internal garrison
HOME
ARCHIVES
i create a new blog just about every 30 seconds....... and after another thirty seconds i kill it. when i find out where all the remorse i should have had for murdering those weblogs, i'll recollect those events into one tidy list of links. until then, this is the only easily accessible blog from me to dr. who.
20020125
the outlook:
+ redo my room. redecorate, refurbish.
+ play more video games.
+ read more books.
+ do more guitar
+ get institutionalized by the track season.
+ get the antidisestablishmentarianism back from tribes.
+ know myself more.
+ WRITE.
http://www.fhm.com > girls > zoomifiyer
it's very sexy.
20020115
today was seriously fucked up. let's just say that derek needs to be castrated, the sort of eye for an eye punishment.
20020114
time to do homework is fleeting, yet i'm still sitting here thinking of the best way to gain it all back. i should be playing blitzball, for the besaid aurochs, man!
i'll have my own template for this weblog, soon enough. [after the end of the semester] but until then, all your base are belong to us.
funny things can happen to you, in the strangest of ways. it's rather unhealthy to stress about age, but what happens when it knocks on your door, literally?
riddle me this: your mother is expecting an appointment with an insurance doctor to have her health readings analyzed for, well, insurance purposes. the agent comes three hours late, and you run into your room. you are uncomfortable around strangers in your home. you go out once or twice to spy the man in a living room mirror, and your view is obscured and blurred by another mirror reflecting its image through the one you're looking through directly. you see an old man, bald, discussing medical policies in a withered british accent with your mom. he leaves, and you never catch his face, but you do see the shine off of his bald head move ever so slowly up the steep flight of stairs that ascend from your front steps. he's drives away, and thus becomes distant for every mile he leaves his foot on his gas pedal.
boring story made interesting: the man that interviewed your mother was 101 years old.
my mom says the guy was a retired anesthesiologist. what i figure was, that he retired long before i was even born. and for my friends, that means most of you too. it's really not good for us to think about age, but it's still an interesting work of fate to contemplate in my own sixteen years of it.
i create a new blog just about every 30 seconds.......
