Monday, September 14, 2009

A Crappy Poem

Still
The home isn't
yet stay still godammit
still
listen
run.
Run.
Not because of moral conventions
or of turbulent connections
or even of medicinal expectations.
Just run.
It'll be ok.
Running isn't too hard
just go. Run away.
I'll be at the finish line
waiting.

Friday, September 4, 2009

WHEEE

Alright, get your squeeling ready

I'm dating Matt! The most unbelivably amazing guy I know! He's into me!


EEEEE!

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Audition Peice

I think... theese two would be good 4 the band audition.

4 piano and 4 vocals




Friday, August 28, 2009

Matt, Matt

Matt! He's amazing. And incredibly hot. And not going to date ever again because his heart was once broken.
Crap in a hat!
I've made some friends, Sage, Laurien, Cameron L, Cameron, Hannah, Sophie. Yay!

No word yet on why Benji's being such a grump.

Gotta go- homework.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Flowers

A peculiar thing happened to me.

I was on the island where my family had the reunion. There was a vase full of flowers. And, I don't know how, or why, I could see their life. It was buzzing around, like static, only not. It was their life. I looked up, to see if anyone else saw this, but no one did. Their clouds of life were huge. They were completely engulfed in them- like the snow on TV you get when you're on a bad channel. I could barely make out their faces. The flowers were right there. Gently, slowly, I touched a petal. Nothing. Its life stayed put. My cousins were asking me something- I don't remember. I didn't respond. Quickly, I pulled off a petal. Its life ripped from the rest in an awful, velcro like sound. The energy faded. It was fading. It would dissapear soon. I popped the petal in my mouth, punctured one delicate end with my cannine. Wham. The energy of the petal buzzed into me, a sharp flash of sense, then nothing. It was a strange thing. As soon as I bit down, killing the petal, I heard a fizzling and a popping and a... dissolveing of the life from the petal. Into me.
My cousins asked me why I ate the flower. I couldn't say. The husk of what once was a petal lay, motionless, in my mouth.
Wanna hear a secret? I ate flowers the rest of the trip. Grass, too. I would suck them of their life then spit the shell out. Food... no longer gave me energy to proceed. No energy. Just a shell we eat. The fizziness faded around me, and eventually I could just call it up whenever I wanted.

But now, in school, it's back. Everyone is static. The pure life force of them astounds me, and if I could... but I wouldn't.

Am I Wrong?

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Anonymous Commenter

Hello and welcome! Feel free to email me, though I never check my email. I'm MistCover on Steam, if you play.
Who the fuck are you? 

HOW DID YOU FIND MY BLOG?!?!?

Friday, July 24, 2009

Clusterfuck of Sparkles

Alright, I'm sick of people wondering why the fuck I don't like the Twilight series. I'm fourteen, single, and in blossom. Why don't I want to fuck a marble statue or read a giddy romance?
Well, I will now outline my reasons in clear, easy to read format.

1. They Are Not Vampires
Seriously. They couldn't be LESS of a vampire. Everyone drinks animal blood. It's called steak, or meat, or anything, really, has blood in it. Vampires die in the sunlight. Vampires are not venomous. How one becomes a vampire is under hot debate, but it's not poison. Nope. No way. Not gonna happen. Vampires drink human blood. They have fangs. Vampirism is a curse, not a blessing. True, you may get some supernatural abilities if you're well fed, but other than that, you're fucked because you'll live forever, see all that shit, watch all your friends die and kill a ton of people. Ever wonder why real vampires are insane? Because being a vampire is one of the least pleasant things I can imagine. I cannot stress this point enough. And no, it is not Ms. Meyer's "imagining" of vampires. Anne Rice reimagined the vampire, but all the basics were there, and her vampires did not fundamentally change the way vampires work. Your vampires are an insult to vampires everywhere. Meyers wanted angsty, hot teenagers, and the safest kind of danger possible. Please! Your "vampires" are dark superheros. That's a legit genre.
Next we'll have zombies that don't eat brains.

2. Overt Sexism
Translation: Bella is nothing without her man. SO much of a nothing that she tries to die and litterally has no fucking clue what she's doing unless he's around. Edward hurts her, abuses her, beats her, yet this is all somehow OK because he says he does it "because I love you." Sound familiar?

