Fire, asshole, FIRE!
Let me take a moment here to take a deep breath, force some control (albeit temporary) of myself, and clarify my last entry. Not realizing that i had left out my reason for being excited, i finished the post. What was it? I realized that the cause of my antsiness and irritable depression was that i had not had a cigarette in 2 days. How did this make me happy? It helped me realize that like only sucked then and there due to a chemical addiction that i was inadvertantly starting to rid myself of. Thats right, i am about to attempt to quit smoking. Wish me luck.
[exhales]
FUCK GERTRUDE STEIN
And so here we are once again on a monday night trying my hella damnedest to read another fuckin book for one of my torturous english classes (ironic that this is my major), and at first i am thinking to myself "this book aint half bad" as i read the first quarter of it last week. Finding that the remainder of it was to be read for tomorow, i figured, "golly gee, finishing the book today shouldnt be too hard. its only 150 more pages". And yes, this would be true if the book i were reading wasnt a free-for-all CRAP AND SHITFEST. I cant stand this shit, i cant stand it. It is the same crap over and mother fuckin over again, like flinging feces at a wall. At first, it makes brown spots on the nice paintjob, but after a while, there is no wall, there is no paint job, all you see is crap. That is how this fuckin book is. Let the imitation begin- "Well, gosh i got to thinking that really i be thinkin about possibly certainly loving you for always and never but then i got me to thinking about nothing in particular which spurred me on thinking about certainly never thinking again because i possibly think that maybe the future is the past because never have i wanted to say the word love in such a context other than possibly and never for reasons that i will allude to but never actually explain due to me being a fucking HORRIBLE WRITER". FUCK YOU! It was SO BAD. Its not just bad. I can sit through bad. I can sit quietly through bad. But this book- FUCKIN SHIT, i actually was screaming, i was waving my arms, saying "SHES SAYING IT AGAIN, did she not just SAY THIS TEN FUCKIN TIMES!?" there are literally 80 pages of just love and feeling and clah blah blah, and back and forth and it makes NO FUCKING SENSE, there is no movement, it is just repetition and FUCK YOU FOR WRITING IT, gertrude stein! Shit ass FUCK YOU. i am going to go to my teacher, and make an appointment with her, and scream at her for making me read this crap pot. Supposedly this book was a work of literary experimentation. Well well well, motherfucker, i guess pissing off and boring the reader to the point of tears is considered an experiment. Well you know what else is an experiment?
What are the effects of placing a bar of soap on a ham sandwich?
The results: WHO GIVES A SHIT? STOP WASTING MY FUCKING TIME.
[exhales]
FUCK GERTRUDE STEIN
And so here we are once again on a monday night trying my hella damnedest to read another fuckin book for one of my torturous english classes (ironic that this is my major), and at first i am thinking to myself "this book aint half bad" as i read the first quarter of it last week. Finding that the remainder of it was to be read for tomorow, i figured, "golly gee, finishing the book today shouldnt be too hard. its only 150 more pages". And yes, this would be true if the book i were reading wasnt a free-for-all CRAP AND SHITFEST. I cant stand this shit, i cant stand it. It is the same crap over and mother fuckin over again, like flinging feces at a wall. At first, it makes brown spots on the nice paintjob, but after a while, there is no wall, there is no paint job, all you see is crap. That is how this fuckin book is. Let the imitation begin- "Well, gosh i got to thinking that really i be thinkin about possibly certainly loving you for always and never but then i got me to thinking about nothing in particular which spurred me on thinking about certainly never thinking again because i possibly think that maybe the future is the past because never have i wanted to say the word love in such a context other than possibly and never for reasons that i will allude to but never actually explain due to me being a fucking HORRIBLE WRITER". FUCK YOU! It was SO BAD. Its not just bad. I can sit through bad. I can sit quietly through bad. But this book- FUCKIN SHIT, i actually was screaming, i was waving my arms, saying "SHES SAYING IT AGAIN, did she not just SAY THIS TEN FUCKIN TIMES!?" there are literally 80 pages of just love and feeling and clah blah blah, and back and forth and it makes NO FUCKING SENSE, there is no movement, it is just repetition and FUCK YOU FOR WRITING IT, gertrude stein! Shit ass FUCK YOU. i am going to go to my teacher, and make an appointment with her, and scream at her for making me read this crap pot. Supposedly this book was a work of literary experimentation. Well well well, motherfucker, i guess pissing off and boring the reader to the point of tears is considered an experiment. Well you know what else is an experiment?
What are the effects of placing a bar of soap on a ham sandwich?
The results: WHO GIVES A SHIT? STOP WASTING MY FUCKING TIME.