable splendor of Ionian white and gold.
The river sweats
Oil and tar
The barges drift
With the turning tide
Red sails
Wide
To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.
The barges wash
Drifting logs
Down Greenwich reach
Past the Isle of Dogs.
Weialala leia
Wallala leialala
Elizabeth and Leicester
Beating oars
The stern was formed
A gilded shell
Red and gold
The brisk swell
Rippled both shores
Southwest wind
Carried down stream
The peal of bells
White towers
Weialala leia
Wallala leialala
"Trams and dusty trees.
Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew
Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees
Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe."
"My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart
Under my feet. After the event
He wept. He promised `a new start.'
I made no comment. What should I resent?"
"On Margate Sands
I can connect
Nothing with nothing.
The broken fingernails of dirty hands
My people humble people who expect
Nothing."
la la
To Carthage then I came
Burning burning burning burning
O Lord thou pluckest me out
O Lord thou pluckest
burning
IV. Death by Water
Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, the deep sea swell
And the profit and loss.
A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth,
Entering the whirlpool.
Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.
V. What the Thunder Said
After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience
Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even solitude in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
From doors of mudcracked houses
If there were water
And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water
A spring
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But here there is no water
Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead, up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you,
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
--But who is that on the other side of you?
What is that sound high in the air
Murmur of maternal lamentation
Who are those hooded hordes swarming
Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth
Ringed by the flat horizon only
What is the city over the mountains
Cracks and reforms and bursts in violet air
Falling towers
Jerusalem Athens Alexandria
Vienna London
Unreal
A woman drew her long black hair out tight
And fiddled whisper music on those strings
And bats with baby faces in the violet light
Whistled, and beat their wings
And crawled head downward down a blackened wall
And upside down in air were towers
Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.
In this decayed hole among the mountains,
In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.
It has no windows, and the door swings,
Dry bones can harm no one.
Only a cock stood on the rooftree
Co co rico co co rico
In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust
Bringing rain
Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves
Waited for rain, while the black clouds
Gathered far distant, over Himavant.
The jungle crouched, humped in silence.
Then spoke the thunder
DA
Datta: what have we given?
My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment's surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract,
By this, and this only, we have existed,
Which is not to be found in our obituaries
Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider
Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor
In our empty rooms
DA
Dayadhvam: I have heard the key
Turn in the door once and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each confirms his prison
Only at nightfall, aethereal rumors
Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus
DA
Damyata: the boat responded
Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar
The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
To controlling hands
I sat upon the shore
Fishing, with the arid plain behind me
Shall I at least set my lands in order?
London bridge is falling down falling down falling down
Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina
Quando fiam uti chelidon--O swallow swallow
Le prince d'Aquitaine a la tour abolie
These fragments I have shored against my ruins
Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe.
Da. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
Shantih shantih shantih
T. S. Eliot |
|
|
| And if you tell me yours I'll tell you mine |
[Oct. 6th, 2005|01:12 pm] |
| [ | I'm about to kill you because I'm feeling |
| |  tired | ] |
| [ | Jammin out to: |
| | Missy Higgins- The Sound of White | ] |
It's funny how a pair of cheap purple sunglasses can make everything better, even if only for a little while.
When rocks or other sediments are carried into any body of water- ocean, river, stream, lake- the movement of the water will eventually cause the edges of the rock to "round off" (which is why you rarely find square or "edgy" stones at the bottom of a river), and over a period of time, the rock will wear down and eventually desintigrate. This happens to everything from pebbles to boulders to people, and this phenomenom may have something to do with why Victoria was standing on her stairs suffering a full scale emotional breakdown at roughly 2:27AM this morning. I'm pretty sure I freaked the hell out of my father, who was probably thinking, "Wtf. I'm not letting her use the car at 2:30AM, and she's crying." Yeah. Long story short, there was no one to call, nowhere to go, and I ended up letting my mother shove some pills down my throat (figuratively) so I could just sleep. This is what happens when you smile and say nothing is wrong for a long enough time.
