April 27th
April 5th, 2094
March 29th 2001
Long afternoon turned night with Stephanie and Erin going from various neighborhood to neighborhood and ending up in bar called La Pomme d'Eve. I have as of lately spent my time reminiscing about certain girls once in my life, and trying not to think about how good it was to curl up with them and spyro and real coca-cola. But that's life, isn't it. You start to wonder whether or not you should obey instinct and because you miss this person, at least try to fix things even though on some level it is futile because there is the other voice telling you so. I don't know what to believe, maybe I will stop this missing business and not think about the feeling of walking into the humid apt to find them there like once it was. Pah.
no not really, the year is 2001 and i am wrapped up in trying to decipher the way things are and how people work, especially myself and why i do the things i do. barg. i have discovered a tape made of american tv so there are american commercials playing in this room despite the frenchness surrounding it.
tomorrow i go to america, how ironic. oh god irony needs to stop. i am so sick of all this stupid stupid stupid irony. hates then loves but only after all this other business and all along didn't know the things said about x and y OH of course i'm being cryptic. otherwise its all too obvious.
tonight stephanie was over for dinner and we discussed lies over her father's wine, which was good, and it all made so much sense. so much sad sense.
fabulous, not even a small word. not that i deserve a word. don't contradict me, i don't, you probably don't know so poop. POOP. bah. ok need to stop typing.
My desk is covered in a myriad of art supplies, dirty brushes, my first playskool watercolor set, dirty
water, photocopies, goldfish, dirty dirty dirty, sketchbooks, dirty. Miles Davis and the fishtank
are making noises, plus there is typing and the sound of me breathing and the computer noises.
That is all the news fit to print, just about. I am hunting like an undercover Diana with dogs for
a new apartment, probably which will end up as some sixth floor maid's room deep inside the
dirty dirty bowls of the city, but hopefully I will get to paint the walls and pass out from the fumes
of it all.
Official Church of Satan
Contact
flamin_k@hotmail.com
Linkage
Venus in Furs, Satan pour les femmes
(Yes as you can see I have nothing but satan on my mind)
Paris Fetiche
