february 20, 2002
/rabbits evolve around a virus
them ft. slug - program to hunt 2007
eating cheap ass hole in the wall chinese food right before getting onto speedy circular blinking rusty carnival rides 1) makes the machinery squeak more and 2) makes middle aged lesbians puke on the girl with luscious lips sitting next to her.
i mean, the ride was going unusually fast. michael leaned over towards the end of the wild ride and told me this, in surprise, i agree. those photos one can easily take with a slow shutter speed, where half a second's worth of the elements of the earth are frozen and stretched out in time within a 4 inch by 6 inch frame, thats what everything was like. for a moment i pictured a news report woman dressed in an ugly purple dress and too much fucking make up telling the community about a horrible tragic accident at a squeaky carnival in which a ride malfunctioned and rusty pieces of the spinning cars went flying in all directions, peppering the dusty field with fried body parts and trembly wiring. but no! phew, we're still alive!
but those workers with bad teeth and messy greased hair and camoflage baseball caps hosed down the puke ride car and continued chewing on their worn toothpicks as if this sort of accident happens regularly.
meanwhile, the short stocky security guard in brown seemed way into my fine ass 20 year old asian american textbook-sculpted physique (ha), but the lady who puked was all over the married ticketbooth lady. she was wearing a single strand of mardi gras beads and hesitantly told the puke lady that she was faithful to her husband. the ticket lady called puke lady "baby" five times in 3 minutes. still, ticket lady is faithful to husband. puke lady, the voice of temptation.
i myself started to feel a lil queasy on "the crazy dance" which seemed to last forfucking ever. i closed my eyes even though michael told me you get sicker faster when you close your eyes 'cause you are not completely aware of your positional coordinates with respect to the ground and the world. or something like that. is this true? my eyes peep open, think, slow shutter speed. eyes closed. speakers way too trebly. he held me tight.
the next day, amanda treats me to a wildberry tea slushie (mm mmmm mmmm) and tells me how when she was little she was at this carnival waiting in line for the spooky fun house, when suddenly smoke started seeping out of the fun house. turns out somehow the fun house caught on fire, several people trapped inside. i cant help but imagine banging and faint screaming and third degree burns. scars of all types, no doubt.
and man, she was next in line to enter the spooky fun house. yet today, she is quite alive, telling me about the funny homeless guy who hangs around on the corner near the ice cream shop and throws himself in front of slow moving cars to get free shit (just like in curly sue ha!).
she sipped her tea quite carefully.
> 20 reactions
february 18, 2002
arsonists - we be about
she really didnt mean what she said a few months ago, comparing me to death (i sat curled up under my old desk, holding my red bear pillow and crying in a rocking motion). big sigh here.
you jerk tears out of my eyes like no other, because everything you say and do makes so much sense. years and years and years of brilliance, with a temper. but you can tell me that you scraped out my eyes with a corkscrew and sawed off my legs with a rusty guitar string, and you did it because you love me. and i would believe it.
he revealed to me this secret, a secret i would've never expected to come out of his mouth. and shhh! here's the secret: __________________
it seems kinda like "dont ask dont tell" but i have to figure out how to accept her view that my love for another man is not humanly possible. humanly possible. to this day i have not really been ostracized for the fact that i love burly bearded lumberjack lookin motherfuckers, ha, but out of all people, it's you. she knows. she knows.
but she doesnt goddammit.
> 1 reaction
february 5, 2002
/lets gossip about death!
hi-standard - shy boy
on his 32nd birthday, i met him and the rest of the old fairies at hula hut, with a stuffed snow white tiger, a picture book (the little island), a scratched up julie andrews lp from the mid 60s, and a hot pink sticker that declared him an "exotic princess." the setting wasnt quite exotic though, with the water drained (a result of a freeze warning). we were placed at a table in the back area, which contains not cement or wooden walls, but thick plastic wrapping and a gas heater over our heads to keep us warm. toes = ice cubes, neckhairs = molten lava.
they tried to figure out the year that julie andrews record was released for like 15 minutes gay. i sat there and studied the way the 2 and a half year old girl studied her pasta. kids love hide and seek! one things thats pretty hard to hide these days is my big fucking ass. up to 175 lbs! ouch. yet i still shovelled my bacon cheeseburger down, while listening to the straight guy tell me all about fishing. i dont know anything about fishing. actually fish scare me. yet i listened with patience.
then the next day at work, a 77 year old woman apprently choked on popcorn and candy, which lead to her eventually death later that day. co-workers engage in "that theater's gonna be haunted!" gossip. wow we dont even need a silver screen to glamourize death anymore! a granddaughter draped in confused tears, a uniformly dressed cast and crew drowning in paranoid "what if" gossip.
the customers kept asking us "whats with all those ambulances outside" and our managers regularly whispered reminders to us not to talk it to the customers. after all, wouldnt wanna damage sales by revealing the truth.
we told em anyway.
> 9 reactions
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