I know I haven't updated in a while. I suppose it's because I don't want to keep whining, even though I am. It's so damn easy to wallow. And I'm good at it. The weathers a little too good to be so down, it's not so hot anymore, and it's sunny and pleasant.
Damn you.
My mother is very, very angry at me, and I'm sure you will be too, random friend who is reading this. And I suppose she has the right to be, so I'm not blaming her for that. Actually, I suspected her to be more hurt than mad, but the she's always suprising me. I think I'm mostly mad at her for being so mad... this is pretty immature, I know. But honestly, the woman hasn't threatened to hit me since I was what, seven? This was a shock. And yes, I'm going to continue to be obscure about this. Anyway, this isn't her problem. (Hah, I've said this to her for as long as I can remember for just about everything, but this is the first time I think that it's really, honestly, true.) I need to get over this, I need to stop, and the only person who can do so is me. Entirely me. Maybe that's half the reason I'm doing it.
In other news, my birthday is in 5 days. I guess I've been subconsciously counting down to it. Like maybe things will change afterwards, that I'm another year older, that I'm still- by some stroke of divine luck- alive, that things will be different and better just because I get another candle on the cake. They probably won't, but I like looking forward to something. Cassi is taking me to White Rabbit to see some obscure band, and I'm excited for that, even though I've never heard of them. I miss going to school with her, seeing her every week, goofing off in class and still managing to, miraculously, pass. I wish she'd go to college. I know I'm probably the last person who should be talking about making the right decisions for the future, but she's destined for more than a entry level position behind a cash register.
I really want to start writing again. God, I haven't written anything in ages. It's just everything I pump out seems so empty, so one-dimensional. Forget leaving, I think my muse committed suicide. The bastard didn't even leave a note. >>;
But a few good things happened, aside from getting purple sunglasses, that I thought I might share, although they're incredibly mundane. The other day I -finally- replaced my drivers liscence, and I'm ashamed to say I've been driving illegally for over a month. This is step numero uno in getting a job.
Victoria also discovered a (purple) vintage recordstore, and it's loaded with all this good stuff, all the oldies, all the classics. Vinyl, baby.
I filled out a few more applications at x number of places, and I'm going to start paying for my textbooks and saving up for a car. Yes, I'm going to actually start being fiscally responsible, and no, hell hasn't frozen over.
I have "The Right to Remain Silent" stuck in my head, and it's killing me because I have no earthly idea as to who sings it.
Also, I need to clarify my stance on Organic Evolution.
This weekend I think I'm just gonna get really trashed.
<3/victoria
----
Let's take the train to anywhere
I wanna feel the wind in my hair with you.
Let's tell them all, that soon they'll know
How very wrong they were to think we'd never go,
And if you tell me yours I'll tell you mine
And we will clean the cobwebs out of one anothers minds.
Don't ever say you've tried to leave me in this life
Don't ever say you've tried for the last time.
We'll get a house where the trees hang low and pretty little flowers
On our window sill will grow
We'll make friends with the milk man and the butcher Mr. Timms
Will give us discounts when he can,
And if you tell me yours I'll tell you mine,
And we will clean the cobwebs out of one anothers minds.
Don't ever say you've tried to leave me in this life
Don't ever say you've tried for the last time
LA DI DA DI DA...
Don't ever say you've tried to leave me in this life
Don't ever say you've tried to leave me in this life
Don't ever say you've tried for the last time... |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 21st, 2005|09:47 am] |
| [ | I'm about to kill you because I'm feeling |
| |  blah | ] |
| [ | Jammin out to: |
| | The Cranberries- Everyone Else is Doing it So Why Can't We? | ] |
9AM. A little too early for consciousness.
Saturday- Met up with Amber & company at Centennial Hall for dahncing. Mostly sat around and chatted with x number of random people. They need to change the music, because if I have to line dance to "She thinks my tractor's sexy" one more time I swear to god. I swung dance maybe a few times, fell on my ass more than a few times. (Because you know I'm the epitome of graceful.) Laughed at John for getting his shoelaces tied together, laughed at Leslie for being the biggest fucking otaku the anime world has ever seen, got laughed at for "looking like a smurf." Got home at roughly 2.
