i fixed the links for my ‘personal’ page. so instead of looping around to this index, you actually get to see more of me. (crowd roars)
i was driving into SF to pick justin up from work today, when i felt that i was in some sort of time continuum. it felt like the mere 15 minute drive was hours. i looped around downtown sf, looking for a place to park, and i felt like it was this continuous flow. i am attempting to clarify what i was feeling at the time, but it’s not quite getting there.
i hate it when i have all this information i wanted to talk about, and it’s not coming out like i want it to.
that really sucks my dick.
since i can’t remember, what i was thinking of, i decided to head on to another topic: fan mail.
last night, i received a few pieces of fan mail, pertaining to yesterdays entry. i was both pleased and surprised at the same time. i get fan mail, occasionally, but sometimes it’s from people who want me to find god or some shit. whatthefuckever.
both emails, which came in fairly close to each other, talked about how funny they think i am. i think “hey that’s great. i can be pretty funny.”, but, sometimes, when i’m in moods like this, it’s not about being funny but what i feel. (hey johnny, what’s it going to be?) but thanks guys for the email 🙂 you’re the reason that i write this crap (well, not the only reason, but i’m not going to start arguing with myself to get more hits.) always tell me that you love me.
memories part deux
i’m sitting here crawling around my desk, tearing things apart looking for my fumbling towards ecstasy cd, thinking that this would help the semi-writers block that i’m having, but i can’t fucking find it. i’ve torn apart my stereo, my roommates stereo, my cd-case, my cd holder. i know it’s not in my car. i can’t find it in my house. god damnit, thelma!
i think i’ll go do something entertaining now.
like pick my nose or something.
actually, I just found solace, so i can deal. it’s sorta jived my memory about what i was thinking about earlier (dammit i should have pen and paper always around me).
i was dating this psycho-wench for a while.
she absorbed everything i liked and did and
began mirroring me. all i seem to have
picked up is emoticons.
Ralph W. Middaugh, Jr
justin was dinking around his machine, and we started kissing. which lead to us fucking in the kitchen, which didn’t work too well because he is soo tall and even with me on my tip-toes, i couldn’t bend over enough for him to do me like a dog. so we commence into the bedroom, rip our clothes off and fuck like crazy. i say something like “i don’t want to hear you talk about love.” and he says “okay, i love to fuck you then.”
after we are done, and talking, he says something that sparks this weird correlation in my head.
(getting ready to run windows for the first time.)
i remembered my roommate (psycho-bitch irene) calling me when I was in pennsylvania about the fucking rent. which lead my thoughts to when i found a strand of long red hair in the towel in the person’s bathroom i was staying at. which lead me to remember phone sex. which i haven’t done in, well, probably a year. which now leads me to remember making snow angels in the front of the dorm at wilkes-barre university. which reminds me that my friend michael telling me about how his hero did the groundwork for the train between wilkes-barre and new york.
i’m in a strange mood.
i just emailed ralph and told him to entertain me.
every time i go to kiss justin, he says “now don’t bite!”.
i feel angry, sad, depressed, melancholy, aggressive, nosey.
i think i will just go watch another harrison ford movie, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom or
something. Harrison Ford was soooooooooo hot when he was young(er).
shit, this entry is worthless drivel. and it’s past midnight, so it’s the fourth already.
just fuck me running.
(in 1992, there was only 2,000 domains registered on the internet. now there is over 5 million.)
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