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The Past

Friday, October 24, 2003
-**-

I have found some kind of temporary sanity in this...
shit, blood, and cum on my hands.

I've
come
round
full circle.

Disregard anything I may have said in the past week concerning my emotions. Whatever has been felt ceases to exist at this present time. Like a kangaroo knocking at your door, you say "What the.. ", and be sure to leave Mother of god out of it. I don't believe in cursing the dead. They can't fight back, it's unfair, and overall, probably unsanitary.

This brings me to my next topic: seamonkeys.
I saw my first seamonkey today. She wasn't much to look at, but Phil is going to try to play God and have her brains (eh?) fucked out. He says she can squeeze an entire population out before she dies. This ought to be fun. I like pencils.

There is still glass next to me. It hasn't been washed in days, maybe weeks. I feel like I'm dying, I know I am. A crumpled piece of paper told me so, so I kept him around and he sits on my desk next to me.

I make sentences like a 3rd grader. Lot of flashbacks from third grade have been happening lately, seems to me a bit strange. And lately, I have felt like I've regressed back to those "happier" times in my life. With opportunity comes options. And with options comes choices. Someone said you're not supposed to start a sentence with "and" but too fucking bad. If you don't like it, feel free to drop me an email with your concerns.

Midterm in exactly 4h. I studied, sure, but it didn't soak in. I'm not a god-damn sponge Mr. Citovsky. Your class won't mean anything when I have a job in where-ever-the-fuck in a few years. Tomorrow my mp3 player arrives. The robLog is hot tonight.

Apologies:
I'll apologize now to anyone who I may have hurt this week, or anyone who took offense to a post, or on the MUD, as happens often. I won't tell you irl because this isn't directed towards anyone, and those who feel it is, or should be, will probably be more offended. That's right, I love you all equally. If I didn't it wouldn't be fair to the people I dislike. So.. ignore this whole section and keep reading.

Halo.

I'll bring back the post-it notes when I get a chance sometime. I have a bunch leftover *gasp!* from last semester *gasp!!*..

. o 0 ( Oh shut up already )

*nods*

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming. Do you find this all hard to follow? What about today's word? Did you find it? It's staring you in the face from the lucky (sucky) eight-position this fine morning. Someday, somehow, I'll figure out what exactly frogs were thinking when they first started croaking (the sound, not death).

Plan "Keep the morons awake" is going very well thus far. Tomorrow (today for those not living on GLST (Greyland Standard Time)) we're going to hit up another building on campus in hopes that we're not going to be the victim of Ghost Town, Long Island. People really ought to stay on this campus on the weekends. The reason that there's nothing to do is cuz no one's here!! (pure speculation). Damnit, I AM always here. bolTON is ALWAYS here! There's gotta be something to do fug-bizzits!

Tele, tele. hopefully this will ring at some point tomorrow. There is some business I'd like to take care of all around with several people. Don't be disinterested if you're not one of them. At some point, I'm sure your tele will ring too. If not, I'll have Glenn say a prayer for you. That *might* work, but he says God is a busy man usually. Meetings, rioting angels, and the like. Paper birds.

If anyone needs anything, or has found a girl that is dumb enough to meet me, drop me an email. I never really get any important emails. It would be a change from the norm if I didn't have to delete school junk-mail every other day or so and there was just ONE solid piece of information that actually had the potential to shift this meteorological path toward some other planet in hopes of a mass collision. Why do they always miss? I hate the horses today.

I will see thee again tomorrow Mr. Blogger. Oh how sucky your life must be, a slave to the template, a victim of post & publish. *tsk tsk* Somebody throw this soul a calendar so he can watch his life wither day by day.

Have good mosh pitting!

Grey (4:28 AM)

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