Comments | whychromosome: best of luck to those of you who you enthrall.

whychromosome

best of luck to those of you who you enthrall.

Mar 04, 2002 00:16

vegan hot chocolate burned a hole in my gut the size of a four-by-six index card with a rambling note for alana. she wasnt happy about something. neither is megan. & its driving me crazy. IM SAD ABOUT IT. "i can fix this if you let me, i can fix this damn whole thing." neither were to be cheered up tonight. so i rode a running nose to the other ( Read more... )

Comments 4

once again youruntouchable March 4 2002, 07:24:42 UTC

Hey dawl, i am sory about last night. I fell asleep and thought ur email would wake me up, but i guess it didnt. I didnt even know that you had called. Dont think that i didnt want to talk to you about this b/c i did want to. I dont really kno what to say tho. I wasnt ignoring you and that wasnt my intent at all, i didnt feel good and i thought if i got up and danced that i could forget about all this being sick shit, but i didnt work. Just dont be mad about this.
Megz

Re: once again youruntouchable March 4 2002, 07:26:21 UTC

A question. what did u nean when u sent that thing "i love you was all i needed to see..."
Megz

Re: once again whychromosome March 4 2002, 08:38:12 UTC

sleep: fine.
dancing: only with an oven mit.
mysterious lines: go like this.

i love you was all i needed to see
i saw it in your eyes
but you werent looking at me.

its a line from a song by The Last 40 Seconds (the language of flowers). i used it as my "signature" on my parent's aol account. so all my emails from their house have that at the bottom. but since i never use aol itself, just aol.com via netscape, i always forget its there. did that go to your phone? im an idiot.

todzy11 March 4 2002, 07:57:20 UTC

Jesus was replaced with Science years ago, and I don't feel I carry enough weight in my soul to Atlas that magnitude of responsibility.
But then again, maybe that's the trick.
Either way, there's nothing wrong with being the messenger boy for Candy and Bullshit.

A ticket stub to prove love.
But how to prove a longing?
I've got twenty-four hours worth of material to prove that.

But surely I jest.
Yes, still.
Banging heads on clouded shower stalls, leaving marks by stealing hard water stains with my face, cleanliness is next to emptiness, marginally yours, the new Jesus.