a breakfast for losers...

this chair has a hidden political agenda.

1:26AM with sticky thighs and sticky fingers and sweaty bellies and open eyes popping out to say hello.

So, hello.

I find that I speak too fictitiously, no wait, what do I mean by that. I MEAN, yes, fictitiously, in the sense, that I speak without logic, which is sometimes good, but, I feel, like I'm missing out on, no, not missing out, that I'm, vomiting toooo much happiness, and imagery, and rubbish, and that I'm having, seizure of metaphors, and stupid smiling trees singing their hippity happity songs about squirrels eating their apples, and I once heard a joke, which went like this, what's worse than finding a worm in your apple? The holocaust.

Now that's logic.

p.s,,,let's start a revolution on tuesdays. and find this man and become suffocated in his whiskers.

Evening ferrrrvor

When the weather becomes a bit nicer, and the sun is shining slightly, and people are willing to the walk the streets, I'm going to take my camera out, and a backpack filled with balloons, wow, look at all these, commas, but nevertheless, I'm going to seduce people to place said balloons on their heads, stttaaatttiiiccc, and snap--I've captured you. It's my project of knowledge. and by the way, I must say, what a predictable name for such a project, which isn't exactly a project, and I'm sure people will not be easily seduced, and I'll shy behind my camera and my knees will buckle, and this man has become my favourite thing to look at today -- snapped by some person who lives in the netherlands ---------I enjoy their photographs.

I do wish people could pretend to be colour blind for 15 minutes of their life. And pretend to not see the thing sticking out of my face. But this is impossible. Whatever happened to pretending? That we could fly. for awhile.

She told him, "I love you more!"
and he declared she was an extremist, and walked out the front door.
where he killed himself.
underneath the welcome mat.

oh boo hoo.

There is this slight nagging inside of my brain. Nag. Nag. Nag. Sounds like a confused egg of some sort. Nevertheless, there are people out there, right now, having fun. And I'd hope someone would come and pick me up, but they went the opposite way.

Now let's eat some flan.

Richard, stop studying for exams, and come to Flesherton on some sort of flying contraption and swing on a swing for at least four minutes with me. I need to kidnap someone quick, and force them to swing on a swing with me. Or at least someone knock me unconscious. I don't think I can put up with this agonizing sense of boredom, which has dug itself deep inside the middle of my forehead, any longer.

This morning I woke up extremely disoriented, and then proceeded to do a handstand against my wall while listening to a Feng Shui tape I once bought for no apparent reason. I had the most restless sleep where I felt as if I was extremely drunk the entire time. And I dreamt about numerous people -- My grandfather, some strange man with a mustache, many friends, many acquaintances, a friend who I've never met in person who was washing the dishes with my mother and then we proceeded to roll on the floor laughing -- which was my most favourite dream out of them all.

And I wasted two hours without knowing it this morning.

And now I've wasted another two hours on this computer.

I have nothing to say these days which doesn't involve the question of, "Is it a terrible reason to go to a school because they are offering you a lot of money?"

Other than that, here are some friendly faces:

Sweater Seduction

Grandma and Pat

Beautiful

Ye Olde Window Shot