slip kid
09.20.04 @ 10:36 p.m.
EDIT: Oooh, dogg. (This is me picking up Dumbrella mannerisms; this time we showcase Ig.) Someone found this by googling their name. A good reason to not use last names, not that I said much of anything at all. Also, it pains me to have had to change the wording of an entry to stop getting search engine hits of p r e t e e n fucking, which is extra stupid because in the entry, the words were nowhere near one another. Stupid morons and their stupid fucking search engine hits. Lately from some new search engine but ohhhhh so many of them.
Back to your regularly scheduled entry, where I talk a lot but say nothing:
Although I do not think that it's a staggeringly great tape I made, I am pleased with it. I listening to one of the copies I'm sending out (rather than the master tape, which I know is good) in the car on the way up from Eugene. I came up because I was going a bit loopy down there from being alone for so very long without even the dog for company. The end result was me breaking down and crying on the phone with my mom, and her encouraging me to come back early since I was upset.
Oh fuck. I just remembered my phone is out in the car and it's still on. I guess I'll have to go out at the next commercial, since I'm watching (surprise) the CSI Miami premiere.
Anyway, I'm restraining myself from posting the track list since I'm going to send a copy to Candace as well as Rachel and Jessica. I really enjoy making things for people. I should do it more often for my day to day friends rather than just for my correspondent friends.
BRRR. It's fucking cold outside. It makes me feel a little bad for having Bobby Dylan inside with me. Why, you might ask. Wouldn't he be warmer in the house than on the cold cement of the barn? Well. Yes. But his brother, poor little Roger-Dodger Daltrey, is probably lonely and cold without his brother to huddle up with.
Double fuck. We broke Dumbrella, and now it's all fascist. This is going to suck. I hope we can do something to put things back the way it was, even if that means some generous donations to RStevens. This is sadness! Or maybe the gods telling me to get a life, I don't know. But either way, I'm pretty sad.
Okay, so here I've said nothing. I'm going to go shopping tomorrow, maybe just to Fred Meyer for CD boxes so I can finish out my packages to send and buy essential things like socks and pantyhose to wear with my dress. I'm happier in Portland and my dad looked at my dent and decided that it's hardly anything (this morning I went out to the car and thought "Oh, that's much smaller than I remember") but seemed shocked that I didn't see any need to get it fixed. Why spend the money when it doesn't affect the function of the car? I regret not bringing either my Regency books or my Meher Baba book with me. Eh. I have a Star Wars book (I'm rereading the X-Wing books) and my Narnia books are here in PDX. I have some work to do prettying up the mix tapes and writing letters to the recipients and I want to work on my Sea and Sand synopsis some more.
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
