Thursday, September 27, 2007

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Tuesday, September 25, 2007

I almost feel like a human today...

I think I actually may have slept some decent amount last night.
I want to make things today, especially Halloween decorations. I also have some sewing projects in mind.
Looking for a job....god I will be so happy when I find something simply so I don't have to look anymore. It's really become like an unpaid job for me at this point.
I should really clean my apartment today, I seem to have some sort of energy so maybe it won't be as daunting as it normally is.
Maybe when I'm doing that I can get rid of some stuff. Sell it on ebay, or donate it, or give it away. I've got way too much stuff piling up around here.
Ok...ready, steady, go.

Monday, September 24, 2007

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Saturday, September 22, 2007

Chronology..

Last night I saw a man walking down fifth with a sword.
Then I drank some Admiral Nelson.
Geordie picked us up.
San Marcos is such a weird fucking place.
Denny's even more so.
Had talks and smokes and other smokes and beers.
Came home at 5, ate pizza, drank water.
Woke up five and a half hours later and it was raining!
Making coffee, doing designs in my head.
BestWeekEver turns my giggle mechanism on.

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Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Cut from the same cloth, we are...

It really always comes back to Baudelaire.....

Be Drunk
by Charles Baudelaire
Translated by Louis Simpson

You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it--it's the

only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks

your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually

drunk.

But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be

drunk.

And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of

a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again,

drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave,

the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything

that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is

singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and

wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be

drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be

continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

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Oh you sad internet fucks....

Flickr: Photos from annie stoner
I'm so obsessed with these pictures because she so obviously photoshops her face onto random pictures yet soooo many people seem oblivious to it...she was even on fleshbot for fucks sake. The angles and shadows and lighting and just everything are so wrong...fantasy is one thing, but people seriously think she's real? (also funny because she's not really attractive, yet she puts her unattractive face on these images anyway). It's like it's 1998 again...internet hilarity at it's highest and most unintentional really.

Ask MetaFilter question about her
Fleshbot post about her

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Sunday, September 16, 2007

Oh Bourbon, how I love thee....

Kentucky Bourbon Festival
Valerie (my sister) went to this yesterday. I'm so fucking jealous.

Fuck Yes


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Saturday, September 15, 2007

Scribbled Self-Portrait...


gimme some markers, ten minutes, and a camera phone and apparently I can occupy my time...and yeah the left one is really bigger.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Then leave me to my enemied dreams...

I woke up just now due to my gardeners loving their leaf-blowers way too much. That's the only way I ever know what day it is, "Oh loud noises right outside my door? Must be Tuesday." "Green Eyes" by Nick Cave was playing in my head when I woke up. I haven't listened to "The Boatman's Call" in forever but I remember the part of my dream that put it in my head, where I was explaining that the word "cunt" shouldn't really have much more impact than calling someone "asshole" because it's not as though everytime you call someone an asshole you mean it literally. And then I sang the line "This useless old fucker and his twinkling cunt doesn't care if he gets hurt"....the dreams I have when I take sleeping pills are such these weird, long, narrative things. I don't think I know anyone with green eyes anymore. I used to know a few.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Friday, September 07, 2007

I love clever takedowns...

Now I've never actually heard the entirety of "Big Girls Don't Cry" by Fergie, mainly because I avoid her like she's the motherfucking plague spewing out of the cock-ended arm of some Hentai monster that wants to tentacle-rape me, but this is fucking fantastic:
fourfour: No. No. No. No.
A brief snippet:
"And then there's the most terrible problem with the song: its anti-expression theme, which again, suits someone as bereft of things to say as Fergie is to a T. Actually, asshole, big girls do cry -- it's just that most big girls haven't had extensive Botox and/or plastic surgery to fix their methfaces, and thus still have full use of tear ducts. Big girls do cry and, more importantly, big girls can cry. And god damn it, even if big girls don't cry they sure do whine, don't they Fergie? I want to use that fucking blanket that children miss as a gag on her."
♥♥♥

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Saturday, September 01, 2007

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