And the boy, that ordinary boy, was it all in my head?
2002-08-15 - 4:09 p.m.

Sitting here sipping overly sweet fizzy beverage in manner of alcoholic glugging away at their sweet sweet liqour.

Sugar does so much more for me... where alcohol stumbles around amusingly sugar dazzles with a spectacular tap dance all for my benefit.

Yeah. Well. I'm not sure what to make with this paragraph. I could tell you some further realizations have had about Smart Guy, like how utterly delusional I am and how I'm only really probably using him as the lead in my daydreams, because I always need a lead, but...

But I don't feel like going here today, because you've all been here too many times and let's face it you'd see more action if I was commentating on the growth rate of grass.

So even though underneath the few other thoughts I have it's all I'm thinking about (dissect, re-evaluate, dream) today I will spare you because hey, you can't have an audience if you've killed them by boring them to death...

I try to make my mind move elsewhere but all I come up with are daily anecdotes that are so short and utterly pointless that you couldn't even sincerely call them anecdotes.

I love my boots because they make that perfect clomp-clomp that sufficiently denotes and announces my presence.

May or may not be impregnated by some force of evil. Stomach seems to have arrived at early pregnant size rather quickly but perhaps have just not noticed it's development because of winter clothing.

See?

I want to shed the skin I'm in for you but it's all contaminated.


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