This is me giving a big thumbs up to grunge. I mean downright dirty. Dirty clothes, hair, and teeth. (Think big woolen, teethy, sweater vests with faux-fur hood.) I mean haven't a clean pair of underwear in sight. Hidden, perhaps, but definitely not in range of my eyes. I mean, straight-up, no joke, not messing around - everything around me is pure raunchy.
In other news, I quite enjoy being back here. By here I mean Lace&Lilac the page specifically. This place is shiny like I remember. A home away from home of sorts, minus the roadkill of a saying. I love talking about nothing in hopes that one day I will print everything out, rearrange, staple and sign by a false name. I will stuff the printed manuscript of a blog into someones mailbox (anyone's, preferably in a Jewish neighborhood). I will let them deal with it. If it's never published in any form, there will be no dashed dreams for this girl. Nope.
I would never consider myself the kind of person to have a published blog. In fact, that seems like unnecessary stardom. I'd feel naked. I'd feel covered in peeping-tom eyes. Which brings me to another consideration- why the fuck do I have a blog?
I should sleep. That thing that people do when it gets dark in their room. (Er, one of the things.)
1 comments:
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Anyway, I disapprove of filth.
Also, I just burned myself hot-dog juice, because someone was going on about hot-dogs the other day and I decided I needed a hot-dog, got drunk, then bit into the hot-dog I'd just cooked and managed to spray my hand with hot-dog juice. My mouth, somehow, survived unscathed.
It is my hope that you may soon discover, or take measures to create, clean things into which you might put your person.
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