the BRUTAL, UGLY truth of my FABULOUS, BEAUTIFUL life.



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18:50 + 26.09.2007 = repentance & the cusp of re-reclusion.

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i'm proofing yeast with buttermilk, oil, sugar and water in repentance for last night.

i spent four of my last ten dollars until the bartender pays me for cleaning his place [which hopefully he does tomorrow... before he moves... to new york] on yeast and buttermilk.

i'm making sweet rolls.

brioche dough in the name of repentance!

seriously, what the fuck was last night?!
i finally went to bed at 6am. ...but not before stalking and messaging my crush on that damned myspace.

DO NOT LET ME NEAR THE INTERNET WHEN I'M THREE[HUNDRED]-SHEETS-TO-THE-WIND.

[[that's an order, people.]]


i woke up at quarter to 4pm. [[which is just plain SICK & WRONG!]]

i walked to the store.
the temperature + the angle of light + the forebodingly angry colour of the clouds + my internal clock thinking it's 2pm instead of 6pm =
i feel like i'm standing at the end of the world. [also known as: rural iceland.]

tomorrow, my two best gays in the city [the bartender and his best friend] leave [probably for good]. i wager i'll be going back into hiding.

there's something mucking about the air... it's the emotional counterpart to that feeling one experiences at the apex of a rollercoaster--right before the plummet.

what do we call it? joyous despair? does that work?

i'm too lazy to find the proper english word... besides, it's time to add the flour, salt & baking soda to the proofing yeast et al.

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comments?? --->[thisaway]--->[[looks to me as though there are...]]---> 1 repercussions thus far

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[prologue] *** [epilogue] ***[plottwist!]

[[erstwhile]] ***** [[forthwith]]

reference desk

me
&
you
or
us
&
them
else...
immortality!



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