b thang.
operator
[newest]
recent morsels
my other links.
old morsels.
- September 2004
- October 2004
- November 2004
- December 2004
- January 2005
- February 2005
- March 2005
- April 2005
- May 2005
- June 2005
- July 2005
- August 2005
- September 2005
- October 2005
- November 2005
- December 2005
- January 2006
- February 2006
- March 2006
- April 2006
- May 2006
- June 2006
- July 2006
- September 2006
- October 2006
- November 2006
- December 2006
- February 2007
- March 2007
- April 2007
- June 2007
- July 2007
- August 2007
- January 2008
- March 2008
- April 2008
- June 2008
- July 2008
- October 2008
- November 2008
- December 2008
- February 2009
- March 2009
- June 2009
- October 2009
- December 2009
- May 2010
- January 2011
- September 2011
- September 2012
- April 2013
- March 2015
- March 2016
20.9.04
(old)
from the 17th:
what is with people not understanding these days?
it seems i am one of those black, rib-cage-looking dustbins (which get tipped upside down in theback of the trucks) for everyones problems.i don't mind. i don't mind listening to people, and talking back, and listening and trying to help and listening and talking and making up some really perceptive-sounding sentences come out of my mouth so often it makes my throat sore.i think it is wonderful that people look up to me/trust me as much as that. as much to say what someone i know very well is doing to them, and i won't say a word.
i am a diplomacy all by myself.
and it seems that people just dont know what i want. i dont want to talk about anything in return as some kind of compensation. it doesnt have to be a God Damned Swap. i can give and give and give. maybe i dont want to talk about anything. maybe i am happy with a book of lined paper and a fucking pencil. maybe i have let some people down.maybe i am not exuding as much wit, as much intelligence, as much lucidity and confidentiality as i have had of late. perhaps it's time i just didnt give a damn.
"MAYBE". what's the sign on the lolly pop? it's the why-must-beff-be-so-nebulous-about-her-intent-stop!
and what's more, what's fucking more is that people dont understand that ALL i want to do, aside from eat dolly mixture and draw lackadaisically, is talk to him. I will go to him. I will talk to him. If i need to. They dont know he he is i guess. Well, i dont guess. I know whole-heartedly. But he is who i want to talk to. And he makes me feel better. He is my medicine. Like on those tiny plastic spoons, and when your parents feed you it, they make that motion with their mouths, so you eat the medicine. Like that. Except he manages to open the bottle, pour it out, make the motion and be swallowed all at once.
What a talented young fellow. I think he has got to know me a little better. I wonder if he likes it.
things i did/have done to day:
1. a frenchman told me that i was experiencing "proper english rain" except he said rain like "ren".
2. i wore a plaster.
3. i drunk 250ml of chocolate milkshake through ridiculously small straws sutured together.
4. a) read an awe-inspiring poem.
4. b) read it out.
5. knew i could do sums.
6. felt immense feelings of some unknown melancholy for a boy drawing.
7. got wet feet.
8. had my photo taken.
two things to do:1. make icing
2. touch the curve where the corner of my jaw reels into my neck becuase it is soft and it makes me feel safe.
whispered by killa b at 7:13 PM |
0 answerphone msgs
commentz