3. We Don't Need Wannabes
Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep up with all these new hopefuls? Twelve and thirteen year old girls, bent on becoming a sparkle-fest, seek vampirism. Hell, my initiator has set up this policy to show all new hopefuls the true horrors of vampires before she even CONSIDERS them. Usually, we keep the blood and guts and pain away from the hopefuls until it's too late for them to change their mind. Now we hope they change their mind, since we don't allow under eighteens. (Don't ask how I got in.) They ask us to go out into the sun, wonder why we sleep in coffins, shriek at the sight of the... *ahem*... messier details of our lives. It's horrible. They're barely time for hunting during the blood hours with all these idiots hovering about.

4. We Don't Need Wannabes, Part Two
Also, the goth/blood doll community dos not need you. You look like a tool trying to fit in.

5. The "Stories" Have No Plot
The entire series is pretty much an ode to hot guys.

6. All The "Vampires" Are Wimps
In all the books, the bad guys go running after a stare-down. That's right, the mighty non vampires STARE AT EACH OTHER AS A TURF WAR. Also, the closest thing we get to scary, or vampire, in the whole series is a rip off of Anne Rice. At the end of New Moon, the Volturi... are basically just Anne Rice's characters made shitty and given different names. It's like somebody went "oh, shit! How did we end up in good literature?! Quickly! Revert back!" And the Volturi promptly vanish. What the FUCK. Also, if you're gonna rip off Lestat and Louis, then at the very least don't make them total angst ridden cardboard cutouts.


Feel free to make an argument against me. I will promptly tear it to shreds.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Still No Sleep

And God DAMMIT, I'm a sucker for pain. I keep doing things I know will be emotionally painful. Why? Why the fuck do I think this is a good idea?
I got Left 4 Dead, so the time passes ever so slightly faster.
Benji's gone again. This time, though, he admitted to missing his friends. And he now hugs, and listens to SOME music! He even calls snacks "snackrifices". Progress! I'm so excited! He might graduate high school wise to the ways of the world!
Baby steps... next up... *drum roll*... FEMALE CONTACT!
Ow ow ow. Emotional pain just became physical, as in, now it feels like there is lead shot in my throat and stomach. Ow ow fuck ow.
I need a crush... that would help a bit... mindless, useless pining over someone keeps the mind busy during these mind numbingly dull bits of summer.
I'm pretty sure the next time I see Andy, I'll fall for her all over again, so I'm trying to constantly remind myself why I CANNOT do that. I have very good ones. But as they say, the heart is an idiot.
Plus, I don't want to be a mass of jelly on the first day of high school, 'cause I'm already missing Freshman orientation. (Fuck you, dad!) I'm determined to look my Gothic best.
Life... seems so meaningless without friends. All my friends... gone. Mostly. Benji's still my friend, but now he's gone. AGAIN. I'm not talking to Samantha for my own sanity, no matter how much it hurts not to. Plus, her mom... thinks I'm crazy. I'm scared of her. And Alma's all...weird since The Thing, so I try to stay away, because it sucks balls to be hanging around someone you don't like who desperately likes you. A-w-k-w-a-r-d. And one of my cats died. George. The one I picked out myself. Some guy thought he was a raccoon and ran over him.(Fuck you, random guy!)
So, basically it's my porn, Sims and zombie game that keep me company. I am lonely, very very lonely. Author that writes my life, please fucking pick up the ball! I'm desperate!
I'm lonely enough that I'm a tad loopy, just a tad.
Sorry this post is long and ranting and not creative.
I have no creativity at the moment.
Good Naught.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Ren Fest

Same as it ever was. Tyler and Ali didn't make much of a difference. I'm just glad we didn't have to leave early this time. This time, even though it rained, we stayed.
I'm fucking tired. I haven't slept in over a week. I can't sleep.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Redshift Radio

Their gig last night was EPIC. Their singer can't sing, but Tyler kicks ass on the guitar!
He even made a Punchout reference!

