January 29th, 2002


(no subject)

to any one i fell asleep on last night. i'm sorry. i just passed out. completely. i don't even remember laying down.

and the dorm is way to quiet for 8:15 am.

and it's alan's 18th birthday. not that he HAS a livejournal, though i think he should.

i'm cold....
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just when i think i have everything figured out.....

i'm all confused. i think i have everything figured out, and then someone adds another fish to the pond, or the fish is suddenly golden when you could have sworn it was blue, and it's like WOAH, we need to re-arrange things here

on an up note.

"i like smut" -- casey

That Madame Psychosis had confessed to Molly Notkin that the widow struck her as very possibly Death incarnate -- her constant smile the rictal smile of some kind of thanatoptic figure -- and that it had struck Madame Psychosis as bizzare that it was she, Madame Psychosis, whom the Auteur kept casting as variouse feminine instantiations of Death when he had the real thing right under his nose, and eminently photogenic to boot, the widow-to-be, apparently a real restaurant-silencer-type beauty even in her late forties.
infinite jest, page 790
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    tool - parabol