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2002-07-22/ all that she said was true.


i love how bjork pronounces her g's as j's. yay. 'jiv her some time, jiv her some space, all that she said was true"

my rubbery casting stuff! i got it today. (not that it came today. it came eons ago. but the post office closes at four fucking o' clock and i only had a chance to go get it this morning at eight-thirty. stupid post office NAZIS. yeah, you heard me, post office. i'll make lamp shades out of the lot of them!) and. my nunzilla, which i had to get to fill out the $10 minimum, came too. wheee! i was forced to take it to work and so, i wound it up all day and made it spit sparks at everyone. yay! yay for nunzilla!

grrr. i really hate my father. grrrrrr.
i envy people who love their fathers, who have fathers that are lovable. grrrrr. stop taking your fucking clothes off in the living room. i don't care if noone is in there with you, it just isn't decent to leave your filthy underwear in the middle of the floor. you bitch.

7:48 p.m. E
kat*~

2002-07-21/ HOLY FISH BALLOON!


i honestly thought with every bone in my body that i was not going. because. that's just how it goes with me. but! i called up kim and asked if she would like to go (and drive my mum and me) and she said yes and YES. i am going.

and so, seeing as the karma had to be leveled, my modem is fried.

really, i'm jumping up and down and screaming and shit, but inside my head.

mum's going to make me a pair of bloomers. :D

5:49 p.m. E
kat*~

2002-07-20/ i'm mad.


heck.

i am in a funk again. and no, not just because i will most likely not see raspy. it's this house! and the people and things within it! get them away from me! killkillkill!!!

my horrifying ape of a brother and his antichristal child and my shrieking ogre of a father and his disgusting filth mongrel...

ag. and my computer is still broken, so i can't hole myself up in my room constantly. arrg.

4:20 p.m.
kat*~

2002-07-19/ ARG!


WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!! the closest my raspy will EVER come to me, and it's STILL too fucking far away! I HATE EVERYTHING! pooh. :P

6:18 p.m. E
kat*~

2002-07-17/ a dream is a wish your heart makes...


i love my dreams. they are very odd and disturbing. :D

take last night:
i was living in a large... area, like an open warehouse or something, constantly dark, constantly dripping rain, wetness everywhere, and all sorts of hobo/raver kids. there were couches, boxes, little television sets, the occassional barrel fire. i was sitting at a regular kitchen table in the openness, watching some video one of the raver hobos had that documented Mariloon carving an intricate mechanized horse out of wood.
sitting on my ragged old couch, i thought to myself, "yeah. that is so cool, since Mariloon sent me the head."
because, you see, i'd sent him a really nice letter about my poor, unfortunate brother, and he felt sorry for me and since he knew me and loved me, he sent me the head of his mechanical wooden horse.
excepting- he sent it in pieces, in a metal box filled with mineral oil. of course, i had to put it back together, it was too neat to be in pieces. and, seeing as how it was very intricate, this was taking quite some time to accomplish. so, i was sitting at the table, trying to get the bones of the inner ear of the horse to stay together, when some of the raver kid hobos asked if i wanted to come to some club with them. "of course!" said i, seeing as i was a gorgeous, ear-flap-hatted raverhobokid myself, so i ditched the wooden horse ear bones for a bunch of soaking wet teenagers hanging out in beat up cars in some sort of post-apocalyptic scene under a bypass, which was where this shack of a club was. the sky was always thundercloud-dark, and all of us were young and flexible-looking, fretted out with the hippest raverhobokidwear available, and we all enjoyed each other's company, and so did Mariloon, who was in a giant victorian ghosthouse suddenly across the way. i started to hyperventilate, of course, seeing as my poor brother, to whom i had given my zim doll, had completely destroyed it, what with rolling it around on the floor of the soggy victorian ghosthouse; but i couldn't say anything. i mean, i had given it to him. and Mariloon was making another mechanical wooden horse-head, so all was well.
i'd known that there Mariloon since long ago, and we were talking about the old times as he fitted felt-like skin over the new mechanical horse head. the horse kind of made me uneasy, as it kept flexing its mouth, open and shut, and worked out the stiffness of its new felt skin.

on and on, and i wish i'd had a camera, so that i could have recorded it and shown it to you here.

but that's impossible, so you'll just have to rely on my poor memory.

7:39 p.m. E
kat*~





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