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LiveJournal for triscuit.
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Saturday, December 6th, 2003 |
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i'm here. with a heart so in love, it's convinced it should stop being a heart, being because it's just been told that it's not enough to move mountains. yours, |
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Monday, December 1st, 2003 |
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“promise me.” “promise you what.” “promise me you won’t turn out like her. sitting in your apartment, drinking yourself to sleep. alone.” “if you won’t promise me, i’m going to make this hurt a lot more than it has to.” brian and aruap. i have some nasty ass burnt bruschetta rotting next to me. bottles and bottles and cans surrounding my fake bed. i took a cab to make it to my baby brother’s tenth birthday, last night. it cost 60 dollars. why do i have get a sick sour impending doom feeling because i spent 60 dollars. i mean, it was more than worth it. someone blessed me with an amazing iranian cabbie, who had lived all around the world and had a daughter he thought the world of. my brother did that “nunaaaa, hiii,” and gave me a huge hug in front of all of his tough, macho 10-year-old friends. maybe it’s because i get anxiety attacks about getting another anxiety attack. i don’t have the money to go the the er. i can’t keep calling him over 4 in the morning when he has to be in class, at 9, to pretend to listen to civil procedure. we have pillow talk, and he starts asking questions about silver when he thinks i’m so close to sleep i won’t remember answering. well intentioned lack of respect. i know my mom loves me. i know she wants me to know she does. but it’s really hard. silver and i broke up. in a sweep of tears and trying to swallow the lumps in our throats. jonny is back. i didn’t tell anyone because i know they’d kill him right after they beat me. i like my lj. xanga people would always read and then when they saw me would refer to my ramblings, smashed out in a moment of wallowing/fury. i miss ny. i miss how i could wear my cousin johnny sweater, with all of its coffee stains, and it would still be the cutest. no one would snatch my mittens away from me, they’d ask where i got them from and bum a cigarette. |
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Monday, November 24th, 2003 |
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dearest hipstomp, update morer, sooner. -triscuit |
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Wednesday, November 19th, 2003 |
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i'm happy with blaming myself. i'm happy with being an alone. : no one to get angry at. no one to miss. i don't like it when things aren't under my dry, unmanicured fingers. i like clay: you make it. i like things i can make, trash, fix. see it emerge and be, as it comes along. 2d has just never been me. i can't see what doesn't exist. a surface, of any kind, would never be enough for me to be able to finish. i like clay. i like shaping, on my own. with my own. i don't like liars. i don't like it when i've liked you, and i find out it's only been the lies. i don't feel like i've been duped, i'm not vexxed. i think you can love me for only what i am, only if you do the same for yourself. i miss you, girl. i miss you a Lot. i need to laugh with you. purge my soul of all that rots and festers. all that sours my smiles, and exhausts me to not be average but perfect. i need you beside me to tell me i can work, school welly. AND smile along the way. no matter. no matter who throws stones at me. mommy, i'm sorry i'm not always smiling. i'm sorry you're not perfect. i'm sorry you're not perfect. girl, i miss you, i miss you. come and hug me, and gross me out with you au natural pubes. ebood i miss you. i miss your froo froo "alo"'s i am your triscuit. i am a triscuit, but only with you. i miss you silver. i miss your baby's, and princess's. it's unconditional. even though i'm not. . i'm not alone. : thank you for loving me. thank you for forcing me to have someone to miss. do not. Do. Not. don't do this to me, if you'll never give me another reason to miss you. never able to smell your day upon you. please come back? just for a moment. i want to know you're breathing i want to know you're not thinking of me. maybe thinking of me. i have no promises to hand out. just the thought. the moment of knowledge is all i want. you've given me all. all, always. just once more. |
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Monday, November 17th, 2003 |
