August 4th, 2003

modern nazgul

my apartment inexplicably smells like vanilla icing.

this whole weekend paint smears together from a distinct lack of sleep. was it Sunday or Saturday that i did which & i did what. sounds like a madaline l'engle porno flick. i got a thank you letter from adam & theresa for showing up at their wedding. the gift i got them were these special glasses that let you see angels, so theresa's penned "thanks for the angels" beneath the form letter. i'm like "i've still got connections in my old haunts. you can take the boy out of the city but you can't take the city out of the boy."

i've been pretty high maintanance lately, i realized the other day. its this damn distance. so i'm going to chill the fuck out, especially when the all exclusive debut of mordicai pistol hands is about to hit the silver screens of new york city. all the blood is really maple syrup i assure you.
  • Current Music
    crown me king- "the mirrors in his palace are dark."
blur shotgun

new candy review: snickers almonds.

i don't eat alot of candy. i don't really like it. i mean, i like it of course. every enzyme of digestion is practically designed so that sugar is a treat. but i don't crave it, & in fact, most snack foods just annoy the piss out of me. thats why, every so often, when i eat one of the new types of candy that are flooding the market, i feel like i need to have a position.

the new almond snickers is alright. i mean, it didn't frustrate me into violence. but i just don't get it. it isn't anywhere near as good as a snickers. how do you fuck up that formulae? am i just to invested in the tastes of the old candies to appreciate the new ones? i don't really think thats possible, since i didn't really like candy to begin with. the cookie cup reese cups were pretty okay when i had them back when they first came out.
  • Current Mood

all the colours of old hate.

cobblestone labyrinth day today. everything is a disordered mosiac. what i find fades. the notes all end in unreachable clefs. all sorts of things are cancer coloured except the shine of swords, the hum of the machines of tommorow. i hallucinate organ music, cadenced to the beating of my heart. built into my flesh are the weapons for killing the future. gods & demons buzzing their agendas in my ear.

i read the most recent harry potter book & found every character lacking any redeeming qualities. there isn't even a villian to root for any more. i suppose snape still has something going for him, as you can't blame him for his childhood.
  • Current Mood
    the medicine of poison.
cigarette burns

the satisfaction of a head shot.

kent is already feeling all burnt bridge town, buildings are tombstone looming over head. here i lied down & now its time for me to revenant myself out of this university cemetary. i'll lie down no more unless its one of those dear penthouse moments with you-know-who. but i really don't feel like getting my boxing gloves laced on just to make sure things are fine. can't they just be fine? why do i have to go all explorative surgery on their ass? i told my landlord that i'm moving out for sure on the tenth (08/10/03) but he didn't mention anything about floating payments. is it still illegal to murder people? where are the lobbiests for my special intrests?
  • Current Music
    crown me king- "the artful dodger seizes fagan's throne"