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Oct. 8th, 2007 | 05:51 pm
location: in da dorm
mood: ecstaticecstatic
music: Drop it like it's hot

93 on my speech exam. yessssss.

woo. I have my car back. *hugs Billy* Mmm.

Now I gotta finish my four page research paper. I have only two pages. Just two more and I'm free tonite. (:

I can't wait to play FFXII tonite. I'm so close to finishing the game. Yesss.

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Where's your boy?

Oct. 3rd, 2007 | 04:55 pm
location: dorm room
mood: drunkdrunk
music: tv

lol chris cocker.

Flip da hair, bb!

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Here's my anthem

Aug. 14th, 2007 | 02:20 pm
mood: bitchybitchy

I got it from you. Your headlines and head lies. Your hate mail and red tag fire sales. Your justice and your jails. Your corruption that never fails to spit in the options, no choice. The one who has to pay the price for your greed and pride and all the fear you hold inside. Your stereotyping paranoid claustrophobia. Your no-minded logic defying homophobia. It’s been going on so long. So here’s your authentic American blues song. I got it all from you. I pushed back. Back back back my back against the wall. Paranoid I’m not. Understanding I am too much to the point to bruised and charred and too life away and put horror in its place. Here’s your ugly face. Face it. Here’s your darkness slice. Here here here it is. Here’s your human race. Your rape siren lit gynecological boy meets mutilates meats meats meats girl—girl destroys herself in the wreckage of her mother’s cowardice—boy destroys himself acting out imagined male imperative that father or lack of instilled.

You can get raped and killed here. Addicted and imprisoned. Saturated and intimidated. Isolated and condemned. You might not get what you deserve but you’ll get something that’ll hurt. That’s a brain-splattered guarantee. So don’t come crying. Don’t come dying. I don’t have a doorstep left for you to bleed your case upon. You broke it into pieces and threw it at my head. You win. Don’t come to me looking for answers. Your street is my street. I hear the same gunshots and share the same held breath. I’ll just tell you to duck and vote NO YOU BASTARDS. I’m warning you this last time; that which stands still gets victimized or worse.

It’s the way of the residents and the dead presidents. The future’s on hold. If you have a problem with it, write an angry letter but address it to yourself because I got it all from you. Hit the streets begging, for tolerance, not money. Instead of rest and relaxation, here’s some mutation and mutilation. Here I come. Running at you with the Anti-Life.

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