2002-05-20 - 12:16 a.m.
So I'm back again, marvelling in the use of Diaryland as procrastination.
So, yes, my updat-ion motives are mainly selfish now (wait a second ... when are they not?!) and you should be warned that I came here with no specific thing to say (your cue to click your way the hell out of here as FAST AS YOU CAN!)
Woo, the caps also indicate a cool Fiona Apple song I used to love. Go double entendre me.
But anyway, yes. I can sum up by comparing this diary to the bus in Speed that had a bomb strapped to it that threatened to go off if the bus went above 50 mph.
Except that the thing that is likely to kill you in this instance is my frustratingly slow pace and the fact that I'm not actually trying to go anywhere, just driving around in circles aimlessly.
And possibly the fact that when you push the button to indicate you want to get off I merely respond with a blank expression and maybe a confused "What was that ding noise?"
The strangest thing about this entry, except maybe for it not being an entry at all, is the idea that even though I'm saying less than nothing I demand to be heard! Read-me-read-me-read-me ... read me?
I may not like what you don't say but I will defend to the death your right to not say it.
This is what avoiding a psych paper does to me, drives me into some form of psychosis.
All I really want is for the assignment to go away by itself, or for Vyv to come back online so we can procrastinate together (or I can while she does work), and while I'm at it, also a pinstripe suit from Mr Stinky's.
Bizarre as it sounds, I do not jest. I jest not, no jester art I even!
Just so we're clear, crystal clear, so crystal clear that we wouldn't notice the thick glass walls seperating us and instead painfully bump into them repeatedly ... dang that crystal clearness.
And I still have another 368 words to do tonight ... or this morning, now.
Watch out for more non-sanity.
So, yes, my updat-ion motives are mainly selfish now (wait a second ... when are they not?!) and you should be warned that I came here with no specific thing to say (your cue to click your way the hell out of here as FAST AS YOU CAN!)
Woo, the caps also indicate a cool Fiona Apple song I used to love. Go double entendre me.
But anyway, yes. I can sum up by comparing this diary to the bus in Speed that had a bomb strapped to it that threatened to go off if the bus went above 50 mph.
Except that the thing that is likely to kill you in this instance is my frustratingly slow pace and the fact that I'm not actually trying to go anywhere, just driving around in circles aimlessly.
And possibly the fact that when you push the button to indicate you want to get off I merely respond with a blank expression and maybe a confused "What was that ding noise?"
The strangest thing about this entry, except maybe for it not being an entry at all, is the idea that even though I'm saying less than nothing I demand to be heard! Read-me-read-me-read-me ... read me?
I may not like what you don't say but I will defend to the death your right to not say it.
This is what avoiding a psych paper does to me, drives me into some form of psychosis.
All I really want is for the assignment to go away by itself, or for Vyv to come back online so we can procrastinate together (or I can while she does work), and while I'm at it, also a pinstripe suit from Mr Stinky's.
Bizarre as it sounds, I do not jest. I jest not, no jester art I even!
Just so we're clear, crystal clear, so crystal clear that we wouldn't notice the thick glass walls seperating us and instead painfully bump into them repeatedly ... dang that crystal clearness.
And I still have another 368 words to do tonight ... or this morning, now.
Watch out for more non-sanity.
