29 July, 2004
Until the new diary starts up shall we have death throws here? YEAH YEAH! They all yell. YEAH YEAH DEATH THROWS!!!
Throws? Is it really spelt that way.
So my left shoulder thinks that feeling like concrete is the way to go. Oh well don't mind him.
Interesting thing to point out. As a whole I'm female. As parts I'm male. Don't get scared. What I mean is that when I say, "Oh look at my foot he's turning green" my foot happens to be referred to as a 'he.' Or an he as we like to say it in my house.
I would like an drink of water please.
Pass me an tee towel I need to drive an plate before I butter the toast.
(Plurals generally escape.)
This morning the entire CBD was covered in milky frosty fog.
Looked pretty.
It took me an hour to have a sentence come out that I couldn't see floating in the air for moments before it reached its recipient...
I finally have a tarp to put a painting on albeit a table to put the tarp on to put the painting on to paint on.
Everything looks so flat.. one dimensional...
I need to go to The Depth Star... and blow it up and have all the Dept shower out like asteroids (would it be meterorites? What's the offcial word?) and hit my backyard and create a VERY DEEP crater that would spew forth depth deepness deep thought deep sleep and all other deeply penetrating things that are good...
you just saw little munchkins crawling out too didn't you?