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Don't Piss Off Randall Munroe (XKCD Author)

200903191054

Summer

It is making me loopy. I'm sweating, and unable to replace fluids quickly enough, so I am lightheaded and sleepy. Plus, my new meds make it hard for me to hold a train of thought or remember what the hell I just did/said/saw. I eat pizza and ice cream and chai and sweat. That's pretty much it. I cannot go to Sam's B-Day party. That's OK. I don't want to go to a party where all I hear all day is "Oh, I wish Sean were here, but oh, he can't be, because you're here, oh!" Let Sean deal with it. She'll have a great time. It'll be great.
I'm sweating. Godamnit.
Placebo's new alblum is epic. I miss Samuel. I miss Benji. I miss Samantha.

When I have something usefull to say, I'll be back.

Good Naught!

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

I Think God Ordered A Recall

A recall on famous people. Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcette, and Billy Mays, all in three days. Sheeeeet!

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Finally

I'm verbally abusing daddy dearest so I can get tickets to go to Michigan this summer to be at my grandparent's 50th anniversary party/ whole family reunion/ whole family portrait.
What's strange is, that dosen't strike me as strange. Just part of the routine. So I'm telling him, no, I will NOT fly in at four in the morning on my first day of high school. I'll fly in at six pm. Tops.
Sims 3 is fun, but insanely addictive. I've spent over 200 hours on it already.
To all future employers: Hi! If mom's right, you're reading this. Let me assure you, that the rants and crankiness of a 12+ version of my self have no reflection whatsoever on the person I am today, when I'm trying to get you to hire me. I have never, to my knowledge, participated in any illegal activities.
Also, I'm single. Ellie is, too, now. Samantha was bitten by Sean He won't even say he's sorry. I want him to beg. HIs mother chewed me out thoughroly for not saying positive things to her son. Boo Hoo. I told her he bit his girlfriend, and that the bite brought her weeks of heartache.
My neck feels empty, because all I charms I once carried around with me from friends have one by one dissapeared. I keep fingering my neck, waiting for something to appear.
I go to court soon.
Good naught.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Monolauge of roughly the last 4 and a half hours

THE BOREDOM....

IT IS OVERWHELMING!

Wow... day 3 of Summer Vacation and I'm bored. I need a graphing calculator. One of the rly good ones like M Black has.

That would be nice.
Or the Sims 3.
Or Left 4 Dead.
Or Fallout 3.
Or House seasons 1, 2, 3.
Or all of Voyager.

Lol, it's May-June and I'm making my Christmas list.

Fail.

*sigh* bored... should ask Andy over... tomorrow. *sigh*
I've been awake for 4 and a half hours and I'm already tired again.

*sigh*
Maybe I should plug in my iPod. iPod is turning up as misspelled on this automatic spell checker.

Nah, I just want the calculator. I could make a text game where you die in increasingly interesting ways, depending on how long you survive the game. That would be fun.

I need to shower. When was the last time I showered? It was Wensday. What day is it today? Saturday? Shit. I need a shower. ARGH! I need to email my XO and the Flt Admiral, they're going to kill me. Ack.

I should go.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Until I'm Fixed

Well... I...

I...

why does this always happen to me right before the summer? Why do my friends leave? Am I unlikeable? Do they see how broken I am, how no amount of patience could fix?

Mom wants me hospitilized. The reasoning is, I'm a danger to myself and to others. She says I need to be in an institution until I get better, until I get control. She told me I just had to say the word, and we'd be off. She said if I was ever that violent again, we'd be going, regardless.

The thing is, I want to go. I want every day to be structured, to know just where and when I'll be. To have a horde of kind people fixing me, taking the pieces and carefully gluing them back unto the whole. Until I'm better. Until I'm fixed. Day one of summer: I'm going. Goodbye.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Ah, Carp.

Mom: not as idiotic as I thought.


