Only ruins understand me! Lovecraft keeps the blood in my veins.
Now I know why he's my favorite author.
He was schizophrenic.
Only ruins understand me! Lovecraft keeps the blood in my veins.
Now I know why he's my favorite author.
He was schizophrenic.
Yes, let's go into an uncharted nebula because some babe with a funny head says she needs help, as her ship was wrecked there. She's not part of Starfleet. He's never seen her species before either, a random alien from the universe.
So sad.
Let's do it, the captain said.
What a buddy.
Looney Tunes.
I managed to get to the library for a few hours. I mostly read an old YA novel called Children of the Sun by Barabra Wood. I can't relate as well, no more princes, but I enjoy her attention of the subject and how she writes. It's like visiting an old friend.
It made me laugh at the part where the main character tells the soldiers she is there to be with a ruling Lord to soothe his heart. I'm sure they laughed and made a prostitution joke, but the joke is opaque in the novel. I got one, too. I guess even they had problems with that happening to young virgins and maidens who lose their heads, an "either/or" action. Do you accept your little gift, Durov? Durov is always down, and he'll impregnate them. I'm a fan.
Back here... Damn extremists. Cock blockers.
Let it be purity--causes sickness, the measure of a man, the worth of a woman.
I played with a butterfly, a beautiful orange and black one or a strange leaf. