the BRUTAL, UGLY truth of my FABULOUS, BEAUTIFUL life.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
12:34 a.m. + 2003-04-19 = goodfriday/saturday03
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
the film was lovely. there was plot. there was eartha kitt. there was neo-country and oldskool country soundtracking. there was climax with music and emotion swelling. i felt a tear well up in my left eye. but soon after realised this was due to rubbing said-eye with finger that had butterysalt residue upon it. eye reacted out of self-defense. this has been good friday. brought to you by the carpenter formerly known as christ. side note: i'm ultra-obsessed with death cab for cutie's cover of the smith's "this charming man." the ex (marked&memorexed by my third tatoo/tattoo (however one chooses to spell it--working under the premise that we do, indeed, get to "choose" grammar(personally, i promote "tattoo" vs. other))) (over-parenthetical? but of course!) where was I? oh yes, the smiths and the ex marked by my third tattoo... well, he would be proud. i think. i don't know. we don't talk. i don't even think we like each other. i haven't given thought to it as i'm bothered by less-trivial concerns, i.e. vaccuuming and watching paint dry. i shall spend the rest of the night songwriting. then it's off to morris, mn to celebrate the easter. with an uncle in the pulpit and pen&paper for tic-tac-toe... i will survive. i bet mum will hide the easter baskets... goddamnit. how i hate looking for presents. the etymology of the word "present" would suggest its inherent quality of, well, being present. thus, not hidden. such a tangled-web tradition weaves... or in this case forces mother to mindset of yesteryear where there was a thrill for the kids to hunt for easterbaskets. (as we stand now, we are 22,20,and16. we enjoy having things brought to us.) ooooo... i wonder if i get those yellow chick things.... (so, maybe there is a hint of thrillingness/thrillity.) question: does everything i write sound like postmodern discourse? as mormor would say, "isha. isha-huey." meaning: unknown. origin: unknown. (although i have my money on sweden.)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
comments?? --->[thisaway]--->[[looks to me as though there are...]]---> 0 repercussions thus far
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[prologue] *** [epilogue] ***[plottwist!]
[[erstwhile]] ***** [[forthwith]]
