ska and bitches. |
2004-03-06 - 10:51 p.m.
let me get a drink and find a comfortable position in this uncomfortable chair.
i've been laughing all day. i've been having fun all day. but now, at the end of the night, i feel sad and empty, really. i'm not sure why. sometimes, when i least expect it, i remember how doomed i am. or at least, it seems i'm doomed.
i want to feel accepted. i want to feel a great part of things. i want people to point at me as i walk by. i want to stand out. i want to make people jealous. i want to be creative. i want jaws to drop. i want people to stop and hear what i have to say. i want to actually have something to say. i feel like those goddamn mcdonalds chicken nuggets made from spare parts. you know, before they changed them to all white meat. just a bunch of stuff squished together to form a nugget. that's me. you know how everybody has a gift? something they excel at? my gift is being ordinary. mediocre. my gift is whining about it.
we took the cow heart daniel gave me for valentine's day and we went to the playground. climbed up to one of the towers and i heaved it to the ground. nothing happened. no disgusting noise. nothing. so i picked it up and started slamming it onto a bench. the bag started to open and such a horrible smell emitted from that hole that i tried to pass it to ashley but he wouldn't take it. so daniel takes it and hurls it toward a crowd of the sort of teenagers that make you want to puke all over yourself. you know the ones. he hurls the cow heart and it splatters with such force that it leaves a trail of blood behind and a smell that would make you curl up and die. it was beautiful. we run to the car and there's something in my seat. it looks like a snacky cake! but upon further inspection it's a cell phone. it's none of our phones. we take it home with us. we ponder heaving it out the window. we consider smashing it with our car. but no. we call the people in the phone book. it provides us with lots of entertainment. it riles up the teenagers. they promise us "ass whoopin's." we take the phone back to the park after a while. sit it on the ground and leave. they all flock to it like birds to a dead animal carcass. i laugh.
we return to the abode of the d6 and we watch dark city until i drive my sorry ass home.
i love weekends like ska and bitches with cell phones.
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