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27 septiembre shithead养成日志请勿对号入座。
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my quote unquote slight sitting-on-my-ass period of time is officially over now. i almost forgot how good it feels to have a hangover-free weekend.
gris-gris | 19-sep-2009
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language doesn't picture things exactly as they are.
instead, it replaces him with capital A and lower-case r-x-x-x-r. when did we start using language to express ourselves? does it make our expression stronger by replacing something with something else? gris-gris | 21-sep-2009
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ok. so this is what i really wanna say.
i might have just met the most clueless thing ever. a douchebag who's been fucking around with everyone.
i mean, dude, pls look at yourself. seriously, did you parents raise you on shit?
do you have any idea how badly i've wanted to fire a warning shot into your head every time you bark at me in butchered english?
oh dear lord. i know, there has to be a reason for him to be here. comic relief.
his mission accomplished. could you just let him die in a car accident or send him to north korea for good or something? (no, seriously, it doesn't bother me to say such thing). i mean, it's for everyone's good.
gris-gris | 27-sep-2009
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前阵上课和在BSB的美好经历险些让我忘了现实世界仍旧是一坨屎：以that douchebag为代表的小屎虫仍坚持粪战在造屎第一线。智商之低，是奥运会冠军级别的。残奥会，fyi。自视甚高是合法的，但如果你屎性不改，执着于用胳肢窝思考问题，请你尽快去鼓楼随便挑个公厕（男女不限）再随便挑个蹲式坑位把自己溺死吧。从屎中来，到屎中去，so to speak。知道为何你单身？那是因为啊孩子，古今中外，无论异性恋同性恋双性恋人畜恋人兽恋甚至自恋，你都不是他们的那一杯茶啊。这用的是排除法。不相信？孩子啊不如这样解释罢，你是屎已是个不争的事实，假设有人恋你，那么无外乎异食癖恋物癖二者之一或二者兼备。而他们爱滴也不是你的灵魂（如果屎有灵魂的话），而是爱你作为屎的形态。与其如此，你何不醒悟过来尽快了断自己，为有机蔬菜种植业平添一份养料？ 20 mayo Harper Pitt aka Mormon WifeI dreamed we were there. The plane leapt the tropopause, the safe air, and attained the outer rim, the ozone, which was ragged and torn, patches of it threadbare as old cheesecloth, and that was frightening. But I saw something that only I could see, because of my astonishing ability to see such things: Souls were rising, from the earth far below, souls of the dead, of people who had perished, from famine, from war, from the plague, and they floated up, like skydivers in reverse, limbs all akimbo, wheeling and spinning. And the souls of these departed joined hands, clasped ankles, and formed a web, a great net of souls, and the souls were three-atom oxygen molecules, of the stuff of ozone, and the outer rim absorbed them, and was repaired. Nothing's lost forever. In this world, there's a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we've left behind, and dreaming ahead. At least I think that's so.
So when we think we've escaped the unbearable ordinariness and, well, untruthfulness of our lives it's really only the same old ordinariness and falseness rearranged into the appearance of novelty and truth. Nothing unknown is knowable. Angels in America by Tony Kushner 04 febrero when the wheels ceased to spin.... haven't slept for more than 36 hours and i still feel like shit. or should i say, feellikeshit again. . . "hey Jack it's me, i don't mean to bother you but something's been on my mind. at the end of this road that climbs the horizon will be reached in a matter of miles. and when the wheels cease to spin the walls and the fences will grow higher than redwood trees. and i know your demise. and i fear what will happen when the road fails to flow under me. oh Jack you see, i felt like your mirror with the wind whipping through my hair. when the wheels ceased to spin and i cased my surroundings, i realized i hadn't gone anywhere. when the problems i'd left with couches in alleys, where no one would ever claim. and the hardest part was sifting through the pieces of the rain soaked and rotten remains when i got home." . 26 septiembre german greenthe day is a german green with a dash of stupid blue you knew where I'd be and I had to look at you a day just as young as a brighton mother your telephone rang but you didn't bother after short years, I've stopped coming about I've scooped your fears and NYCed you out you didn't not know but still you burst don't let your love go to benson hearst don't worry I'm as cool as spanish whiskey ice I'm going to liverpool to live another life everytime between leeds and sheffield I count my deeds, and the dead killed |
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