| dear xanga, long time no see, you've changed. I haven't, really. The same things happen, just with different faces and hands and private parts. I don't do much, but wait for an idea or an education. Till then, I'm utterly free, and I don't think I like it. Erin |
| |
| Sometimes the only motive of the ballerina in a music box is to be kept.
Erin
|
| |
| dear journal,
while i was walking two blocks from my place of employment, I ran a social check on the scene around me and came to realize that you were everyone I passed. Imagine your face on the body of every stranger, and tell me that truth isn't a matter of passing. Oh yeah, I am currently railing a line of coke.
Once when i was real small and tiny enough to pass through the gap between the fence and the house, I ran so far away from what i thought to be the biggest mistake God ever made. That tree had no business snarling it's mouth towards the south of richland, but it was then and there and there and there that I knew i had to listen and bear witness to him.
He was a lot younger than I imagined he would be. And his voice was full of baby oil. His suit, however, reminded me of mustard when it first begins to harden.
Yuck.
Erin |
| |
| dear journal,
Had another all encompassing dream last night. But the last thing I remember was someone dirty, crying, grasping at me and she said "i'd rather die than watch her..." and then alex woke me up, even if it was just her voice in my head.
Gosh, the vacuum cleaner is loud. I wish they would make quiet ones so that people could write their journal entries in peace. damn you, dirt devil. You make me sneeze.
so if anyone who reads this professes their love for me and I accidentally talk over you for some stupid reason, say it again so i don't have to waste my whole life never knowing how you feel. deal?
You'll probably just marry that man anyway.
He'll give you money and puppies.
He's the mafia in chicago.
He's the kind of man who never drinks alone.
ahem. Last night I spent some time with myself and had the strangest idea. Alex was the only one of my memories that didn't seem real. Even jordan seemed real, and jessica, and valentine, and jez, but alex was always distant. She was the doll in all the photos i wanted to take...
But then, I remembered that I was high,
that i'm the lunatic of orleans.
but that does not concern your trial.
Erin |
| |
