Saturday, February 2nd, 2002 | 16:50
M. O. P. I. fantasies

I remember you and me used to spend the whole goddamned day in bed. -Third Eye Blind (Losing A Whole Year)


Phrase of the day: Appropriately remixed.


Should I have to tell you? Dalva Bar? Scissor Violence? So little time. I missed the bus. My right to fire prevention has been compromised by the overwhelming lack of consciousness. No really, look it up. I datedatedare you. Freudian slip of the fist. My house creaks like sweater fuzz. Scratch in all the right places. What the hell do I have to do ** *** *** ** ******?!?!?!? Maybe you do. Maybe I might have to be stupid. (I do enough of thatyesterday) Subjectservantloyallapdog-mastercallercantyou help me be *****. Who made me the queen of England?

I'm so wrong for this job.


Survival depends on my ability to fake it when it counts.

I hate being spacked with the newspaper.

Watch out for me. Matches for me. Matches get me through. Romper Room. Talon. Dead on. Come on?
Oh Reich The sun burned through my retinas.
Replacements: five for a dollar. Hydroponically home-grown. All in all, the clock is slow. Look at the pretty flowers.
Please sir, que pasa dillio?
Be scarred, quel sardines them all?


Tell me if you read this far. Tell me if you know what I mean. Any of it. Tell me if you think you do. Tell me if you think you're zinc.


This is my jail cell. So very pleased to be meeting you.

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