the ghosts of the ghosts of ghosts.......
this is freedom....an outlet that no one gives a shit about, or reads. how amazingly perfect. my pants are off and i'm typing stupid words about stupid shit about my stupid life. i pick my nose and flick boogers across the room. (added happiness for hearing the dry ones hit the floor) i fantasize about living alone in the woods, but realize the folly in my thoughts. music and literature keep my blood circulating, fleshy and pink. i value past moments, seconds, sometimes more than the present. it's something i'm working on. huzzah for writing whatever the fuck i want, and huzzah for the antiquated venue of live journal......