novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- it hurts to talk. i woke up from scary dreams in san francisco. i got lost after eating bagels with my housemates at disneyland, went to go visit some guy and some other guy came to see us and murdered destiny's child (who just happened to be with us). the only surviving child was the tall one with short hair who juts her chin a lot in videos. then i went for a walk, through alleys and bars and 24 hour diners to see how to get home. many people offered me crack. somebody stole my bike. everyone stared at me. but i'm not in san francisco, i have no housemates, and destiny's child is not dead. i'm in ventura recovering from the long-awaited tonsilectomy. i'm blowing my nose and long streams of snotty blood are coming out. my dog, bruno, keeps coming into my room, sniffing around, and waltzing out with either a shoe or a pez dispenser in his mouth, and there is nothing i can do to stop him. oh gonzo, why hast bruno forsaken thee? oh shoe, i never wore you anyway. and now to heal. 4:39 am - 2.16.01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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