Friday, July 22, 2005
I cut my finger at work today, and it gusssshed. Right where it bends, so it talks. My boss, who often flips out at the tiniest things, drove me to my mother's work. A lovely lady put a bandaid on my finger. I would marry her if I could. I got off work an hour early just so someone could put a bandaid on my finger.
and there is a man, whose name really suggests boyish goodlooks, mutters curses upon my soul when I'm not looking. Or so I assume. But really he is a sweet, quiet man who hasn't changed since I was five. I don't think he will ever die, and he will forever fill the ketchup bottles while I hide his chicken fingers.
and to end this rather pointless entry, which by the way was typed with great pains, here are some words from a wise man///
Everything's alright, form is emptiness and
emptiness is form, and we're here forever, in
one form or another, which is empty. Everything's
alright, we're not here, there, or anywhere.
Everything's alright, cats sleep.
and there is a man, whose name really suggests boyish goodlooks, mutters curses upon my soul when I'm not looking. Or so I assume. But really he is a sweet, quiet man who hasn't changed since I was five. I don't think he will ever die, and he will forever fill the ketchup bottles while I hide his chicken fingers.
and to end this rather pointless entry, which by the way was typed with great pains, here are some words from a wise man///
Everything's alright, form is emptiness and
emptiness is form, and we're here forever, in
one form or another, which is empty. Everything's
alright, we're not here, there, or anywhere.
Everything's alright, cats sleep.