Cover: Blown

Sunday, May 17, 2009

The pathetic thing is
I have no reason to be in love, yet I am.
The pathetic thing is
I'm an activist for what I know is wrong.
The pathetic thing is
my family can never share my loves.
The pathetic thing is
I'm sure they'd rather I be pregnant.
The pathetic thing is
I am selfish and go instantly for what I want.
The pathetic things is
I pay no attention to the fact I hurt people on the way.
The pathetic thing is
I fish for attention and praise because I'm sure no one would give me any otherwise.
The pathetic thing is
I speak too much.
The pathetic thing is
I say I don't care, but three digits on a scale mean more to me than my next meal.
The pathetic thing is
I swallow pills to make me happy and still feel sad.
The pathetic thing is
I know my friends would find my life dull, so I make up exciting bits.
The pathetic thing is
I can't remember which lies I've told who.
The pathetic thing is
I only tell my most embarassing things, never the important ones.
The pathetic thing is
I always talk about myself, even when I don't mean to.
The pathetic thing is
I no longer care about school, I'm sure I'll just waste my money on Zoloft and Steam games.
The pathetic thing is
I can't manage relationships and dictate my friend's.
The pathetic thing is
NOT Andrea.



Monday, May 11, 2009

iPod Awnsers

Here we go.

1. Copy/paste questions
2. Set iPod on "shuffle"
3. For every question, the next song is your awnser.
4. DO NOT BLAME ME FOR MY AWNSERS.

INTO THE BREACH!


If everyone says, "everything is well," what do you say?
Loose Lips- Kimya Dawson

What best describes your personality?
Spotlight- Mute Math

What suits you today?
Have To Drive- Amanda Palmer (True.... slow, depressing, and absorbed in the piano)

What is your goal in life?
I Hate You All- Smile Time (Uhhhh)

What is your motto?
Un American- Play Whenever (Sorta...)

What do your friends think of you?
Catholic Scars and Chocolate Bars- Flickerstick

What do you think about often?
What Can I Tell You?- Local H (YES!)

How much is 2 + 2?
Living Dead Girl- Rob Zombie (Ohkay then)

What do you think of your best friends?
Barely (If At All)- The Verve Pipe (True at the moment)

What do you think of the person you like?
That's The Way (My Love Is) - Smashing Pumpkins

What is the history of your life?
Still Alive- Portal (It's hard to overstate my satisfaction..... we do what we must, because, we can.... for the good of all of us, except the ones who are dead! But there's no sense crying over every mistake, you just keep on trying till u run out of cake! And the SCIENCE gets done and you make a neat gun for the people who are Still Alive!)

What do you want to be when you grow up?
Bruise Pristine- Placebo *Once More With Feeling* (Hey, that kinda makes sense!)

What will you do when you meet the person you like?
Crimes- A Perfect Circle (I do think of the M word, which is a CRIME)

What do your parents think of you?
Waking Up In Vegas- Katy Perry (WTF)

What will you dance to in your wedding?
Lucky Time- Local H (YES)

What music will play during your funeral?
I Know Your Name- Lemon Demon (YES)

What is your pastime?
Pest- A Perfect Circle

What is your biggest secret?
Dirty Business- The Dresden Dolls (Oddly appropriate)

What do you think of your friends?
Blue- A Perfect Circle (Ask me tomorrow and the awnser will be diff)

What is the worsProxy-Connection: keep-alive
Cache-Control: max-age=0

thing that could happen?
All Apologies- Nirvana

How will you die?
Slave To The Wage- Placebo

What is the only thing you regret?
Major Tom- I Hate Kate

What makes you laugh?
Weenie Beenie- Foo Fighters

What makes you cry?
The Spine Song- Cake Bake Betty

Who will you marry one day?
A Warm Place- Nine Inch Nails

What scares you the most?
All The Things She Said- T.A.T.U

Does anyone like you?
Castlevania- Minibosses (HUH?)

If you could go back in time, what would you change?
Big Man With A Gun- Nine Inch Nails

What hurts you now?
Dead Is The New Alive- Emilie Autumn

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

http://www.theonion.com/content/video/diet_book_author_advocates_new_no

Monday, May 4, 2009

That Was Awful

Worst day of the fucking year, and no-one can offer help.

Anyways: Sean, the bastard, is being a complete asshole to Benji and I. ("Benji smells bad! You can't hang out with him!") and complaining he's hungry all the fucking time but then, when you offer him food, says "no.... no..... I'm hungry....." and monopolizes Samantha's attention and is basically a jerkwad. I feel horrible about this and sob, and Sam tries to be comforting but can't because STB is around.
Then, in Drama, more drama. I have to play mediator for two diff. arguments.
No-one can offer helpful advice.

