2000-10-01 - - 02:41:10

Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody.

I can't move from my door to my bed without knocking haphazardly stacked books over. Everyone is understandably tired of dealing my stuff cluttering up the place, so I moved it all back into my room. Good news - my bruise collection is growing!

Tonight J and I were going to go and see It Came from Outer Space in 3-D, but we have lost our steam. It takes a lot to get me moving these days.

When I got out of the shower, I obediently put vitamin E stuff on the stupid dogbite scar just like I always do. I think my stubborn denial has gone on long enough. I'm going to have this scar for the rest of my fucking life. A scar, from that stupid dog's drooling mouth. It's mostly on my chest, but my boob didn't even escape unscathed. The big part is right on my collarbone which shows out of everything I wear. It irritates me so much; everytime I look down I think of that butt-ugly dog who tried to gnaw his way into my throat.

Fucking dogs!

I miss just having normal skin there.

I think I've whined enough.

Why, if every light is dark, do I continue dancing?

Why, if every light is dark, do I continue dancing?

Well, if it ain't finally a question that's worth answering.

I boogie for the raindrops
for the purity, the anger
for my childhood recollections
for the comic-book in my heart
the mocked intentions

the clarity, passion, seclusion
those cool summer nights
for the mark emerging across the street selling me stog's at half price
for the mights, the maybes, the nauseating pitfall
my girl, my friends
for the fact that my window opens towards a brick wall
for the three-legged dog I saw dragged on a leash
for the homeless man who walks my block in rainstorms with plastic bags on his feet

see, I throw away the tenders over one shoulder
and walk across broken glass
through every wicked world to kiss tomorrow's morning
not for nothing
you'll drown in a pool of your crooked morals
whispering 'maybe Aesop Rock was on to something.'

maybe, no promises.