Red Rot ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- everything ive thought about and cant explain and cant write down. i cant wait to live in ny w/ q i cant believe david blaine thought he could hold his breath for 9 minutes. what a sucker i wouldnt have picked any of america's top models. although the really tall one discovered in the mall had a hot body. it is somehow reassuring to me that girls i dont find attractive look great in their done-up model photographs. i couldnt care less if elvis-singing elliot from richmond gets kicked off. i wont vote and i wont watch. tv makes me ill though i'll read the same magazine 500x i liked meeting them. they made me want to do this, feel ok about this, just grown-up little kids, damn attractively coupled, and we stood together, watching his cigarette tricks in union square. a tongue flip! a smoke blow! a roaring train! w/your old man electric body. i miss company, kid company, crowds, contemporaries. but even though i miss it, i know deep down, that if i was there, i would be thinking half-content thoughts of the same old shit my feet are tired and my eyes are tired and i cant hit my magic number because im too tired to work it out. it should be easier in the summer and harder living at home and really i miss the miles i would run up the side of the mountain. nowhere here feels safe, or not a highway. nowhere to go and not enough daylight. if the majority of my summer i have to myself, i might as well make the most of it. even with nothing to motivate me i can make myself feel bad my baby sister wore my jeans today and they almost fit her, which was weird to me and i wore her shirt and looked good flat chested and tight like a leotard and droopy on my side profile but just braless droopy not oldwomany droopy and i hate bras and i really dont care i lost all of my friends to the opposite sex. or to sex. the boys wont call me because i have a boy and the girls wont call me because they have boys and everyone else wont call me because of ? i bet it has to do with boy/girl stuff. everyone is trite like a middle school party. everytime i look at my stomach i think about how easily i bruise and what a scandal you are i live here for the weekends! i am thinking about being modest forever, one short long drive to the prettiest thing on the beltway! 9:55 p.m. - 2006-05-11 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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