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-modest mouse [i do have a prelude to all of this. but with the stolen mittens, and the huk kwai trying to rape my hand, the lost gucci glasses...i need not cush the weak. not my problemo.] i think it's amazing. super duper amazing. how these peepz " 'popular' " [double quotes completely necessary] on their lj? like..when you find out about whom they truly be bein'? are completely not who they let their ljs make them appear to be. like..those who meet people online, and like..fall in love, ALONE..and eh..like go all crazy and let loose with your narcissism? yeah...convinced that everyone else is convinced. myopia is only pleasant for the myopic. or the sociopathic. humberts do not understand this need for blogs. philosophically, we could achieve many of the same self-satisfying things, by journaling. like..in a real journal. blogs, i know, started out well. a place provided for those seeking. read some others' interesting words as well. save for convenience, a revisit later on. comment. because? why not. but. le sigh. for ejemplo: aa? all about asian diaspora, a forum. too many 11-year-olds came along? and then the pedos they bring, and aa had to start charging for everything. xanga is the same; beginning to dwindle. i used to think of livejournal as my haven, my refuge. my last and only not least, but best option. does anyone remember slate? but just like anything else and the masses of hipsters convinced, they're hip and not hipstery, it has been stretched, marred, mottled, mutated with the effects and affects of pollution. misinterpretation, neglect on all parts. too much of a good thing not taken for what it is, and used as a pawn in an ugly ugly "love me" digital camera adobe not enough adobo society. i've spoken of immediate reciprocation before. well it applies here too. on the cyber oompa loompa net. don't save me as a friend, because i saved you. which is symmetrical when it comes to, do not unsave me because i unsaved you. it's not the fact that i can't replace my one of a kind rabbit vintage mittens. but that someone stole them from out of my pocket. it's not that the boy was dirty, it was that he thought i wouldn't want to judo-chop his cloaca once he did grab me. or didn't even care about my want or need to judo chop his nappy head. let my pettiness thrive in it's independence and fabrications. let me live and trot along on my convincing lies and happy fascicles. please: be petty alone. dearest triscuit, i am the protagonist of every word, of every work. take me for what i only say, and only what i say. hold no pretense, nor knowledge. do not waste my time. -triscuit |
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Monday, November 10th, 2003 |
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oh. i forgot about this shirt. well it's see through. so should i wear a bra? a tank top, or a bra and a tank top. well, i don't like the cleavage my black bra's give me, so it's just a tank top. this one is long, but shiny. this one is matte, but then my belly will show and girls will give me dirty looks. but then the matte one doesn't lift at all, and my boobs won't pop out. but then the shiny one is tighter and warmer. am i going to wear eye shadow today? do i need to fill in my brows? but if i fill in my brows i'll need to eye-liner. so i do need to wear eye shadow. ok, purple it is to go with my gray. but will this sparkly purple not match my scarf? maybe i should wear the regular purple. but then the regular purple is sort of pinky and then i can't wear my pink gloves. so i'll wear my rabbit mittens. ok. i i forgot my trail mix, for the third day. socks. and my notes. sometimes, i wish i would die. this morning? i had about an hour to study for a 20 chapter mid-term i hadn't begun reading for yet, at all. i'm out of the shower, and i'm like..ok. just sweats today, sports bra, and some nice non-binding undies. it's cold anyways. -- i wanted to die yesterday. damn my seratonin-leveling-medication dependant seratonins. |
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come and find me. please? don't let me kill myself. slowly and unsuccessfully come smother me with your kisses loving me knowing me, and knowing you know i love you. you you you you're beautiful inside and out. forgive me and non-beautiful ways. my ways devoid of courage: to address and charge at what i fear. i will not ask you to forgive me for fearing what i didn't even know. i was less than human. for a moment, for all of our moments. i knew you needed me to need you. i didn't want to need you, i couldn't need anyone. forgive me philippe. -triscuit |
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Monday, November 3rd, 2003 |
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captain's log: 1. surface piercing that was said to never grow out, has grown out. skin resembled a layer of vegetarian/fake duck skin, made out of tofu. my back skin made similar noises as crispy craspy tofu when torn. 2. ok. so. i have a boyfriend. how does this happen more than once? it's not 'g'. keep up bitch. i love g. shut up. who would believe me if i said i had bagged bam margera - finally. no one? well, i didn't bag him. so yeah. 3. i have cat's scratch disease. i look like a battered bush. 4. school is poot. 5. i'm listening to...i think elvis. i want to tap my toe, but i'm tired. dang lymph node attacking germies. oh, it's meatloaf - paradise by the dashboard life. g's downstairs neighbors would listen to "i would do anything for love(but i won't do that)", on repeat, while bowling. 6. the secretary isn't so much good accidental porn. it's just good porn. |
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Wednesday, October 29th, 2003 |
