december 11, 2001


/all you gotta do is disappear for a little while
elvis costello - i want you

my phaser shot over 400 lasers at 4 familiars, including the birthday girl (25 i thought she was 20) and 2 little kids with a friendly dad. i wasnt supposed to run but damn did i jog in my black hoodie, hood over head to get my sniper on. i shot michael twice and he only got me once. haha silly fairies think they can mess with a fucking sniper.

the door was open so i went in to see other guy #01 and the other guy #02 in other guy #01's room, it is relatively clean and organized with some modern looking art on the walls. he smiles and shows me a burned harry potter cd, one of the paintings spells out "paranoid" using binary code and 3 or 4 disguised letters. i suggested turning out the overhead light to make the glowing female head glow brighter, then the light comes on, i look over and other guy #01 and #02 are holding, kissing. awww.

meanwhile, michael is conquering super mario bros level 1, i take over the controller and warp to level 3 'cause i like to sing along with the music.

i guess i just wasnt in the mood to sing "birdhouse in your soul" at the karaoke bar after all. i put the hood over my head again and stepped outside, he followed me, went back in to say happy birthday goodbyes, came back out. it was raining, we could see our breath. i told him i needed to be alone. silence. he drove me to my apartment, stopped the car. his heater doesnt work. silence. all of a sudden, corny metaphors start tugging themselves out of my ass, slowly and steadily. y'know, like "when you're working on a painting, once in a while you need to step back to see what you're doing." i guess i said those things 'cause i feel like i havent stepped back in a while. i disappeared for a few hours one day, slap slap slap later. i ask whats wrong with disappearing for a while. i was trying to tell him that i confuse selfishness with loneliness sometimes. he just held me. silence. i sobbed. now who's the fairy.

the next day, a full 24 hours of him and me. i was in charge of some decoration, for example randomly placing all his disney ornaments all over the artificial evergreen tree. man, even the fake ones shed. he uses blue tinsel, and has like 3 plastic santas, two of which move around in automated patterns. one of the santas shakes his hips and plays a very iron "holly jolly christmas."

5 or 6 hours later, everything is plugged in, now this shit is glowing. i tell him it looks like a nuclear blast of energy and light, there must be hundreds and hundreds of em, thoroughly wrapped around plants and outdoor furniture. him in his blue sweatpants. me in my blue plaid sleeping pants. him with a coffee in his hands. me with him in my arms. taking a step back, looking to see what we've accomplished. he tells me "i like this." i smile and kiss his forehead. blinking lights. silence.


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december 2, 2001


/look out for black ice
army of the pharaohs - the five perfect exertions

newfound employment, in the small black theater box probably. stinky told me that she was working there a few times and some drunk guy grabbed her arm for like ten minutes. i told michael that i cant talk to hot men through the thick glass window without using the robotic instrument. he tells me, thats good, 'cause they cant get in the black box to touch me. i always wondered if those windows can shield employees from bullets or explosives.

ahhhh gabe was on the freaking real world!

feeling blunt as a thousand year old razor blade these days. sam told me life is too short to dread going home. this shit is getting quite ridiculous. it seems like every time i turn around another sloppy, jagged hole has been carved through the wall, well of course, dont leave a note.

the two angelic creatures of rocky road and black-as-the-night look up at me, encircle my chilled feet, open their mouths and create high pitched, needy noises more than ever these days. meanwhile, the smell of smoked feces permeates the caves outside my room, clinging to the rough carpet as if attached by a permanent adhesive.

"actions speak louder than words" has new meaning, thank you for teaching me the basics. and delivering anti-beauty in small inky doses. fuck "i'll never change for anyone" gimme a jesusfuckng break. open your eyes. read and examine those lyrics you yelp as your fist is raised in the air as if trapped in a block of black ice. ice wont melt if you dont allow it to warm up. those songs you chant, as if they are anthems, were written about creatures like you. and for fucksake, dont use my goddamn toothpaste and dental floss.


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