Sunday- Dragged my lazy ass up for church. Acolyted. Didn't light candles correctly. Swore a little too much. Forgot DnD. Worked on homework & slept.
Monday- Class all day. Made an 84 on my lecture test, which is pretty good seeing as how well I "studied." (And by "studied" I mean "didn't study.") He's grading on a curve, I'm still wftconfused as to how all that works (despite how many times it's explained to me,) but it gave me an extra 10 points and I'm not complaining. Walked to Hogwild in 1093485 degree weather with a 500 pound backpack in between classes where I bought sleazy punk buttons for Kelsey & obscene political bumper stickers for myself. Didn't have enough cash for lunch. Instead bought my tiny little deep fried cocks, (Twinkies =D) to eat during class.
Tuesday- Slept til noon. Yelled at for sleeping til noon. Yelled at for not having an A in geology. Yelled at for having a messy room Yelled at for having a trashy bathroom. Yelled at for not refilling the car. Escaped to Asels to partake in 50% off sale, with money I didn't have for art supplies I already have enough of. <3 Bought a totally wtfpwn sketchbook.
Wednesday- Woke up at roughly 6:45 to go with the mama to school. Did a pretty half assed job in completing my Latin. Taught, or rather attempted to teach, and 8 year old how to read. God, I don't even remember learning how to read. She was difficult and stubborn and would rather have flipped through my CD collection than pay attention,(At least she couldn't read the lyrics.) She kept guessing words instead of reading them, if a word started with a "b," she would rattle off every word she knew that started with "b." This may explain why my mother is insane.
Later, class again. Must turn in paper I haven't completed. Geo test Friday. Haven't studied nearly well enough/at all for it.
Now- to staple assignments to classroom bulletin board.
Joy and Elation. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 11th, 2005|11:46 am] |
| [ | I'm about to kill you because I'm feeling |
| |  stressed | ] |
I hate church. It's not really a religion thing.
I told my mom I had a cramp. She was pissed anyway.
I hate church. I hate waking up early and feeling bad and yelling at x person for x thing. I hate throwing on a dirty shirt that smells of stale nicotine and spraying sticky sweet perfume on it because I sleptsmokedspilledsomethingonit. I hate looking like crap because I can't get up early enough to look good. I hate how I have to wear heels instead of flip flops and I hate how my skirt is too short or my pants are too low. I hate how it's always cold, how the pews are hard, how hard it is to sit down and stand up and read this and pray this. How the communion wine makes my mouth feel. It's too early for alchohol. I hate the way it burns my throat. I hate how I can't sing. I hate how my mind wanders and I think about things I shouldn't. How we're strangers now. How could we have been lovers if we can't be friends? Were we ever? Did we just pretend for all that time? God knows I was pretending. Should we just ignore it? Pretend it never happened? Would that work? We are different now. We are strangers. I'm trying not to think. Sit down stand up read this pray this sing this don't think about this.
Maybe I'm being overdramatic and pretentious.
I have a cramp. |
|
|
| ... |
[Sep. 10th, 2005|08:15 pm] |
| [ | I'm about to kill you because I'm feeling |
| |  lonely | ] |
| [ | Jammin out to: |
| | doctors of deliverance - crooked fingers | ] |
Yesterday. That's it, throw on a pair of dirty jeans and the same shirt you've been wearing for three days. Ignore the stains. Fix the collar. Button it all the way up. Breath. Rush out the door, you can put your makeup on in the car. You're late, you're running late. There's not time. You're late. Don't even bother arguing with your sister over the radio stations, just keep the damn liquid eyeliner straight. Is it bad to put on makeup while driving? Compromise by doing it (mostly) at stoplights. Yes, your eyemakeup is half an inch thick now. One would think that for someone as good as drawing as you are that eyeliner would be a no-brainer. Mascara. Mascara can fix it all. A good makeup job can fix it all.
