A Black Feather, A poison pen... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- everytime i think of you i feel shot right through with a bolt of blue ebb and flow of adrenaline. the aggravating tide of consultants i bitched about last week has become a reality and now i must cut my nails because i broke one a couple of days ago and it is interfering with my ability to type properly. (if you are wondering, i am a guy with long nails filed to neat, tapered points, like DeNiro in Angel Heart) it sucks, i will have to cut them all back to a more reasonable length so that they can grow out evenly again i'm worried about daxle, i had a conversation with her on MSN Messenger last night that did not bode well (bobby, any clues as to what precisely is the story here?) i really do hope she's okay. (i'll admit i don't know her very well, not even in this limited electronic context, but i've always appreciated the things she writes at blather, even when i don't necessarily agree with them) my head is all over the place today. i get paid tomorrow, tomorrow makes five years since the day i met Samantha (i'm a masochist for remembering that fact, knowing she's been out of my life almost half of that time now anyway, but then that's the hell of it, no?)
i had some other stuff to say here, but i figured maybe decorum was best, for a change
Some days, i talk too much and say too little i am a definite product of the MTV Generation 3:28 p.m. - 2001-07-11 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||