here i am in all cartooNglory. that’s it. i’ve decided i am growing back my hair AsaP so i kan get it all scruffy and bedHead-like all over ageN. i am tired of looking like a boy.

i am still in my pajamas
and i have not brushed my teeth
and my hair is messy
and i am wearing one bunny slipper
and one scotty dog slipper
and plaid pants
and a dirty old t-shirt that sez, “La fermina & COMPANY Modelling agency” on it and this gay fake-vintage adidas jacket and i am obviously bored becuz i am saying these things.

it was so hard trying to explain to him that ireally need to watch this movie
and no i can’t watch something else and then he’s like, well, why not watch it downstairs on that vcr and i tried to explain to him that i had alreddy made up my mind that i was to watch it in the livingroom on the couch
and then he asks me if i am baked and i say no but i am smiling like a goon and then he understands and goes and gets the other copy.
but my mum ,geez, she’s like, NO, i wanna watch meet the parents, dazed and confused is only about stoners and drugsssss and ughhh, then she goes upstairs and reads the paper or something.

i just realized it was monday
i have march break becuz i am a skoolgirl
and i spent all weekend stoned
and it was a mission trying to explain to my dad
why the vcr was not working
and i was all baked
and i really wanted to watch my moovie
and i thawt it was the film that was fucked
so i convinced him to go to movie shoppe and
get the other copy
of dazed ‘n confused
and then brought it back
and we plopped it in
mind u i was really baked
and he had started in on the blue himself
and that copy was all fuzzy too
arg.
so we figger out that it is the vcr
so he pops in this magik tape that cleans out
the vcr
and it works
then i make noodles
and smear lip balm all over my face
and watch dazed and confused
“Please do hold all my telefone calls i am busy.”

yeh so what my face is unSEEable, i look wicked and maybe eveN kooL and such.
It snowed like a bitch and my hair went all gay after i took my hat off – bedHeaD producT turns into helmet goopPaste cement once you put a hat on it.

She’s on her third cup of horrible, swamp coffee.

She likes the bitter kick. She’s wired – not really awake or asleep. She’s reached the

grey area. She sees the metaphor of a metaphor of a metaphor…….. She’s OCD. She groups

the letters of words from sentences to see if the sentence is odd or even. She even counts the

‘period’ and the dot of the ‘i’ .

She can’t stop thinking. Always moving.

They think she’s on drugs but she’s not though should most certainly be.

“Dristan and alcohol are a bad mix,” she states. “The back of your head pounds and only one

eye works.”

She’s been so pissed-off lately. So harsh. Cold.

She is ice.

She’s got these perma-bags under her eyes and fixed, ‘joue pas au con avec moi’

expression on her face. That’s french for ‘don’t fuck with me’ . We looked it up in this french

slang dictionary at some bookstore, days ago.

She creates her own hell – her own world of anger. She gives off these vibes: Go to

hell!, look at me, I’m better than you!

The cigarette dangling from her mouth is a constant. It’s so, “Fuck you. I accept toxins,” and

she holds her cigarette like a wise, old woman – a traveller from Portofino. Someone you

would stare at from across the room and make weird faces at and you would convince yourself

of what you think that person is all about. What their insides are like. But you are wrong. You

are always wrong.

She’s got this way of looking at you.

Right at you.

Me.

She is danger.

There is no point in my being nice to her – or warming to her because she doesn’t give a fuck.

She could be gone tomorow.

She is crazy brave.

She says you learn a lot about people by the messages they leave on answering

machines – how much they hate themselves, their insecurities.

She’s right about that. She is always right.

There’s no point in my obsession about her, because I know she doesn’t give me or the

thought of me a second thought.

I am her white noise. Background music, like in movies or supermarkets. Always there

but you don’t hear it unless you really pay attention. And when you hear it, you sigh and

remark how annoying it is. But when it’s gone it doesn’t feel right. It’s uncomfortably quiet.

I think I want to save her from herself. She is all I know.

“More coffee?”

She doesn’t even flinch. Usually, that means yes. When she’s had enough, she up and

leaves. No goodbye. See you later.

“Ffffff….,” that’s what laughter looks like on a piece of paper. She told me that once.

Don’t dare correct her. She only speaks what she believes, otherwise it’s not

important..

She’s been sitting there awhile now. She wants us to think she is waiting for someone to

arrive shortly. We won’t sit with her.

She has this presence. We all stop and look when she walks in. We say hello, how are

you – though, we leave her be. We know she wants and wants not, our company. We will

never know which one she wants.

She’s waiting for someone who will never show up.

He doesn’t exist. Yet.

I’ve realized as of late that i spend a lot of time sitting rather than standing or lying down. I think my ass will begin to expand soon and take on a life of its own if i don’t get out there AsAp and shake it or something.i walk around all day when i am not sitting half asleep. i’ve taken to koffee like a sailor to the Sea.

Annie’s boyfriend put grapes in her twat
awhile back
and then one got stuck up there real far
and they panicked and thawt it would rot or something
so then she tried to pee it out
but it still wouldn’t come out of her
they tried putting their fingers in there
but then it mite squash
anyhow it finaLLy came out
and then her boyfriend ate it.

I told annie she shoulda clenched her pussy
real tite
or just waited if it got smushed after poking at it
then yer pussy naturally just i dunno
spits it out like discharge

or slides out

Annie is this hot chinkGurl who sits beside me in English Class. she has like ten pairs of really neat shoes