oh hi marlon.

passive agressive

For the past couple of weeks now i've been noticing that i have been hitting a noticiable amount of butterflies while driving. This, I thought, cannot be a good sign, so i googled their symbolic meaning. Turns out, butterflies are very symbolic, indeed. They represent long life, marital bliss, and the passing souls of the dead- All important things, i suppose, and here i am obliterating them with the windshield of my stupid red tracer. A bad omen? I vote yes. . . and lord knows i need more of those.

http://www.creedthoughts.blogspot.admin.gov/

the introduction

the other day i was walking home from work along hewitt avenue. It was a balmy seventy degrees and the sun was shining ever so nicely. I was locked inside my head, barricaded nicely behind headphones. While crossing the street i couldnt help but wonder what it would be like if some high hormonal teen came rattling down the street in an old hatchback and hit me en route. I guess i visualized the bumper hitting my legs first, obviously. This probably would project me onto the hot summer pavement. Unnaturally unconscious, blood 'n the scattered contents of my purse, just like you see on t.v. Not too gruesome but believable- heart racing action and false tragedy. I kept walking. Luckily, perhaps, this chicken made it to the other side. There i was, walking in someones lawn, able to let everything go for a few brief moments. I accepted that i had no control over this sprawling universal property (the universe) and all i could do for anyone was be. To wake up every morning and go to my shitty job and then walk home only to fight mundanity with visions of sudden injury or death. Life can cause those, i hear. Letting go, i walked the eight 1/2 blocks home. The soundtrack was artificial and the scenery was real. I figured if i just kept walking i could hold onto my fleeting revelation, but i dont know. I wouldnt know. I sulked up the stairs to my cave/apartment. I live there. 1311 hewitt- the ugliest house in the midway area. I live with a yogi now, and she is wise. But sir arther conan doyle and Quasimodo got nothing on me- the real hp.

heart shaped box.

tonight i look like kurt cobain.
it's 1992 for haley p.
hey. wait.

8:42 a.m.

an inevitable walk in the pouring rain's got me thinkin.
I should sleep.
I miss a lot of things.
Places i haven't even been to yet.

past me.

i found this note under my bed at my parents house. While funny, i wish i could remember exactly why i wrote this.

currently

" you can be attracted things that aren't beautiful"

i feel great.