SAC downtown campus. I actually know people who go here so this is a good thing. Late math class. Joy-and-elation. /sarcasm. Amber rushes toward me as I pull the car up and she immediately starts babbling on about how steven is a jackass, (he is) daniel was staring at her chest, (he was,) she needs more opportunities to get drunk (she doesn't.) I smile. This is good for me. She is good for me. We walk arm in arm to class where we sit together in the back row (despite my insistance that it would be a better idea to sit in FRONT rows.) The professor introduces herself. She's rather absent minded, but a nice lady and doesn't seem too picky. She talks about math, geometry or something. Pretty basic stuff. She doesn't explain things very well, though, just describes the terms as opposed to defining them. As in, "A point has no dimensions and is so small you can't see it." Which is basically a contradiction, because if something is "so small" then it has to be a size, and she basically said that a point wasn't a size... and I suck so bad at math. So Amber is like, "Victoria-whats-a-point." I open my mouth to call her a blonde before I realize that I have no idea what the professor is talking about either. I patch together a lousy explanation based on like, 6th grade geometry that a point doesn't actually exist and that it's more like a place than an actual tangible thing or something. Oh, and the textbook sucks, too. It's full of trick questions, such as, "How many points lie within this plane?" And I'm like, "Well, an infinite amount," and I mark that. AND IT'S WRONG. Because, apparently, it was asking the number of points designated inside the plane. In this case, Point "A" and Point "B." But the teacher is real understanding about it.
Even though I'm a gonna fail.
Whoo. Student center. Where are the pool tables. D: I watch Jeff kick my ass in DDR 9823974 times instead of playing nine ball, let Autumn pick on me, yell at John for throwing a doorstop at me and argue with Amber over whether the guy sitting in front of us was hot or not. (Yeah, cos I could totally tell from the back of his head. /sarcasm.) Maybe I'm just bitter. I buy popcorn and cheap greasy food, and thus follows with the irresponsible use of a fooseball table.
I totally almost came close to killing myself driving home, but not close enough to killing myself that I actually turned down the radio. Because we all know how cool it is to headbang to 80's power ballads! :D
So I came home and my mom yelled at me for something I can't recall, then left, and I was going to go hang out with Kelsey, but didn't have a ride. So instead I spent the evening online and of course nobody with a life is on, save for maybe one cool person, and IRC is dead, of course.
This morning I woke up at noon, cleaned the house and did some homework. I hate school. I'm trying to keep occupied and not think too much, I guess.
tata. <3 |
|
|
| If you don't see me online tomorrow, it's because I've died of mortification. |
[Sep. 6th, 2005|10:45 pm] |
| [ | I'm about to kill you because I'm feeling |
| |  embarrassed | ] |
| [ | Jammin out to: |
| | Eclipse- Pink Floyd | ] |
Ok, wow. I think I had the most mortifying moment of my life and I think I’m just going to go die now.
( Shoot me. Now. )
In other news, today sucked. I hate sewing so much, I don't even want to -write- about it.
However, I'd like to thank you for the comment on the last entry. I really needed it, I really did and it means a lot to me, you don't even know how much it helped me get through today. <3
You know who you are. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 3rd, 2005|04:10 pm] |
| [ | I'm about to kill you because I'm feeling |
| | busy | ] |
| [ | Jammin out to: |
| | The Eagles - Hotel California | ] |
Geology test next wednesday. At least I'm taking good notes. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 2nd, 2005|12:10 pm] |
| [ | I'm about to kill you because I'm feeling |
| |  Frozen Stiff! | ] |
| [ | Jammin out to: |
| | SOME ANGRY EMO SONG BY NICKELBACK. <3 | ] |
my, my you're just like eggs
you're all slimy on the outside and yolky in the middle
wait a second, that's not right, what i really meant
is that i love you in the morning
My fingers are so cold they hurt and small children frighten me.
