I wonder the same . . .

I always feel compelled to write something when I get home from the, well, from going out, and inevitably the next day, in class or at work, I think, holy shit, I probaly sound like a 12 year old kid who's just tried acid for the first time.

Thus, it has happened again. But yet, I am not so distraught about the entry below. I am surprised at the level of comprehension I have sometimes. Anyhow, I wish more people would write fucked up drunken rants (Not that the entry below is, but you should have seen what I deleted prior to posting). Like Matthew, Terry, and Paul for example. Let's all request a fucked up drunken rant from these fine gents.

This way I will not be the one, lone, statistic.

God speed.

OKay, well that's just embarrassing. Yes okay I did ask a certain RObin to a certain midi prom, buT i have unfortunately misplaced my invite made by a certain miss Emily. Alas. I think it's coming up, but I don't know when as of right now. The invite could be serving as my bookmark in Moliere's the Misanthrope, but who's to say. I'll figure it out, but EMily, if you feel like assisting, lemme know. When's tha shindig? Robin, if you want to go, cool because I am an amazing fine and fun dat-ay. But if not, that's cool too, but it'll be fun if we go as asshole dates, carrying on the theme. KNow what I mean? Sweet then . . .

um, I gotta get some sleep prior to physics a demain. See ya.

Paul . . . oh you . . . We's got's some scores to settle. Watch yo back my friend, s'all I's got to say. night all.

the Pink

Tonight

y'all should go regardless of age race or if you listen to Creed. Everyone has their ailments.

My eyes hurt like rotten teeth
I have the wit of a tombstone
my tolerance is that of a suburbanite
my arms are warheads and my bed beckons
while the notebook remains empty.

Now I'm hearing voices.

I'm coming don't you dare fret.