I haven't felt this bad since a year and some ago, but here I am, thinking what the FUCK am I gonna do!?

Thursday, April 30, 2009

This couldn't be more true

http://www.collegehumor.com/article:1772225

Got any more? LEMME KNOW

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

happy Birthday

Happy Day You Were Shoved Out Of A Vagina my love!

Hope it's better than bunnies!

Saturday, April 25, 2009

It Runs In The Family

12:21 pm: 40+ outfits to make an Amanda Palmer music video: good idea! wooot!

1:50 pm: 40+ outfits to make an Amanda Palmer music video: not a good idea, once you're on outfit #17 and your knees give way.

Friday, April 24, 2009

Garage Sale

there's one tommorrow. i posted a sign that says "if you enjoy your ears or your sanity, DO NOT WAKE SLEEPING GIRLS."

Lets see what happens.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Perfect

:)
I broke down. I love you.

So.... StarFest,

I GOT HUGGED BY BRENT FUCKING SPINER!!!!! HUGGED!!!!!!!!!!

And I saw a midnight showing of Dr Horrible's Sing-Along Blog.
Epic. Win.

So yep yep.... not much else.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Assault

Yea, yea, I was sexually assaulted.

I just want my eye to stop twitching.

Monday, April 6, 2009

4 D's in vocal range, D in bra size, D in math

D is for Doom.

I cant be on the 'puter as punishment.

Sorry.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Red Haired Wanderer

I can see you, you know. You wander, aimless, through the fields behind my school. You search. For a ball? For a dog? For interesting shapes in the grass? A little speck of bright bright red amongst the sea of green. You seem so lost, they say. You seem so lonely. But my Red Haired Wanderer is not lost, he is happy. A smile dances about his lips, and his eyes hold the glaze of happyness one almost rarely sees. Why do we have to be busy to be happy? Why must our lives be measured in teaspoons, each one stacked away somewhere keeping us on course? Red Haired Wanderer, you know the truth to things. You are wise and young. You know people will never accept you, think you a fool or crazy or what have you, but you don't care. You wander. Happy and alone.
Red Haired Wanderer, I know your real name. It doesn't fit you. It's Ben. Ugly and boring, a life dolled out in inches.
Wanderer. R.H. Wanderer. I can't find a good name for you. Mabye you have no name. Things don't need names.
Good luck.


AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT
I feel like there is cement in my stomach. NO WAY am I going to school.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

In one minet, there are eight opinions.

1. I swear to God, if one more person asks me about that damn fight, I will scream! I have NO IDEA what happened, I wasn't even in school at the time!
- Lindsay Miller

2. Ok, so, like, there's this really ugly chick, and she, like, was being teased by some guys. Ok? Ok. My friend Lindsay said, like "cut it out", but they didn't. So, next thing I know, Alex is like "Fight!!!" and there they were. He looks pretty hurt. He OK?
-Sara Collins

3. Dude, it was so cool! This girl, Miranda, is in my art class right? She's really hot. Anyways, some jerks were being jerks, and she went BAM and punched him right in the face! It's what the motherfucker deserves, I swear. Yea. Yea, make sure to write down "motherfucker". Got that? Good. Can I go now, officer?
- Alex Rodriguez

4. Well I was on lunch duty today. I was talking to Stacey and her friends about cell phones on school grounds, and this horrible shriek fills the air. It was awful. I wish I could have stopped it. That Miranda girl should be expelled.
- Mrs. Ayoub, 9th Grade LA Teacher

5. I dunno. I saw nothing! I swear man, nothing! Dude, you're not gonna search my lockers or dude your face is melting! Dude. Whoa. I am so hi- I mean happy to be in school. Dude... chill out. I'm sure it was nothing.
-Keith Richards

6. My friend Miranda's nice. She has a a temper. But that boy... oh! He makes me mad! He never shuts up, all like "you're stupid!" and trying to grab her boobs and stealing her books and stuff. Oh, I think she shouldn't be punished for that. Self-defense, right? It says right in section 6, paragraph 7: oh? you don't want to hear it? Ok, officer. Sir. Bye!
- Jamie Coslini

7. I punched him in the face. I'm very sorry, and I hope he is OK. But he pushed me beyond my limits.
-Miranda DeVont, purpotraitor. (In response to further questioning, Miss DeVont pleaded the fifth. Her clothes were too dark to see any blood stains. Sevral of her chains matched the pattrens on Mr. Richard's thighs.)