( Here are some pretty things to look at. )
And I love you Jess, for commenting all over my ass. <3 |
|
|
| How many elements are in copper? |
[Aug. 31st, 2005|10:38 am] |
| [ | I'm about to kill you because I'm feeling |
| | i'msuchadork. | ] |
| [ | Jammin out to: |
| | Lou Reed : New York Album [Romeo Had Juliette] | ] |
Well, I admit- I’ve been avoiding updating this thing for a while now. I don’t really have anything to write about. It must be terribly boring for those who do. I look at my homepage and I just don't see the point … all my posts look the same, the only comfort is when people post and read and comment, because the only reason I really keep this site is for friends. shweet friends.
I was so blonde the other day in class, it’s not even funny. I couldn’t even pay attention. And I kept asking -stupid- questions, like, “How many elements are there in copper again?”
…
I’m so bad at that class. SO BAD. It’s all memorizing stuff… Geology. Rocks. Like I can’t remember the name for salt rock. Ever. It’s salt. Can I please just say salt. I can’t remember the name for chalk rock either. It’s chalk. Can’t I please just say chalk. Probably the only ones I can memorize are graphite, just because it looks like pencil lead (okay, it is pencil lead,) and maybe quartz, if it looks like quartz. That’s the problem. All the rocks look the SAME. THE SAME. Most of them look grey. And are hard. And the ones that aren’t grey and hard have c o m p l i c a t e d names that I can’t pronounce. Like, Plagioclase, which sounds more like a disease than a rock.
Then, the samples we memorize look completely different than the ones we’re using for the test. So I’ll be all, “OK. Kyanite. It looks like the blueish mold on my bread. Ok. Kyanite=moldy blue.” So I go and look at the test samples, and oh, yes yes. Kyanite is…. Yellow.
Nice.
I turned in my application at the Blanco Street Café, finally. Everybody had better be crossing their fingers and praying for me because I really REALLY REALLY need a job right now. I owe my parents at LEAST a million dollars for textbooks.
( A random stream of consciousness ) |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Aug. 20th, 2005|04:22 pm] |
| [ | I'm about to kill you because I'm feeling |
| |  drained | ] |
| [ | Jammin out to: |
| | I Don't Want To Be A Soldier--John Lennon, likeduh | ] |
not much going on. it's hot as blazes and I think I almost fainted in the school bookstore today. :( that was bad. i bought this dasani stuff with rasperry in it and it just made me feel worse. i need to get the pictures developed from our trip, but really haven't had the chance. i know aloris and a couple of other people want to see them, so they'll be up soon. ^^
argh. school starts monday. i'm only doing 7 hours this semester (as opposed to last semesters 12) but it still feels like a boatload. :( I'm going to be at sac from 2PM-9:30PM mondays and wednesdays and fridays, and that kind of blows those three days, which kind of sucks. i'm so bad at science, i don't know how i'm going to do this earth science class, i was flipping through the book today and it's awful. but the comp class i'm doing won't be so bad. :)
the other day i took some shots at san fernando cemetary, and i think they turned out okay. yayfordigital, i guess.
( loook. o: )
tell me what you think of them!! |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Aug. 14th, 2005|10:33 pm] |
IGGY POP. I'm such a sixtieswhore it's not even funny. -swoon-
I went to Barnes and Nobles today and the people at Starbucks were nice to me when I said I didn't like my drink and so they fixed me a new one. I bought SULTANS HAREM and forked over way too much money for it but books are just like that. <3
In other news, I bite my nails. What a devastating habit. I bought some scandalous red nailpolish to make myself stop, but I ended up chipping it off. And then biting my nails. Maybe I should dunk them in tabasco sauce or something. -woeandregret-
I'm going to get a job... I swear. I filled out an application at the BLANCO STREET CAFE (which isn't on Blanco street, gofigure.) And then I typed up a resume. And then I lost the application. Oh, I'm getting off to a wonderful start.
ow. My ass hurts like a mother. Amber and Mitch and some other random people were talking about lame middle school/icebreaker games that we used to play, and we ended up playing a (very scandalous) game of "Do you love your neighbor?" It pretty much went like, "Do you love your neighbor?" "Yes, but I don't like people wearing clothes." Long story short, I ended up dashing for a chair and falling straight on my ass on hard concrete. PAIN.
