the BRUTAL, UGLY truth of my FABULOUS, BEAUTIFUL life.
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4:17 p.m. + 2003-05-30 = grandmother's grave
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procrastination mode full on. bjorn lies on his bed on his side of the room napping. he has asked me to help him move some stuff. i am a nice guy and say yes. he is a nice guy as says "oh, but you probably don't have much time." i am thinking, 'oh yeah, probably don't... YEAH! i hate moving stuff' but whatever.
this room isn't getting all the cleaner. i've come across library books that i swore on my grandmother's grave i didn't still have checked out. grandmother would be rolling in her grave, if she knew, if she had a grave, if she were in fact dead and not cleaning mum's kitchen 16 blocks NNE from where i sit now.
ooo. went frolicking on friendster again. came across the newly appointed boyfriend of my age ol' desire across time and space (aka "the west" in previous journal entries). i have only this to conclude: my age ol' desire across time and space has magnificent, if not infallibly impeccable taste.
anyway, the wind suddenly died down outside... i shall return my library books.
hmm... i didn't know bjorn snored.
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comments?? --->[thisaway]--->[[looks to me as though there are...]]---> 0 repercussions thus far
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[prologue] *** [epilogue] ***[plottwist!]
[[erstwhile]] ***** [[forthwith]]
