Date: Nov 25th, 2007 9:42:16 pm - Subscribe
Mood: antisocial


Why I am showing these to you, I am not so sure. But, regardless.

"His mouth, her ears. His eyes, his mouth, her ears. The hand of the scribe, the boy's eyes, his mouth, the girl's ears. She traces the casual string back, to the face of the scribe's inspiration, and the lips of the lover and palms of the parents of the scribes's inspiration, and their lover's lips and parents' palms and neighbors' knees and enemies, and the lovers of their lovers, parents of their parents, neighbors of their neighbors, enemies of their enemies, until she convinces herself that it is not only the boy who is reading to the girl in that attic, but everyone reading to her, everyone who ever lived."
- Everything Is Illuminated.

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."
- On the Road.

"Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."
- Alice in Wonderland.

"I closed my eyes and opened them, and the only difference was the feel of the wind on my eyeballs, because when I closed them I could still see the dotted lines perfectly. I threw back my head and yelled. When I was a kid, I read these books, the Redwall books, fantasy books about a bunch of warrior mice, and the mice had this war cry that I always thought was cool: "Eulalia." And like an idiot, that's what I yelled off the Brooklyn Bridge..."
- It's Kind of a Funny Story.

"So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be... I walked over to the hill where we used to go and sled. There were a lot of little kids there. I watched them flying. Doing jumps and having races. And I thought that all those little kids are going to grow up someday. And all of those little kids are going to do the things that we do. And they will all kiss someone someday. But for now, sledding is enough. I think it would be great if sledding were always enough, but it isn't..."
- The Perks Of Being a Wallflower.

Maybe I just want to preserve these here. I am not sure. When am I ever sure? Forgive me for that much.

- 'Seattle.'

Comments: (1)

Date: Nov 21st, 2007 10:47:12 pm - Subscribe
Mood: surreal


This bores me.


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Date: Nov 15th, 2007 12:57:10 am - Subscribe
Mood: feverish


Sometimes I am going to type fake stories, or occurances, what have you. And they will always be titled "Fake____", as this one is.

My husband is cheating on me. I am positive. I know this for sure because the other day I saw him on the train with another woman. I pretended I didn't see him, and they didn't see me. I watched them through the reflection in the window. They were acting so coy, so goddamn flirty. If I had a gun I would have shot them. I would have. I would have shot the woman first, and then right before my husband had a chance to scream, or say something like, "What the fuck are you doing on the train?! I thought you were at work!" I would have shot him right in the throat. If anyone would have tried to step in, I would have told them that he was my husband and this dead woman here, bleeding on the floor just happened to be the woman he was boning. Yes, while I was supposed to be at work. I never told her I was fired, thats why i lied about being him work. They didn't see me on the train though. Also, I didn't have a gun. When they got off at Union Square, I waited until the last second before the doors closed and I leapt through. Staying behind, just far enough so that the mass of people hid my stalking. They transferred to the Downtown-6 and got off at Astor Place. Yes, I followed. They went into Target. Yes, I followed. They went shopping for some dinner items and some tea lights. Yes, I guess I needed some too. Along with thosee, I bought a very aesthetically pleasing lamp shade that looks somewhat Victorian. They went to check out. The express line, I assumed to pay with a credit or debit card. I forgot that I was supposed to be out of view, I got in line behind them, my husband confronted me. He said he could explain. I knew that he had been stepping out with this woman, and I could prove it. He said she was just a co-worker and I was overreacting. I told him I had seen them together on the train since Brooklyn. Again, he could explain. I didn't reply. After I checked out, showed him the new lamp shade and asked him which lamp it would look the best on. He said not to place it on any of his lamps, because he would be by sometime during the week to move anything in the apartment. That was his. I told him my heart belonged to him, and he only replied by saying, that I could keep it.


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Date: Nov 12th, 2007 1:30:24 pm - Subscribe
Mood: panicked


I thoroughly enjoyed this film, really. It was one of the quirky ones. Which is why, I am guessing, why I liked it so much. I feel better about the more or less recent events, and issues, with people around me. I am still at war with myself as to where I will plant myself to go to college.

I like the rain because when it does rain
It is some sort of scenery change.
Although when I am indoors
I want so badly to be out that
When I stare through the window,
I will open my eyes again
And the window is gone.
Fragments coating my feet,
My knuckles burning.
The amount of blood won't matter
Once I get to where I am going,
It is a long walk
And the rain will wash me clean.

J. and I went to the record store downtown,
Then bought a record.
It was "Lover Boy's" favorite album.
Knowing this, we took the record
Out to a field next to J.'s father's farm
And broke it into tiny pieces.
We put those broken songs in a box
Dug a hole for that box with the broken songs
Then buried it there in the field,
Next to J.'s father's farm.
I do not know what this means,
Or why it is, what it is.

-Pastel green.

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black scarf.
Date: Nov 7th, 2007 6:27:15 pm - Subscribe
Mood: hurt


No, I am not jealous of you and your "friends."
No, I do not need you to be "all right" with myself and my life.
No, if you completely forgot about me I would not care.
No, I do not care if you talk shit about me, whether I hear it or not.
No, talking about "so and so" does not make me feel bad about myself.
Maybe, if you allowed it, people would actually help you.
Maybe, if you realized that taking action would help, you would be happier.
Maybe, if you did not talk so much shit, people would trust you.
Maybe, if you decided people will make mistakes, you would be less critical.
Maybe, if you stopped feeling sorry for yourself, you would feel better.
Yes, if you started actually caring about other people, I would be surprised.
Yes, a positive or hopeful attitude can change anything.
Yes, it is going to be hard, do it anyways.
Yes, I am still here for you, even if you talk shit and put me down.
Yes, talking down on yourself makes people upset. You know it too.

-Existential carousel.

Comments: (0)

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