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People who aren't real. They aren't bad. People who abandon, and people who never come true, they leave scars on my heart . . . and I keep looking amongst them for the one that comes true, I don't need her to heal all those scars, I'd be happy if she just stitched shut her own. You know I could hold you in bed, kiss you, and such. Kiss me, I miss when butterflies were not suffocating, not things that landed in one's lungs, and died. I won't take any apology you give me, when you can help it, and you can help it. I know there will be times you can't help hurting me. It's not now. So don't be a coward, remember that your broken heart sings out, that even in its fear, it wants to be real. Know that I know, what it means to be touched, call me and bring me to you. Let's kiss, kiss, kiss, walk hand and hand through the city, heal each other's little flaws, which only seem big, because the world's so small. Let's try to be the best of friends, and not worry about anything else. I've tried to convince you, and what you'll do instead, is be a compilation of facts and figures, which plays out as a poem of middle school love, of virginity lost, like a piano crashing on a beach. I don't want to let you, I want to believe in the kids, united. believe. call me. together will be nice. hurting yourself won't help me at all. Averting the possibility of pain, will just insure pain. I know what it is to keep living. If I'm just one more standard part, it doesn't matter what happens, but to me it feels like it does. believe, touch, feel, hold love. G you want to hear the shit i gave him? someone fucking kill me. shave my head and tell me i'm ugly. someone stop me. i rant and rave about the idiots i have to live with, but at least their crimes aren't malicious. omission of knowledge can, and sometimes is argued as not guilty [differnt than innocent]. ME, on the other hand: knows how fucked up and non-sensical i am; being. see, recognize, and see. grasp and understand, and won't stop. what seems like in earnest, i charge on. am i crying out to be helped? no. i'm not. then why do i make sure there are those who fall for me. i'm sorry, i seem to forget: not everyone is made with a "broked" heart. not everyone gives up after half of a try. don't forgive me when i ask to be forgiven. don't swallow my coated words and satisfy me - to no end; feed my false ideas of happiness. |
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Tuesday, October 28th, 2003 |
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In my dreams the fascists take me home. The problems come when I lose my color in puddles I thought would make me clean. I want to be strapped down. I was here I just couldn't speak. Feed me sugar cubes till I bend my neck for you. -G. subj: p.s. make me your lover. touch me like that. don't let me be wrong, in your mouth, in my mouth, everything, but not as important as pancakes and sunsets, white socks on brown, acceptance of old scars, and knowing how to love and be loved, but that's not now, no, not now . . . but kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. Hold me in your hand, pounce on me, let's be friends, lover, let's be lovers, friend. I remember, a good boy, a bad girl, a bad boy, a good girl . . . touch me, be smart like that. I'm learning to be smart, it's like a magic trick, yeah, Wednesday, yeah, please touch. |
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where are you. i had a dream about you. i remember remembering, but now i can't remember it. i think you were being yourself, super accommodating. and we had like curfews or something. a lot of my dreams involve being chased/running away. and like..despotic fascist governments. ha. i just laughed in the lab. and then tried to cover it up like i was breathing really hard...like trying to get a boogie out. which i soonthereafterrealizedwasn'tanybetter. my space bar is working. i just wanted to cover up the fact that i don't know if soon thereafter is supposed to be one word. i'm pretty sure it's not, but i like to be stupid like that. -triscuit. |
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Thursday, October 23rd, 2003 |
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I can't sleep. I bet if you held me I could calm down. Brush the hair from my neck, let's kiss on hot veins. the tip of the tongue on the upper lip. Sing to me, do you know Korean? I want not to understand a word you say. I want to feel an emotion. In a bed and dreaming. Kissing your inner thigh. Don't say you love me, but feel it. Lay your head on my chest, listen to my heartbeat, breath in boy, while I swim in you. Look to me, refuse me your secret and laugh, I pin you down, still laughing. Kiss down your spine between piercings, tell you I love you in the faintest of faint whispers, because I say it before it's true, but you're warm, and I don't know if you're mine, and I don't know if I'm yours, but I think I want it, yeah I think I want it, but I bite my tongue, and lay my head against you. You laugh, and provide pancakes, and it's a good morning, it is. |
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Monday, October 20th, 2003 |
