i be walkin' god like a dog
my life is a sack of shit. today i got hit in the face with a bottle and screamed at, something ala "you are a fucking whore. a fucking whore!!!" and i also decided that i hate everything. except for maybe still the mars volta. but otherwise, everything is done. thanks a lot world. it was great for a while, but now i'm done with you. good luck with
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(i can't wait to see your sweet self on saturday! umm..explosion? i think so.)
-mal
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I can't believe that you are still subjected to such bullshit. Since when did the words "break" and "up" mean "Cool, so, see you every few with breakable glass objects conveniently at hand and the same tired insults on my tongue?" Fuckit. You already know what I think about Livia. I feel the same way now as I did back then, so I'll leave it with the time-honoured and oft-repeated line of classic English literature: Sum bitch needs 'ta git tol'!As for me, I'm back to trying to be one of the hottest negros in the Estados Unidos, but seeing as I'm in Oakland (!) and not Seattle, the competition is rather stiff. I do have to return to Anacortes before coming to Seattle, but I promise to come see you tons in June, July and motherfuckin' August, what. I found that funny just now because for me, August is one of the most blah months ever and the bearer of name quite unbecoming. It's like Belgium, sandwiched awkwardly between the Netherlands and France, a threshhold you cross between summer and school ( ... )
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You do realize that I am just blatantly coming to Anacortes then, right? And I am going to take you out for champagne and ships. I hope your mama Sissy-Lu can handle seeing my ass again, because I can't wait much longer to get down and dirty with yo bad self. Please call me as soon as you get home... (206)568-3461. Or email me. Or whatever you can do. I can't wait to see you.
--Rosemary
PS: Kris. You are not a negro.
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Institutions are horseshit. Finals week is a jab. A jab of a cruel, jagged, rusty, tear stained dagger right into my heart.
You know I'm becoming physically ill because of the fact I can't make it to the Mars Volta. DO YOU REALIZE THIS?! This is the constant problem of my existence. I have to stay up here in the fucking Ham because of FINALS and this is my story of misery and getting fucked by the shitty education system I'm participating in. Blah!
Please write me back and tell me I will survive my life's stupidity.
crying as I look at pictures of Omar,
Mal
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You will survive the all-consuming jabbiness of this stupid world, and here's why: Remember that time you were the hottest, most mature, sought-after, brilliant and fashionable babe this side of anything? And remember that time that we (hilariously) went to see the Mars Volta play with System Of A Down this summer? Yeah. Dag yo, isn't that enough to keep you going?
I bought "Love In A Trashcan" and it has so many sweet hits I can barely stand it. You have to get it. The disco-esque songs that we boogied too all sound great right now in this stodgy, rainy environment. I took the cd to a place called Marcus' Martini Heaven last night, and convinced the bartender to play it over the speakers-- and the whole joint got down.
In conclusion, you are hot.
Love,
Rosemary
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