8. ARGH! My face is burning! I swear she beat me like twenty times! In the face! Like, twenty punches! ARGH! I never did nothing to her, she's making shit up, she fucking hates me, man! Damn! Can I get some Advil? I want some fucking Advil, man! Listen! She makes weird shit up all the time! Have you seen her? She's bigger than a fucking whale! God, I want some ice!
- Donald Richards, victim

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Prompt

I needs one

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Boy Of Monterary Type...?



CLICK TWICE OR WHATEV FOR FULL SIZE


Friday, March 13, 2009

WOW

Holy shit..... 

take
1 Tizri having a panick attack
2 5 milligram valium
3 CDs

Add valium to Tizri, mix thouroughly. Download Cds, watch Tizri, who is insanely high, try to stop I Kissed A Girl. 

BUNNNNNNNIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

And how'd u find Such Great Heights Andy? Its one of my favs!

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Who's Gay In (Insert TV Show here)

Alright. This Comic spawned it all.

So, I tried the equation, using Firefly as my base.

9(9-1)  
--------   +  3 (3-9) |  3(3-9)
     2

Which gave us: Gay= 17 Straight= 18. My conclusion? FAULTY.

So, I decided to try to build my own equation.

TRY ONE: Well, one in ten randomly selected people is gay, right? So, using that as a starting point, I got this:

.10(x)| x-10(x)-y           NOTE: x= # of characters y= children under 16

Well, this gave us 0.9 gay characters and 0.9 straight characters. I had some work to do, obviously.

My next attempt was an utter failure. NOTE: 9*1, the little star indicates to the power of..., so its really nine to the power of one. Capital X is the multiplication symbol. Lower case x is the variable.

GAY    | STRAIGHT
x*1             |    x*9
-----X 0.10| ------- - y
  1 100

Which gave me numbers in the billions for straight. Didn't work.

Finally, my last attempt

10(P+Y-2W)= Straight characters

Gay Characters
x
------------- - Y - P
       10

X= total characters
P= total confirmed straight pairings
Y= children under 16
W= x/10-Y -P

It gave me ~6.1 straight and ~2.9 gay characters. Based on slash fic, clues in the series, and other sources, I say this isn't TOO far off.
Got a better equation? Let me know.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Oh shit

drhorrible.com

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

MARGH

bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored bored booooreeeeeeed
JustSayHi - Science Quiz

Monday, March 2, 2009

Monday, February 23, 2009

Well shit

Ah, my last refuge of talent has been stripped of me. I am now, talentless, lost in a fog of pills. I shall watch as the soul drips out of me unto the floor, where some child will happen upon it and perhaps use it better than I could have imagined. I reached into that dark corner of my mind, the one full of worlds and characters, screaming to be let free. Nothing. It is empty, blank, filled with cotton.
I am done. The hopes and dreams I shared are done. I will never write, or draw, or imagine again. I have been robbed of my imagination, replaced instead by a haze of happy.

Sweet ignorance, let me forget!

Sunday, February 22, 2009

I have reached a conclusion

the lowest of low points in my life, I had no depression pills, and it was threeish in the morning.

I'm too hot-
molten lava drips across my skin.
I'm too cold-
my heart feels ready to stop beating.
I'm too awake-
my stomach lurches, my limbs twitch.
I'm too asleep-
I haven't moved for hours.
I'm too quiet-
I don't say what matters most.
I'm too loud-
I say what you don't want to hear.
I think its too late for me,
that girl
the one who's glassy eyed and wanders
unseeing
but who always sees too much.

its old. Old enough that I didnt know ow to use a semicolon. Yet this untitled poem remains some of my best work, ever.
depression sparks creativity.

Why cruel internet!?

