huh?
"The indigenous people of alaska? What the fuck are you talking about? the Eskimos? or the drunken Redneck settlers who never see the sunshine who are up to their ball sacks with raw dead fish guts on a boat for 9 months out of the year." - Kurt Cobain, Journals
Ok, so im scrolling through my 45 meaningless comments (thank you all so much) feeling mighty raw, when it hits me like a bolt of lightening: "you can ban people from commenting on your journal" (that was in a kind of god-to-moses-on-the-mountain kind of voice). so that problem should be taken care of.
OK. IT IS BEAUTIFUL OUTSIDE. IF YOU HAVE NOT BEEN OUT FOR AT LEAST AN HOUR, THEN, AS SOON AS YOU FINISH READING THIS INSIGHTFUL/ILLUMINATING ENTRY, YOU WILL GET YOUR NERDLY ASS OUTSIDE AND YOU WILL ENJOY IT.
Have you every noticed that "doing" (as in "im doing the dishes") and "DOING!" (as in "DOING!") are spelled the same?
yeah im done.
(from | simon & garfunkel - the sound of silence)
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed, In the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence
Ok, so im scrolling through my 45 meaningless comments (thank you all so much) feeling mighty raw, when it hits me like a bolt of lightening: "you can ban people from commenting on your journal" (that was in a kind of god-to-moses-on-the-mountain kind of voice). so that problem should be taken care of.
OK. IT IS BEAUTIFUL OUTSIDE. IF YOU HAVE NOT BEEN OUT FOR AT LEAST AN HOUR, THEN, AS SOON AS YOU FINISH READING THIS INSIGHTFUL/ILLUMINATING ENTRY, YOU WILL GET YOUR NERDLY ASS OUTSIDE AND YOU WILL ENJOY IT.
Have you every noticed that "doing" (as in "im doing the dishes") and "DOING!" (as in "DOING!") are spelled the same?
yeah im done.
(from | simon & garfunkel - the sound of silence)
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed, In the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence