This journal died at 10:42 p.m., EDT, Friday, July 16th, 2004. In fact, it's deader than dead. It's positively ashen.

- this is the squire, signing off

THIS WAY UP
ásquireofdimness has fragile contents which may break!

anyone goes out of their way to antagonize me, i'll say and do anything. you're a lucky fuckin duck you weren't here.

and by the way, who was the one who first threatened ("warned", actually) physical violence? do tell, donte.

- THE motherfuckin squire

i iz ali g. respec.

how large be an atom? is it smaller den a sand?
yes, much smaller.
so dey like a salt den innit?

please comment, anonymously or otherwise, and berate me for my actions over the past few days.

I really fucking need to just be told off.

Seriously.

Thank you.

- the squire

Happy Dead Guy day! yaaaaaaay

On Friday night, my dad got high (guess who smoked him out) and, in his stoned brew of regret and fuckerness, he decided to "trade" kids with my mom for the weekend. greaaaaat ( Read more... )

There's a reason this is all happening at once.

Why is it that every time I find someone interesting and decent, they are torn from me, or I am torn from them? It's like clockwork, ever since I was 6! London at age 6. Rob. Bevan. Myself. Then, you had to go too ( Read more... )

I like Alison Goldfrapp. She is insane.

I have to get my shirt from Lauren's.

I have to do my laundry.

I have to go out tonight.

I have to be snuck in.

It's cold out there!

But it's sunny.

And because of that, I must be off to tan.

- The Squire