I was wearing the most shiny dangly earrings today, and they had stars on them. But then they infected my ears. Sadness. Cos they're the hawtest earrings I have. ):
Wow. I'm not even going to talk to my Dad anymore. This is utterly ridiculous and I just don't want to deal with it.
I wore a Velvet Underground pin which was noticed by the checker at Barnes and Nobles and that made me happy because VU is so great and nobody knows who they are. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Aug. 1st, 2005|08:30 pm] |
I was in seattle this morning... it ruled. =D It was supa cold... which was kind of nice since it was SO. FRIGGIN. HOT. In california, anyway. California was okay. Napa was okay... I suppose it'd have been better if I held any interest in wine.
So we drove back up today... we went through Portland (Or-ee-gawn) hoping to do some shopping, but downtown gave my mom a headache because she didn't know what the hell she was doing, and I didn't get to go to Powells which made me all upset.
However, I did get to go to this hawt little bookstore in Pikes Market of downtown seattle, where I got the Sin City book I didn't have, and it RULED of course, as Sin City tends to. <3
Um, what else?
Oh, I'm reading the new harry potter book... how lame of me. But it rules, it's so good. I <3 Harry Potter. =DD
Um, what else? God, I haven't talked to any of my girlfriends lately... kelseys gonna kill me... and I forgot to bring her mom some wine. Whoops. I can't call anyone from up here. -woe-
Um... I need to call Lorien... which I've been meaning to do for the past, oh, 3 months. >>;
Somebody should come and kill my sister for me.
Not really, but you could come up and slap her around a bit.
So there's this yappy white dog up here that looks like a mop... it's so little... and yappy. And tiny... and I keep trying not to step on it. =D
Nobody really reads this. >>; -sulks- |
|
|
| Would you like some cheese with your whine? |
[Jul. 29th, 2005|11:09 pm] |
| [ | I'm about to kill you because I'm feeling |
| | Wanting kickass go-go boots | ] |
| [ | Jammin out to: |
| | Family Guy in the background. ^^ | ] |
So this past week I've done like 8 million things. Sunday I got to go the lake. It was actually a pretty nasty lake- the beach was filled with tourists and little kids, and all their trash and crap (literally.) The water was also really oily because of all the boats and jetskis. It was still awesome, though, I got sunburned, and I got to drive a jet ski. Which was totally awesome. My mom wouldn't get on the thing, and wasn't consoled by my Aunt Janet yelling, "COME ON VICTORIA IS THIS AS FAST AS IT'LL GO?!" So I floored it and then she fell off. x) Best. Ever.
Lust
You scored 64 externality and 30 desire! |
| You are one of the lustful, condemned to swirl about helplessly in a neverending thunderstorm in the second circle of hell. As unpleasant as that sounds, lust is still one of the least serious sins, and it is undoubtedly one of the most fun. So go out and slake that thirst for bodily pleasures! |
|
My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
You scored higher than 63% on externality |
|
You scored higher than 21% on desire |
|
(I swear to god it's not true)
Monday Rachel took us to marine world. (Sea World + Six Flags = Marine World. Complete with Shamu ripoff. =D) Half the rides were closed down, which sucked, and Rachel and my sister dragged me onto the most bloodcurdling roller coaster in the park. I spent nearly 20.00 on food (3.00 for a bottle of water is just fucking robbery) and a couple of bucks on a henna tattoo just because. ^^ Rachel perfected the art of shoplifting hamburgers and I got to pet a sting ray, which was just about the coolest ever. In my opinion, anyway.