100s of free_______ my ass!
^
fill in the blank

I need a piano teacher. I got a keyboard for Hanukah, and I still cant play it. I just sit with it, for hours, touching the keys and losing myself in the pretty little noises they make. I can play a few songs but I have no idea individually what they mean. The keys.

A new portal of insanity has been breached. I want my little pillcup!!!!

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Murhk

Blergh. Pain.

Love you Andy!

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Valentine's Day, Year Two of Four Letter

Kiss my lips as they melt off my face and into the drain i love you i love you why is it that I am cursed to love you you are not the lover I imagined yet you are so perfect and soft and god its like living down and sideways by the way did you notice there is a shortage of what I’m not sure. Can you feel the life leaking again? Get that looked at, I mean now. As I drip and droop onto the realm of sleep and dreams I taste lucky charms and happiness and tomorrow I will try and try and try to drown whatever I have left to drown as for a fact I cannot live without it. Whittle the wigs for you have no idea anymore, I have no idea anymore, and the love in my soul is flying and sparkling but not like Edward like real sparkles that mean happiness and frosting. As I said, kiss kiss kiss all I think about yet all I wish not to think about for the fact that I am not supposed to I am supposed to be good and nice and not nothing other than three years old and cute and fat and cuddly. I want nothing more than to kiss. I want to not want. Let us rest now for I have fallen asleep twice now and my stomach grumbles and I am done.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Re: Your Pretentiousness

So You Want To Be A Writer. ><>




Well, mister, I have something to tell you. I want to read what you have written. It is shit. How do I know this, you ask? BECAUSE I KNOW YOU ARE NOT A REAL WRITER. It is HARD. Really really really fucking oh my god will it ever end hard. Yet we keep slogging away. Why? Because we love it. It's our passion. If the only good writing, in your opinion, is the writing which comes pouring out of us, unedited, unshown to everyone and their mailman, undoubted, unstalled for hours as we search for a single word, then you are wrong. Good morning, mister writer! You are not God. What comes spewing out of your facehole is not gospel. Writing must be edited, then edited some more, then revised, then revised some, then shown to everyone in the known universe so they can edit and revise and completely change your plot.

You say to us who spend hours staring at our screen in frustration, to us who run every adverb by our girlfriend, to us who spend days at a time unable to continue, that our writing is bad. You say it is bad. BAD B-A-D. Plain. Boring. WHAT?! We spend years cultivating and perfecting our art. We are the keepers of a almost forgotten secret. 

WE ARE WRITERS.

You are not perfect. I am not perfect. Hell, no-one has EVER published an unedited just-came-spewing-out-my-head rant. Show me one. ONE. 

No luck? Because we need to make our writing good. We sweat, we bleed, we cry to struggle and slog through out hazy jell of cousiousness to write what we know to be within us. We don't sit and have stories come pouring out. Sometimes, sure, you'll get inspired and yell for a pen and paper to jot down ideas, but rarely do we just sit down and write and entire anything, mistake free. Actually, we never do that.


In layman's terms, in case I used to many grown-up words for you:

Fuck you and your horrible writing, mister.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

John Breaux

Ok, so he was burried yesterday. I felt I should write a tad about him.

John, I saw you almost everyday, riding around on your bicycle, collecting trash and smiling. I couldn't even really get to know you, the only coherent words you would utter were "hot dogs" and "spaghetti sure is good, eh?". But it was the things you didn't say that meant the most to Louisville. You kept us clean. Every day, you rode around town, trash in one bag, recyclables in another, keeping us sparkling come rain, snow or shine. You smiled at all of us, and we smiled back. When you got hit on the side of the road by that drugged up hippy, the entire town cried. You know there's a GIANT roadside memorial for you, right?
The doctors said you were schizophrenic, but I KNOW that's not it. Sure, you couldn't talk or write or really do much, but you were nice and kind and did what you could to help us all out. We gave you food, free repairs and coffee. You gave us our town idiot and cleanliness.
Goodbye, John. RIP.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

WHEEEE

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Sunday, February 1, 2009

Well Fuck

I have nothing to write. The wormhole is being clogged. Argh.

I will show you the first line, however.

