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Anybody feeling nostalgic?
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Are you going?
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Off of their Death of Tragedy album.
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Got bored this morning. 1 The Master was at the opposite side of the table behind a cup of tea that was quickly losing steam. Either he drinks very little tea or he's been drinking tea so long he doesn't need to actually taste it to know when it's right. Regardless, he'd been stirring for some time. The question came without any pretentious introduction. “Do you think I've always been like this?” Whether he knew it or not, Dracula was asking me another question entirely. Was I curious about who he was before? I didn't have an answer. Maybe the question scared me a little. 2 The weekends were always a little odd at the manor. I say odd here and I mean Adam's Family kooky, with undertones of Johnny the Homicidal Maniac Insane. Sometimes the Master would read on Sunday nights. His library would make Watchers ache with envy. I use to think he got on Amazon.com and bought the most decrepit looking books they had just to show off. Then I realized how old he is. He's kind of sensitive about his age. I probably would be too in his place. This guy makes Angel seem like... Kinda like a Cherub. Ack, that's disturbing. 3 And on our third outing, I took Dracula to Denny's. There's just something spiritual about a grand slam breakfast that I felt I had to share with a vampire. Okay, you're right. I was hungry, and “worm of the day” doesn't cut it with me. Sue me. Oh wait, you can't, because I LIVE WITH DRACULA. Eat it, suckers. We were going to hit the arcade afterwards. The poor man needs to learn the subtleties of working out his frustrations via Street Fighter 2 in place of, say, torturing kittens. But the arcade was closed. So, I took Dracula rollerskating.
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I remember the great ant hill eruption of '94. That was a year. Fire poured from the sky, and tiny helocoptors that resembled mosquitoes buzzed our camps like... Mosquitoes. And they consumed our vital human liquids like mosquitoes too. Come to think of it, they were mosquitoes. But the ant hill eruption! I think it happened in '94. Or maybe it was '93... It was after the Regan administration, I know that much. Ants, rolling down the hill like molten lava... Coming through the walls! It was horrible! They ate part of Cynthia's face! God, why do people still ask me about the horrible ant eruption of '94? Now that I'm thinking about it, it was '93. But a penny saved is still a penny earned in my book.
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This is under the assumption that the baby is in fact fictional and the situation is hypothetical. I would probably write a handwritten "please take care of this baby that I love very much" letter, in which I will pretend to be an unwed teenage mother who is too frightened and impoverished to raise a child. I would then place baby and fictional note inside a hospital, where I would leave them both. What would become of this child I would never know, and he would most likely spend his entire life looking for his kindhearted but stupid mother, who did not, in fact, exist. This is both a kindness to the child and hilarious. Except that it's a mean spirited, awful thing to do, and no one should ever do it because it seems unethical. But hilarious. It would probably make a good movie. Cast Gene Wilder in the 80's as the now adult son of the fictional mother. That or instead of a note, place a copy of 1984 in the basket with the child. Or The Great Gatsby. Yeah, Gatsby would be the better choice there.
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Life's not a burger king, You don't always get to have things your way. You can, however, chose not to eat the tomatoes life serves you on your eturnal sandwich. You can easily pick them off should you chose. And although it is difficult to scrape off life's mustard, It's not an imposible task. There's no such thing as destiny, Until you make it happen. There's no such thing as prophesy, Until you make it happen. If you give them control, Then you made it happen. They say you can't have cake And eat it too. That's crap. Do you believe everything they tell you? It's all crap. You can take your cake, You can savoir your cake, You can leave your cake Out in the rain. And then you eat it on your terms. You're Citizen Kane, Love your cake on your own terms, Those are the only terms any man ever knows. So savoir it. Now. And when you're done, Scrap off the mustard. With an icepick. In the FACE! Like Chuck Norris. But not with a spoon, And certainly not while conversing with a bear, Or any other sort of communist. Good night and good luck.
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I arrived safely in Atlanta last night. I've had a most enjoyable visit. The kids are all still very cute. I have permission from my sister to use her computer, so yes, I am signed on to AIM off and on this weekend. She says there's something wrong with her sound card but I'm listening to the Killers right now and it sounds fine. Maybe a little canned, but that's headphones for you. I hope you're all well and that things at school are going nicely. I miss everybody. <3
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in a long time, I have a live journal. This may or may not be a temporary thing, and I may or may not ever update it. I'm working on several issues right now. |
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bored
complacent
sleepy
confused
chipper