Sunday, February 29, 2004

I write everyday!
This is stream of con-science, I say, say say say say say.
Last night was in
Cleveland, Cleveland, Cleveland, X3 or 4
Ka-leeeve-land.
Karen O, O O O O O O O oh oh oh, likes to repeat repeat repeat, repeter her words. O
She's a cool chic and an upstanding woman
SHE
SHE she she
WE gave him candy, compliments, and they got lipstick Je t'aime.
Je t'aime...X, ...

Friday, February 27, 2004

It's sunny today. What gives? The world should be gray in misery. But it isn't, so let's rock. Space Cadet Nat, what is the numder today? -less than 1. Thank you. It's actually a little more than 1, but just for fun, I'll let it slide hon. Hmm.

Shall I post mood, music, and some such voyeurism like the alive-journal kids do? Yes.

Music: The New Pornographers, "Breaking the Law"
Mood: *Bouncy yellow smiley face on the outside* / *Pouty gray poo poo ooo saddy saddy sad face on the soul broken inside*
Voyeurism: n (voyeur) one who is sexually gratified by observing sexual objects or acts; one obsessed with the veiwing of sensational or sordid events.

Well, I think I am so smart, huh? I looked up voyeurism in the dictionary and find it means not what I thought it did, meanwhile I insulted a bunch of people I don't know. I am wrong, though like Rousseau, one must make a point of stating their faults as well as their strengths. And my fault? Not using words by the correct definition.
pfft.

Thursday, February 26, 2004

(Nootaloo!!! Woo goot Kentanese.)

That's an inside joke, my appypollyoggies. For all you other (2) people who may read this, here's a fortune cookie,

"Make Neko CD for Ashley"

Ahh, that's only a post-it note. I have no fortune. I am a human being for Christ's sake, not a human becoming. Right?

Though, here's a recommendation, listen to Neko Case. She's like a Neo-Patsy Cline with Loretta Lynn and a pinch of near, but not too near, Simon and Garfunkel lyric. But it rocks just a tiny bit too, you won't drift off into a drowsy folk girl stream of consciousness and crayfish. I wrote one Sunday, a late afternoon on Ms. Case-
[Oh Neko, Neko, you've hypnotized me into a deep blue guitar drowning. That vicious voice that's next to Patsy's velvet, the black velvet on His dirty floors, it strangles with knives so divinely and I am in the most lustful shallow and hollow-filling stupor, chaining myself to it. ...?]

She's making me surreal!

Wednesday, February 25, 2004

I am now Angeline Bayou. I realize my first and last name is on these posts. I realize, by some divine rite, I may be ripped off in that way, with a con artist trying to be ME! ME ME ME, and me. So for now on, you will all know me by the above name, or Ciceros, Eggplant. OR girl who is bored at 11:17 pm. Geez.

Well, here is something good, a haiku written by Ethridge Knight. My writing professor was taught by him. It's rather good...(see above, "something good")

To write a blues song
is to regiment riots
and pluck gems from graves.

...Lovely.
'Tis, a memior by, uh, shit what is that dude's name? Uh ah HAAAA! That's not me. 'Tis is me: "Soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the moon pie and Butch is the sun..." Oiu, I am Villiam Stuart!

No, seriously dudes, This is day No. 2 in my new ad-venture through cyber hyper diaper space. Ground control to major Angela, how's it going upair? Things are well, I must say. My belly button apparently is giving off a toxic swamp gas, but otherwise, the food is good and the chicks are hot! Pabst all around, yo.

And in, how many days Cadet Nat? Cadet Nat - (she counts on her orange polished fingers) "I think 3 days." Trois.

Tuesday, February 24, 2004

Excavate (v) dig up a canary out of coal. I said "today is a shitty day, isn't it?" but I was smiling and wearing a pink paper crown while I said it. I contradict myself? I hope so. No, I know so. Happy? I hope you are. So where does this canary come on in? Through the front door...