this welcome message is configurable. My enter key stops working from time to time. Metallica is screeching through my speakers, there's nothing I can do about it. (this is no longer true. Interpol now soothes my still-waking ears.) Ross is twenty hours away from leaving again without seeing me, the bastard. I feel the urge to go bowling, and my mother just came home with the ingredients for White Russians. She's sneezing all the way upstairs, I can always hear her. She screams like the end of the world. Today is the first day of spring, there is snow on the ground, this is somehow infinitely sad to me. I should be outside, my coward boots are stifled by the crunch and slushel. That's the sound that sloppy snow makes. Slushel, slushel, and a whine in my child head. You don't realize how many line breaks you make until your enter key dies. Oh well, oh well. (at the bottom of the ocean she dwells... Stella.) When I was young I wanted a different name, I still want a different name. I made lists. Lists with little dashes before each name. Stella, Elana, Lisette. I've always wanted to start introducing myself with a new name, see how well it worked. I haven't heard the name Samantha spoken in my ear enough times. I am going to put on my philly-skinhead-thrift-store-steel-toe boots and Do Something. I need glam rock and loud excitement. Too many cobwebs in my soul.
Posted by samantha at March 20, 2004 04:16 PM