“your website is kinda stupid, no offense. pretty boring too. i tried to read it and couldn’t handle it, maybe if you wrote something worthwhile…hey it’s constructive criticism, i like to read something that keeps my attention not just endless ramblings about how bitter you are…” < insert middle finger here >

in my father’s house there are many mansions

it’s a message in blood

man i am having major bouts of insomnia. i’ve fucked up my sleeping pattern by staying up ’til 5 or 6am and sleeping til 5pm. probilly my medication is to blame. the anti-depressants are kicking in so i lay in bed with racing thoughts and then i tell myself to stop thinking and then that gay thing happens where you’re thinking of not thinking and then u go to yourself unnngh i’m thinking of NOT thinking whatinthefuck is wrong with me? so then i think why don’t i just pretend i’m dead and shut off my brain. then i thought, fuck man, what would it be like to be dead, do your thoughts just stop or something? do you lie there and your brain just goes. mmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep like a straight line and u just like, lie around some more and stuff? kuz that would certainly suck. well maybe. to not exist anymore.

so now it’s like 5 in the morning and i’m still thinking of stupid scenarios of death and the like and i thought fuck this! so i went downstairs and took one of my brother’s nytol coma pills and took it with milk instead of with water like it said on the bottle (ever the rebel i am). it says it would kick in in about 20-30 minutes. great. more time to kill. so i read a bit, this book called pink slip by some wop chick, whatever, i already read it. and of course i’m worried that once the pill kicks in i may never ever wake up because what if i’m not suppose to take this little blue pill thing what with the medication i’m on. so i start to panic and worry more and the racing thoughts come bak again so i read some more and the little fucking pill is still not kicking in and i think fuck, if this is my last nite alive i should write some goodbye letters, but then what would i say, “hi i’m a retard and i think i’m going to die, i really appreciated our friendship and you’re really nice..tra la…you can have that pink shirt of mine you always liked. i love you. don’t be too sad. life is boring anyway.”

then i got this crazy idea to publish a whole book of fake suicide letters. wouldn’t that be cool? no. heart-wrenching and gay, i think.

so i finally fell asleep and dreamt i gave birth to a miniature little baby that was like see-thru and it started talking to me right away. it was a boy. i asked him what his name should be and he said mike and i said no way there are too many mikes in my family, in fact, too many mikes in the world already. and there was all this blood on my crotch, on the floor, everywhere. and all these people came in the room and started yelling and then the dream turned into something completely different and perverted. nevermind the rest.

so i’m still alive. yay. i dyed my hair black today. again. my roots were growing in. and i bought this fucking hot furry leathery russian winter hat thing yesterday, underwear, two shirts, and one of those eye things u wear to block out the light when u sleep. in the morning my room is so bright it’s like a fucking suntan booth. and there’s this fucking tree that scrapes against the wall of my house, right where my room is and it DRIVES ME COMPLETELY FUCKING INSANE LIDJ;nesao rhesfreskjfnARRRRGH!

i also dreamt i got some bitchin’ tattoos on my arms. maybe i’ll do that soon.

bye.

i don’t recall that chair falling over with me innit still and that fat biatch laughing at me. and i don’t remember how much i drank, either. i don’t remember being dipped and then dropped on the dancefloor. was that a girl or a boy? i must have hit my head. and i don’t know how those curtains got all wrecked and torn off the windowsill. jeez. but at least we’re all still friends. at least i think we are. i’ve never partied in this part of town before, with these kids and with all their weird teknoise drumnbasswhatchoomacallit. i just kick it at the bar and talk into the bowl of peanuts and hopefully someone who knows about fear factor will stop by and listen to my theories. um ok that’s all.

snatchshots larue

this is the crappiest porn site i have ever seen- I am glad you didnt want paying for it.Post some further nudie pix , or i may go elsewhere.

Mr Coz | 01.09.04 – 4:03 pm | #

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comment of the week. i am the crappiest porn ever. but i can still bust it on the floor. old people wine parties are awesome when u can get fat fuckity women twistin’ in their sandals and their tights.

fuck blogs

bigger picture thing of faggy art

you guys should bid on my art pieces. yessum. here they are.

piece 1

piece 2

piece 3

piece 4

do it. ps i barfed on the floor at the phoenix on saturday nite. it was great. everybody loved it. hi mum.