2006-2007 like evil siamese twins
note: go to your calendar and find the first entry for each month of 2006. post the first line [or so] of it in your journal, and that's your "year in review".
FUCK!
JANUARY
a skeleton of trust:
i cut my hair for the first time in a year and a half; the ends felt like wires. red wine tastes like steak. i'm hardly a new woman.
FEBRUARY
notknot:
i hate you, cunt.
i'm waiting for something wonderful and redeeming to happen. lately i just sit here trying to convince myself that i'm, like, totally okay and shit. fucking laughable.
MARCH
ms. dyck if you're nasty:
i haven't used those muscles in a while.
APRIL
i'm the kinda nigga that's built to last:
there are three lighters in my fanny pack. poemz is fun! grocery shopping is funner! i love that the fancy cheese dept. of associated is called CHEESE ISLAND. i'm gonna build a tree house on the top shelf and get fat. "yo, where's the jell-o at?!" yussss!
my girlfriend left me, i is not knowing what to do.
MAY
I miss capitalization and other things. Not procrastination + Adderall.
JUNE
JULY
And I'm in the mood for Love, finding a woman's body instead of a man's naked against the powecords by the bed. Two shirts shed sleepily in the middle of the night. It's too hot for clothing or candles. It's too hot for an affair.
AUGUST
Ralph:
I want to crawl into a small hole. A very small hole. No. Nevermind, I want the human suicide capsule -- nothingness, yours. Somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else. First I want to punish you, whip you, make you cry. Then I want to fuck her like a man. Then I want to fuck you like a man. Then I want to fuck everything like a man.
SEPTEMBER
I WANT SOME BOOTY!
OCTOBER
hard. hardly.
I'm so hard up. It's fun pretending to be Aegamemnon in the rain while screaming, "FUCK YOU, MOTHERFUCKER." (wait) And then we shook the branches and held each other while droplets dropletted on us. Gross.
NOVEMBER
Yesterday I had a panic attack about all of my "stuff" (it's throw everything away time) and then I spilled hot dog juice in my sneaker.
DECEMBER
Two words: OUT OF CONTROL.
Durrrrr...ok
FUCK!
JANUARY
a skeleton of trust:
i cut my hair for the first time in a year and a half; the ends felt like wires. red wine tastes like steak. i'm hardly a new woman.
FEBRUARY
notknot:
i hate you, cunt.
i'm waiting for something wonderful and redeeming to happen. lately i just sit here trying to convince myself that i'm, like, totally okay and shit. fucking laughable.
MARCH
ms. dyck if you're nasty:
i haven't used those muscles in a while.
APRIL
i'm the kinda nigga that's built to last:
there are three lighters in my fanny pack. poemz is fun! grocery shopping is funner! i love that the fancy cheese dept. of associated is called CHEESE ISLAND. i'm gonna build a tree house on the top shelf and get fat. "yo, where's the jell-o at?!" yussss!
my girlfriend left me, i is not knowing what to do.
MAY
I miss capitalization and other things. Not procrastination + Adderall.
JUNE
JULY
And I'm in the mood for Love, finding a woman's body instead of a man's naked against the powecords by the bed. Two shirts shed sleepily in the middle of the night. It's too hot for clothing or candles. It's too hot for an affair.
AUGUST
Ralph:
I want to crawl into a small hole. A very small hole. No. Nevermind, I want the human suicide capsule -- nothingness, yours. Somewhere else somewhere else somewhere else. First I want to punish you, whip you, make you cry. Then I want to fuck her like a man. Then I want to fuck you like a man. Then I want to fuck everything like a man.
SEPTEMBER
I WANT SOME BOOTY!
OCTOBER
hard. hardly.
I'm so hard up. It's fun pretending to be Aegamemnon in the rain while screaming, "FUCK YOU, MOTHERFUCKER." (wait) And then we shook the branches and held each other while droplets dropletted on us. Gross.
NOVEMBER
Yesterday I had a panic attack about all of my "stuff" (it's throw everything away time) and then I spilled hot dog juice in my sneaker.
DECEMBER
Two words: OUT OF CONTROL.
Durrrrr...ok