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my last chance - 2005-02-19
The first thing I did was type the name of this entry, and Firefox, saucy minx that it is, seems to remember every little thing that I have written in every little specific white space, and wanted to title this entry 'my tongue will be your lever 2000'. A hearty licking over all your 2000 parts. I see the problem, now, and it is that I am too preoccupied with trying to survive. I don't have much time after that to do all those things I always talked about here, or on pimpHAT, like loving the world, and foraging through trees and spiritual vaginas. It gets to the point that I really don't know how I feel anymore, or whether or not I am a happy puppybear. All I know is that I work, and I come home, and I lay in bed, and some night it is warmer than others... I used to know what exactly the 'more' was that Third Eye Blind challenged me to find in my semi-charmed kinda life. But now all I know is that there is a 'more', but it lacks a name or a shape. It lacks even a feeling. When stuff like this begins to strike, I may as well go out and procreate. Too bad I hate children. This is how old ladies collect cats and yarn. And with all this I end off saying... Don't leave me behind, because I am beginning to wonder if I even need to go much farther, when there is so much to be learned right here.
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