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hey there. havent heard from you in a while so i decided to write....im taking a study break anyway. i didnt go rafting this weeekend bcuz i recieved a notice stating that everyone would leave at 2. and fridays from 2-5 i have a lab. and i couldnt miss it this week bcuz i had to hand in a lab report and i had to give a presentation. plus, these labs are a bitch to make up. i guess it all worked out for the best though. i have a lot of work to do and i dont wanna be working all this weekend while i am at home. i remember you telling me about a book...Doublespeak. that seems really interesting. i think it was you that was talking about it. id really like to read it sometime. along with The Bell Curve. i cant wait to see you this weeekend. wahoo. mebbe ill see you friday at school bcuz i have an appointment there anyway. and i think my brother mentioned taking me to school...bcuz apparently, this one girl we were firends with a looong time ago goes too. its gonna be a busy weekend....i wanna go shopping bcuz there is sales tax here on clothes and thats just not right. plus we have to go halloween costume shopping. have you decided what you wanna be yet? I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE YOU. im getting ready to register for spring courses...and it kinda sucks. there are a lot of classes i wanna take but most of them are already filled up. ive been getting lazy in the morning so my dream recall has suffered...immensely. school is depressing...bcuz the end is no where in sight. ive just been told the average number of years it takes to get a doctorate in psych i 7 years....7 YEARS!!! by the time i graduate id have spent 6/7 of my enitre life in school!!! i dont know if i can handle that...im already on the verge of being a burn out. k...well i miss you and looking fwd to seeing you. [thatll probly get me through this week...] love you aruap allets |
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Monday, October 13th, 2003 |
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i have to poop really badly. but i can't, if i get up someone will take my computer. sometimes i hate being a morning pooper. and lactose intolerant. and uber sensitive to fiber. ok bye. 72. s-m-r-t! no, seriously. the highest was an 87. well, i know for a fact that it wasn't, but that's what he announced, so i'm going to assume my ass off and believe he curved it. fat, and getting fatter. g is bored. so am i. i used to ache awaiting our first kiss. not so much anymore. we're both studious losers and do not have any time for each other. way too busy with procrastinating and then freaking out. s will be here, in a week!! i miss my puppies. i miss my bratty kitty. i miss my dad. i'm working really hard to have them replaced. i can visit ohga as often as i like; i've found someone who wants to be my daddy [ha]; and i act like i'm a puppy. not incontinent. most of the time. "it must be strange. to be so compelling. that they have to shout from the rooftops, how they love your fat ass." "what do you want to call me. say it." "i'm not an old fart." "i used to be scared of you. not so much anymore." "i love [how] you [are]." "you rock the i-rock bubble." |
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Friday, October 10th, 2003 |
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i have this theory: the rest of the united states isn't REALLY there. i mean, there's land. and there's people living on the land. but, REALLY a west virginia, or a deleware? don't think so. i sometimes doubt a jersey. too much emphasis on propagandist and their nationalismicalistness. i say Tallahassee is a state. he says i'm wrong. that's as far as he'll ever go to risk my circle*. say i'm wrong when i already know i am. while with me, he's only about me. about me being happy. catering and warm. he knows i'm scared, wounded, defensive. frigid and maliciously affectionate. he knows i'll hurt him, but like misha had said: you fall in love with their fight, not with "whom they beez"; not their face, their voice, their words. their merits nor anything else retarded we hold significant. just their struggle, and your egotistic apathy. and wishful hope to relieve. all the while, omniscient. or is it, nevertheless? at any rate. he leaves me alone. perfectly. he doesn't forget to remind me, "don't forget me". *10th grade geometry def of a circle. In the silence of the night, I want you . . . In the silence of the night, I fear you . . . I don't know you, I know you . . . You don't know me, you are me . . . and you should know I fear your fear like everything else. I want the peace of the ocean, a hand in my hair, to be tamed while I'm taming. I want an understanding that wants more and knows what more there could be. I'm not a bad child, I'm a broken child, a real boy and a real beast, catch me, catch me, bite my neck, and domesticate me. - g i understand, moor. i know i understand, that's how i can hate your existence. it's how you make yourself feel better. i know my words will fall on dumb ears, still i want to futilely try. i can be idiotic too. i never did anything wrong to you. i was myself, never asked you to love me. nor to look at me. you did it all on your own. credit no one but yourself, for everything. you opt to control or not control. it's yours. i am sorry you have nothing to fill your life but with self-pity and bitterness. i would wish you the best, but i know you'll never reach anything but what you've already given yourself. learn compassion and have mercy. leave me out of your inane world. no matter HOW MUCH you want me to add to your oh-so-sought-after-melodrama... i'm busy. i'm even more tired. claim to understand me? then address me as so. don't charade about and then contradict your "full-of-thought" words with thoughtless actions. |
