It is my twentieth birthday. Uh..meh.

Mood: cranky
Music: ryan adams, yes.

I have a birthday coming up, and I am poor. I will not lie to you, friends that I may have here and neglect badly, but I miss my paid account and icons. I will accept such a generous gift and in turn I will mail a mixed disc and an original piece of art to my gift giver.

Someone shoot me for how pitiful I am, asking for such things.

But am sad.

Preeeety iconses.

Mood: high
Music: Snow-Emiliana Torrini

Mood: calm

I hate modem connections. I have some fucking pics of my person I wish to post. Photobucket is being slow and I lack patience.
Maybe later. Excited? No. Well you shouldn't be.
I am a scruff.

Mood: mellow
Music: Honeymoon Child-Emiliana Torrini

Talking to Jonny's Dad. Bizarro.
And Maffy is not getting the message that Ryan Adams is the definitive man bitch and one of the finest musicians ever, ever.

And I need to take a shower now. Smoke. Go and hang with Amy and Josh. Bitch alot.

All irrelevant and such.

La di fucking da.

Mood: in pain, bitches

Well, I'm not dead or any heinous shit like that. I did however, have to take a wee ride in an ambulance on Monday. At work. I could not walk.
They shot me in the hip with demerol or something to the like. Jonny came to the hospital to sit with me and then take me back to his apartment so we could eat pizza and watch In America. I lost my job as a result of this inability to walk.
Fibro Myalgia. Fuck you. I am so not having this.

Did I mention Jonny and I broke up a month ago? Not that it matters. He's my best friend. Still together as much as we were before. He takes me to the movies and out to eat and cooks me dinner just as he always did.

It's a very peculiar thing. But probably for the best. I need to get my shit in order.

I thought about disappearing to Pennsylvania for a few months. Harass people. Save some money. Figure out the school situation.

Bad idea. Those people, my family, are fucking batshit. And I have many many medical needs.

The need to get my ass to the Y and sign up for some Yoga classes being one of them.

So yeah, I need to get a paid account again, but really...should I be spending money on such things?

Blah fucking blah.

Hey, sidewalk_ashes, maybe I'll rob a bank and come for a visit.

Mood: calm
Music: Liquid Diamonds-Tori Amos

1.) Copy and paste this into your journal:
<*font color="Your User Name"> <*b>Your User Name<*/b> <*/font>
2.) Eliminate the asterisks.
2 1/2.) Replace "yourusername" with your user name.
3.) See what color you are

abyssalbrown


No one reads my actual posts, so why not be inane and fun?
stolen from truntles by the by.

Mood: tired

Uh huh.


[poem]uncle sam's finest cocoa (coke) .


With hot cocoa
My green halloween mug
Chipped at the edges
Like so many of us

I do not salute
Uncle Sam screaming
From upon my wall
Was it not so long ago
I was dreaming
Of a soldier coming home?

She said to me,
As I smoked my cigarette,
"They knocked his eye out"
I never would have thought
He could be so emaciated
Violence lended itself to cocaine
So the evidence accused

Where has my purity gone
That was so sacred in his heart
Where has his mind left him at
A state so pulled apart
Chipped at the edges?

Why do I write a poem
About this solder
On drinking cocoa and smoking cigarettes
and is he always here. here. here. with me?

Ready to rise out of the recesses
Bearing pieces of a younger girl
And showing signs of a broken man

Michael. Wherever you are.
Chipped away at the edges.
Can you still feel?
And if I could love you like fourteen
Could you be healed?

and I hope again to live this life, to see you once more before I died

Mood: calm
Music: Snow-emiliana torrini

I had a fucking website, an incomplete one, but a site with the fic on it. Hell!
Maybe I'll get her going, again. Uh er...I am medicated and I need to finish some shit. Hard to do!

Mood: calm
Music: Today Has Been Okay-Emiliana Torrini

The creek kicked at the rocks
Swore I saw the same thing
Four years before
Tye-die tattered
Over worn
I have love in my heart
For these mountain roads
The mystery of a concrete tree
Even if it’s just a story to be told

I have made my shrine
To that hallowed place and time
Ugly as it felt
As beautiful as sunshine on changing trees
Clouds bowing down low to the mountain
The barely felt speed of things

I will always fly forward changed
And return to this the same

Mood: calm
Music: Suzanne-Leonard Cohen