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cosmic surgery: - La Petite Mort [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Spinning 45 Ballerina

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cosmic surgery: [Oct. 18th, 2007|02:50 pm]
Spinning 45 Ballerina
[Current Mood |shifting]

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don't read the small print
it's angry

my camera is to old, and it dosen't want to work anymore. if I could turn back time I maybe could use it, but no one will help me make this happen. this web cam pict is from before I went to a costume party last weekend, and it's not good enough. the party was ok, but the real world kept colliding with it's oldie worldie theme. we're all useless. seriously. no backbones, and my vagina hurts, and my brest are shrinking, I think I'm turning in to a man. finally. this is a real wine journal entry, but this is wher my vine journey has ended. I don't drink that much anymore, because that world sickens me, and I know it's just because I've been drinking to much for to long. prideful, useless, stupid, I am all thees things, but I'm never a victim. some are proud of being jealous but still proud of letting them self be hurt and abused, and they call this love. I am incapable of trust or strong emotions. I can't compete in a place filled of lies and conspiracies, for a long time now I've convinced myself that i was just being paranoid. my worst fares are being realized one after one. the male ego is the cancer that grows inside society. sometimes that just results in bitterness. someone told me something enlightened yesterday though, she said "I only like you if you like me". when I look over my shoulder I se my bitterness, but maybe it's just love. all this is just a stream of consciousness, for real. not as incoherent as janok (the recluse singer in a documantary I watched today.), and not as structured as virginia woolf. just for real.

my time machine will take me places I've been before. so i can understand them, and it will take me shopping... hollywood dreams, the Weimar, the world cafe to shake billys hand. bowie shows, love, mary shelly and her boyfriend pursey. ada lovelace with a blanket or penecilin. undo my mistakes, steal my own food. finally, a happy suicide, that i can escape from.

I wrote this on October 14th and it's all vile, and I feel happier now, I got to tell the world off, and thats worth it. everything thats in small type is worthless and sad, but still a part of life. and btw. that asshole, shit cock pig dog, stupid with eyes that sitt to close together, I kicked him and I wish he didn't frighten me cause than I would have done it again, and been proud not just not pretending it wasn't me. oktoberfest makes it all alrigh.

happy birthday geir, luv u:)

...no one is good at life.
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