hell always follows with me. i don't know- having known heaven, all else is misery? or whatever you want to say. these thoughts as vauge as shapes in fog. how do i say what i mean, when language barely holds solid beneath the weight i put on it now? my lies & hyperboyle are tought to make into solid words, words that hand fluid in the pholgiston. the aether, whatever. truth, though? i could say hive mind, i could say phantasmagory, i could say hell is psychomachia. there are all sorts of baroque words i could throw around. man, it's hard to sound all hard n' shit, while i'm watching angel. i dunno, joss wedon sure takes the stuffing out of "i'm so fucking magical" assholes like me. right? an argument i've been having lately with an ex. less an argument than the occasional salvo. whatever. fuck her. thing about ex-girlfriends? or ex-nebulous-whatevers? is the fact that they arn't right. you know? fuck them, because uh, they didn't stick it out. or i mean. they just weren't what you needed. like an anti-cars song. i guess that means a little something for jenny. she's the won who runs the gamut, who has my number. i guess i have a number, & that is 2. 2 is the number of mordicai, because mordicai is the crypto-abrahamite solution to the me dillema. uh, shit, am i still talking? fuck i am the best. i just don't even need to shut up.