fivehalf

Sun, 15 Aug 2004 16:46:23 GMT

God, today I have went from feeling bad to worse, and it's only 1.

Sat, 08 May 2004 22:24:00 GMT

And Belle's lyrics just seem so much more meaningful when you're like this. I really don't know where I'm going. I have the friends, the drugs, the reviews, the school. Three is enough, but 4? It's hard. So it goes: school, reviews, friends, drugs. Just homemade wine is what made me like this this time. THe cucumbers make quirky pop songs, I'm SO drunk. I can't even tell what I'm writing.

things are just so confusing and once you get past yourself, you'll be much better. You'll eat, drink, and be happy. And be able to live with yourself instead of blurry everything. Too many rugburns. It hurts, so bad, but there's so much I haven't seen. And so much I should be ignoring, because both of them are so insignificant, and they'll turn to shit soon,

Tue, 04 May 2004 01:44:22 GMT

If a simple phrase like "head in the clouds" or "starry eyes" were tangible, it would of been the worst day every to feel it. I hadn't even felt anything for weeks now, but things are seeming so above ground. Bringing some sort of waste out to a great metallic monster, it seems so effortless that I use the reciprocal. A cup of whiskey, a cup of tequila. The second was tainted. It may have been the bottle. It's a lift, but not much, for a cold seems to have come over me, even at a bouncing moment like this, it's tangible, at the back of my throat.

"My Slumbering Heart" is what it's written to. It'd surely turn out differently if I did this to some different to beat, some different melody. But I still maintain a certain state of mind, which will certainly turn around and run inverse to this one, certainly creating the destruction of this writing. It's tropical, or at least that's what I saw the above words as. But the more I look at it, the more I feel like Burroughs.

Certainly making less sense. Less comparable, he was an individual. Human, even. It's not anything I've seen in a while. It's weird, that I go about writing like such a human I once hated. Not Burroughs, per say. It doesn't matter, it's more the fact that I've made such a 360. It's more of a sign. Or maybe fucking not. This is the 6th attempt at doing something. I write for them, yes. But what else? Everything's fell though, and I assure you, this will too.

It's still more complex. And still much louder.