Ford Prefect
DON'T PANIC |
| Congratulations, you hoopy frood! The world is your pan galactic gargle blaster. Even when you think the Man is getting you down, you can rest assured that it is only the prelude to another favorable adventure. |
 |
My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
You scored higher than 15% on dentity |
|
Tuesday I went with Kelsey to Sunsplash, which is basically this waterpark. We harassed the lifeguards a fair amount, which proved a little more entertaining than the rides. We drank all their water, then refilled the canister with pool water, then stole the head lifeguards water to replace the water we had drank. It was just the best. Again, I was (literally) dragged onto the most petrifying slides in the park, which included shoving me down a 5 story half pipe thingamajig that totally could have almost killed me. x)
And you know what the stupidest thing is? When parents bring their kids to a waterpark- sans lifejacket, of course- and don't teach them how to swim. So you've got this three year old coughing and sputtering in the wavepool, and the mother yelling at the lifeguard for not "slowing down the waves." I'd laugh if it weren't so disturbing. Jeezus, if I were a parent, I wouldn't fucking care how much my kid wanted to go to a waterpark, I'd make sure it could swim first. It's not that hard a concept. If you want to put your kid in water, make sure the kid can swim. I mean, come on. The lifeguards aren't babysitters for chrissakes, and why don't YOU make sure your kid doesn't drown, because it's YOUR kid. God.
Werewolf
You scored 60% Esotericism, 18% Power, and 50% Malevolence! |
| In popular folklore, a man who is transformed, or who transforms himself, into a wolf in nature and appearance under the influence of a full moon. The werewolf is only active at night and during that period, he devours infants and corpses. According to legend, werewolves can be killed by silver objects such as silver arrows and silver bullets. When a werewolf dies he is returned to his human form. The concept of werewolves, or lycanthropes, is possibly based on the myth of Lycaon. He was the king of Arcadia, and in the time of the ancient Greeks notorious for his cruelty. He tried to buy the favor of Zeus by offering him the flesh of a young child. Zeus punished him for this crime and turned him into a wolf. The legends of werewolves have been told since the ancient Greeks and are known all over the world. In areas where the wolf is not so common, the belief in werewolves is replaced by folklore where men can change themselves in tigers, lions, bears and other fierce animals. |
 |
My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
You scored higher than 62% on Esotericism |
|
You scored higher than 10% on Power |
|
You scored higher than 72% on Malevolence |
|
Wednesday we went to the lake, again, we walked down and I totally got myself covered in nasty smelling mud from head to foot. Otherwise, it proved to be uneventful.
Tomorrow we're going to San Fransisco, which is like my favorite city ever. ^^ I wanna look at an art school there, but I probably won't end up going to it. >>; Still would be fun.
So today I'm in Napa. Wine country. The vineyard was fascinating.
For about... 10 minutes. x) It's unfathomly hot here, I don't know a thing about wine, and of course I wasn't able to do the tasting. But apparently I whine too much, so I'll stop now.
I left all my makeup in Sacramento.
But apparently I don't need makeup.
OK, I'm not whining. Really, I'm not.
Hey, you. I just got off the phone with you 5 minutes ago and I already miss you. And then it hurts.
So I'm reading this awesome book. "Memoirs of a Geisha," by Arthur Golden. It's friggen awesome. One of the best historical novels I've read. Everything should go pick it up. It's gripping, truly. I'm about halfway through and I only bought it yesterday... which sucks cos I'm totally gonna have NOTHING to read on the car trip back to Vancouver.
I'm also reading this other great book. By "reading," I mean, I'm stealing it from my mom who also happens to be reading it. It's called "Stiff," and it's about all the uses of cadavers. It's fascinating. Morbid, kind of, but totally engrossing. It isn't too gory, and it's kind of funny, and you all should read it cos it's just great.
You scored 0 Intelligence, 13 Wisdom, and 14 Charisma!
|
All stats are based on the original D&D system of 3-18. 3 being tragically weak and 18 being olympic level ability. Odds are you will be more towards the middle for most things (the middle being 10-11), as that is where most people should be. If you scored above 18 in any skill, I highly suggest you go back and read the directions closer. Especially if you scored above an 18 intelligence, you need to take the test over and only answer ONCE on the first page. Taken properly, it is not possible to get above an 18 on any stat, unless you' over 70 years old. Get the other half of your stats at this companion test.
