Dec 02, 2001
Drinking cheap wine from a cracked glass.
I'm to lazy to piss. Ever get like that. Laying in bed, in pain,
brain flooded with toxins
to much work to get up. Just lay there squirming, falling back to
sleep, but never really being able to sleep because your body knows it has to
excrete fluids that are of no more use. It effects my dreams. Ever have sex
with a full bladder?
Try it.
Sometimes I feel like I am a fluid that is of little to no use
any more. All of its nutrients have been leeched and bled dry. Perhaps it can
be sold for filler in apple juice or something.
Life is going in circles, or maybe its death, really what's the
difference. The living room. What is that? Why don't we have dying rooms. I
think school is a dying room. I think anything that is not nature is a dying
room. Life is the great big dying room and we create artificial living rooms to
watch TV in and slowly rot and die. TV is the death of the soul, its the last
spike in the coffin. Its the worst death possible because its slow and hidden.
It will eat away and infect you with other peoples ideas, and not very good
ideas at that. I refuse to have cable. I can not hang out with TV people, they
have nothing to say, they are on auto pilot, they are voyeurs, its a disease.
I have to piss while I'm typing this, it makes me type faster,
stream of thought,(pardon the pun) get it over so I can go. I feel like I live
my life by those standards. Get my jail sentence over. I want to fast forward
15 years, get over this sentence, get there where it might be noticed, where it
might count. However I want to be this young when I am there. Will anything I
paint or write be respected, what does it really matter, it fills a gap.
Dec 05, 2001 7:36 a.m.
Life is great. I feel like everything is amazing. I'm going to
try and have a good day at school. Maybe its all just in my mind.
9:34 class room
F**k these dinks. This school is retarded. I'm going to the
liquor store.
Dec 06,2001
Hmmmm What ever to do today, not very many more days till
Christmas break. There is this pervert that lives across the street from me. He
has a moustache and smokes a pipe. He thinks he is a police officer, its kind
of sad in a way. I feel bad for people I despise. Must be a bit of Jesus in me.
Last week while I had some friends over he walked into my apartment with out
knocking on the door. In his hand was a bag full of broken glass from a vodka
bottle. He accused everyone in the room for it being broken, and also said he's
going to take it downtown to the lab "Gunna get the boys in forensics to
check it out...yup." I asked him to make sure he comes back with a full
report so we can get to the bottom of this mystery once and for all.... I
haven't heard back yet, I will keep you posted though.
My place reeks of burnt food. I fell asleep a couple nights ago
with french fries in the oven at 450c. They must have baked, or burnt rather
for about 6 hours. I'm surprised the smoke alarm didn't go off. I have all the
windows open, its -25c outside and about -5c inside. My cat is hiding under the
covers. There is a large snow bank on my back porch. Piles of garbage and
recycling have formed frozen gnarled ice sculptors back there. Cases of Pilsner
frozen in time. Evidence of my debauchery. I don't go out there much in winter.
I'm hastily finishing up some assignments for school. I figured
out as long as I make some marginal effort they will pass me. As longs as I
pass each class that's all that matters. I don't want to be here for a second
longer than I need to be. Some of these professors are still teaching the same
assignments from 10 years ago or even longer back. Every once and a while the
teachers are obliged to have an art show. HAHAHA. Its as bad as a first year
art show. Its so embarrassing, some professors put in the same thing they did
from years past. Its just an excuse to get drunk, but then again isn't
everything. How can they expect me to care if they don't care. I would be
better off in kindergarten.
Its getting a bit sketchy biking this time of year. Sometimes warm
winds pass through from the mountains and thaws the snow, then it freezes
overnight and gets deadly slippery. I have had a couple wipe outs this week. I
still wont wear a helmet, they look so retarded and I cant keep warm with one
on. Jesus its cold in here. The stink of burnt french fries will not dissipate.
I think it somehow wormed its way under the paint or something. My fingers are
freezing trying to write this. I like the library in this city, its a good
place to hide from the inbreds. Its one of the few places you can almost
guarantee the rednecks will not be hanging out at ha. Its not so bad though
there's some decent folk in this town.
One of the few professors I get along with always talks about
B.C. and Vancouver island in particular. I went there once when I was a kid but
can hardly recall it. I think I remember some underwater thing in Victoria. He
says he wants to build a house off the grid on one of the small islands. Sounds
pretty cool to me. I need rain and moisture, this place is way to dry. Its the
same weather every day. Summer it rains maybe 5 times. The rest of the time its
insanely hot.
I haven't done dishes in over a week. I have been drinking out of
a large metal popcorn bowl again. I have 2 pair of pants. One are US military
chucks, and the other are the same put just green, not camo. I find they kind
of are self cleaning. I'm outside lots and I think that cleans them. I don't
like to do laundry so much because its located beside the crazy Russians back
door. Sometimes I clean my clothes in the bathtub. I haven't seen it(Russian)
lately, or the daughter. I did however find a huge stash of old movie popcorn
in the abandoned garage out back. It was about 8 feet tall. That's a lot of
popcorn. They must give it to it at the end of the night, I don't know. Its
pretty odd. It must be used to having nothing where it came from. I feel bad
calling it an it but if you had to deal with its insanity, I'm sure you
wouldn't blame me after a week.
Well I have some crap I have to do for school. Until next time.
H.S.
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