Not "saved" like Jesus saved, like NOT DEAD saved.

Only some people can be saved. Please do not ask us to save your child.
-Make-A-Wish foundation's FAQ

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Face Has Melted

How to stay insane...I swear ur face WILL melt.
Watch it for a while.

http://ualuealuealeualemirror.ytmnd.com/

Friday, January 23, 2009

Writer's Block Sucks.

Here. i didnt even think about anything while I wrote this, much less what came out of my mouth. I wanna post it to see if I can fathom it later.


Don’t go bibbilty over thigns you cant contorl. For instance, this incecant whine that drowns out the furious glares of my coke cans and clothes which disperse the visibility of my floor. Or is that music? For love, I can’t figure out which, yet it appears I am glued to this chair, hoping, praying that writing my internal monolouge will spark whatever dregs of creativity I have left in my medicinaly meddled bog brain. I spend too much time doodling, my juices run dry as a cat’s fur. Dry dry dry dry. But I must.. I have commited myself to completely turning over all that is in me, to find the story that I know I must tell, will tell. I have my best inspirational music, books, music, drawings, music and chat windows open and reciving. Yet nothing comes. Words bubble and dribble throughout this weak thing I call a soul. Kiss kiss didnt see it coming but you cant help but hope for the hearts freedom. Migalicutty words tumble from my fingers, yet nothing concrete I can use. Nothing nothing nothing. Automatic flowers won’t do! Tis a poor excuse for love, my flowers, but its all I have to go on. My ice cold hands long to recive the praise I oft give themy, when they make a good thing pop into my mind when they help me, instead of (like today) skitter and scatter my keys till it looks like they will jump up and dance and taunt me till I can think round. And the letters rerarrange until whaft I be saying aint clear- I’m using words from my own personal inner monolauge now. Soon show you won’t be able to scarely comprehend what I dribble over. Taste my dissastisfaction it’s on my tounge yet its too thick and hot and sticky. Comod for the lady, meep. Aright lets rein things back to the warp in spacetime I call me and others call she. See the insaity that oozes through my eyes and into yours? See how it makes me less and less a girl and more and more an extemsion of the slave to the words that cuts and cuts and cuts everything down from her imagination till nothings left but smoke and tears. This is writing what’s on my mind, my morbid miffle muffin mind that moorodes with the marroon meekrats that miss me. Pft! For lo I say! To keep this up is Sparta, to hope for joyous excuses to use again and again until I am not only a slave to these words but a slave to all that these words mean- which is to say, not much- but still hope to see the goldylocks rays of good story. Buttercake and too much coffee makes me a mental case, which everyone wants to diagnose and poke and bleed and watch but what no one can figure out whats wrong. Truth is, I’m not wrong you are. Your wrong. You hide your humanity behind a cloud of expectation and love and I am not bothers by such bibbldy convictions for I am a monster, I am a slave, I am everything but one of you. I am mabye me, mabye Molly, mabye something else in its entirety, but I can say that that does not bother my yiyness. I can spare say what I am saying for the insanity has worn off- to say, that is, the pills,- and the scary fun fun bit comes in the bit where I do shit just to do shit again as opposed to nothing at all expect pathetic scratches at something diffrent than this madness.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Many Shapes And Weights To Choose From

I will never leave my bedroom, I will never cry at night again, wrap my arms around him and pretend...


Anyone seriosuly against me drawing my eyebrows a la Amanda Palmer? If so, speak now or forever hold your peace. We watching the thingy in school tomorrow?!

Monday, January 12, 2009

Velocoraptor ATTAAAAACK

We all know Jurassic Park.

I could survive for 57 seconds chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor










Started wrestling 2day I AM DEAD. DO NOT APPROACH> I NEED HUGS. AND LOVE.

and mabye some water..... about seven gallons of it, actually.

:) luv u all! Sry in advance if I'm a jerk/dead.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Bash

LOL<>
*I'm AgentRiot in the qoute

It's #876568

search for it in a few days, it'll be up by then!

Sunday, January 4, 2009

They Said

they said I have schizophrenia, and that all my other disorders are symptoms. 

I'm not, am I?

They said it's that or physcosis.

HELP!!!