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Sunday, October 5th, 2003 |
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Time: 1:44 pm. Edited i avoid lamyun. it gives me bad dreams. i avoid lsd, i have a heart murmur. i'm poor. i had lamyun. cup lamyun; the purest kind. in my dream my dad was tanned and not stressed [i don't think i've ever known him to be relaxed]. he was asking me if i was hungry. my sister was telling me my mom ate so much of what he cooked she got sick. he acted as if nothing had ever happened, so i did the same. i wanted to lunge at him and just touch him, but my dream wouldn't let me. our small talk was unnerving; i just wanted to touch his flesh and know he was real. for a moment in a dream, a dream's moment. do you know what it feels like to be trapped in your own body? an exploding walnut bombie shell full of deafening screams; mute and moot. with the passion, compassion, adrenaline to crush a mountain and you can't get your arm's fingers to move. |
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Thursday, October 2nd, 2003 |
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i like this one. he amazes me. constantly. he's brilliant in his awesome humilty. and he likes me. ME. i didn't know i could do that. i know i can a lot, but not this. what's a "sadistic fantasy"? i make up words, and don't really expect anyone else to understand me. but, it's ok to ask. i know that for sure. someone want to tell me if this is like the cool lingo i failed to catch on to, yet again?* *see: sarcasm, ie rhetoric of the defeated? please do not be mistakin' for irreverence. reify no more words and leave me alone. |
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Tuesday, September 30th, 2003 |
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ohga: 1, 2. | ||
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Monday, September 29th, 2003 |
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How would you go about getting to know me? I need someone to watch movies with. Events come and go. People need people, I'm peephole. I want to write something deep and meaningful, but I'm not manic, I'm not riding, nor writing the crest of the moon. Can't sleep though - stupid, stupid laundry room. I want to get to know you, getting to know you, getting to know you, but I've got time only in this small pocket of folded time, for talk, yes? See, no. No time - like the present, but different, because the present is a reprieve. The present is usually a reprieve - from? the past. Want, want, want, always want . . . Differ, ent. Different things, always different things, improveisation. Happen? Could: (You could not misinterpret the things I speak, you could know always that I'm wrong, that I can't keep up, can't catch the rabbit.) When I say what I say, I'm not being mean, I'm being lossed!! Hard to keep up, speed creates abrasion - slow, slow, bassline fractures. I know how to heel - help heal a hole in heart: patience? But when I'm patient I'm always regretting the future, regetting the passed absences. furget? regret - passed rabid - greyhounds go - proper fucked! NATURE -deifyants! kiss, kiss, secret - don't notice, don't tell. Note us, secrets, the fingers are what makes man a man, and that's something girls understand, but they like the skills of a tounge - more than a parrots, it shows the brain, wait . . . I can't speak secrets. I just want to understand. No demand. Interrogatories. No statements! Interrogatories. Territories. Explore and command. Outstretched hand . . . G |
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Friday, September 26th, 2003 |
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go ahead and be unwelcomed. but be humane: be gracious. tread where unwanted, heeding to caution: wary of loose clothing. delusions of grandeur should kill you. but probably won't. i've concluded over and over again! with metapractics: all that matters is what you know. it can be false, wrong, idiotic - to me. only what you know to be good and what makes you happy is the only truth you need. i hate you stupids. maybe so much, because i'm jealous. you get to be happy and satisfied with yourself today. right now. this moment: all that exists. hypocrites have it the best: they get to love their world and make fun of it too. if i would wish for one thing, it would be: to be just like you. |
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LiveJournal for triscuit.
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