I am open to suggestions for improving this test. Please message me if you think I am not taking something into account, or have any questions for how I calculated scores. |
|
My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
You scored higher than 0% on Intelligence |
|
You scored higher than 37% on Wisdom |
|
You scored higher than 74% on Charisma |
|
(Well that sucks)
I'm so fucking sick of dealing with school shit. The new counselor is totally inadequate and tells me that a class is still open when it's really closed, that I can't take this when I really can, that my trasncript is fine but it really isn't. Then I have to work with times, and my actually GETTING to the school because my mom is going to have the car during the day, and god. It's hard enough 200 miles away and I wish I could just show up at a class I wanna take at the right time and graduate as something really cool, like a Go Go Dancer.
As for all you people, you need to get in shape with the comments you're leaving me. You people are really slacking, you got that?
I really need to write in my journal. My real one. Actual words too, not just random sketches and doodles. >>; Maybe I should just print out my livejournal and paste it in there. Yeah. Complete with cute little foxie mood icons. =DD
You scored 0 Strength, 13 Constitution, and 6 Dexterity!
|
All stats are based on the original D&D system of 3-18. 3 being tragically weak and 18 being olympic level ability. Odds are you will be more towards the middle for most things (the middle being 10-11), as that is where most people should be. If you scored above 18 in any skill, I highly suggest you go back and read the directions closer. Especially if you scored above an 18 strength, you need to take the test over and only answer ONCE on the first page. Taken properly, it is not possible to get above an 18 on any stat. Get the other half of your stats at this companion test.
I am open to suggestions for improving this test. Please message me if you think I am not taking something into account, or have any questions for how I calculated scores. |
|
My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
You scored higher than 0% on Strength |
|
You scored higher than 41% on Constitution |
|
You scored higher than 0% on Dexterity |
|
(Man, I really suck)
It's taken me like an hour to write this entry, and I hope you're satisfied and leave me a nice long comment. (Key word being nice. You know who you are.)
IN CONCLUSION, I would make a kick-ass Go Go Dancer. |
|
|
| I am not a moron. |
[Jul. 21st, 2005|11:15 am] |
| [ | I'm about to kill you because I'm feeling |
| | dirty | ] |
| [ | Jammin out to: |
| | Some hawt techno music that's playing at this cafe. | ] |
Yes, yes, I know Queen didn't sing Mr. Roboto. The Styx did. HOWEVA, Queen apparently covered the song...as the version I have on limewire CLEARLY says "Mr. Roboto- Queen."
Yeah.
Also, if you're gonna leave me comments anonymously at least leave your name!! Then I have to guess who it is and that's confusing.
Although I suspect the majority of them were from Greg. x)
Anyway, I'm so in Oregon and I'm paying like 1.25 at an internet cafe. -angst- We're in Seaside... it's this touristy town full of cheap motels and overpriced tee-shirts. There is like... nothing here. But we're leaving today for California, so that's good. ^^;
Umm.
I broke my sunglasses this morning.
I'm almost out of makeup.
I had a big mac for breakfast.
I have a headache all over my body.
I have nothing to read.
Motel beds make me queasy.
I still don't have a tan. |
|
|
| rebecca is an evil cell phone hog. |
[Jul. 19th, 2005|07:41 pm] |
| [ | I'm about to kill you because I'm feeling |
| | loved | ] |
| [ | Jammin out to: |
| | No music for victoria! discman out of batteries! -angst- | ] |
10 things on my mind:
1. I hate tanning. Everyone looks like a bunch of dead fishes lying on the beach.
2. I wish I had a tan.
3. September cannot come soon enough.
4. I need batteries.
5. rebecca is an evil discman hog.
6. In canada, they use the metric system. so why do they call it a "Quarter Pounder with Cheese" at mcdonalds? Does it confuse people?
7. I have Queens "Mr Roboto" stuck in my head along with Air Supply... it makes quite a fascinating hybrid.
8. Today I went to this folk festival full of long haired pot smoking birkenstock wearing bead adorned dreadlocked hippies.
9. I wish I were a long haired pot smoking birkenstock wearing bead adorned dreadlocked hippie.
9.5. If I were a long haired pot smoking birkenstock wearing bead adorned dreadlocked hippie, I'd totally be the kind that shaved.
10. I have never been caught between the moon and new york city. |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
loverxlie's journal
Trashed.
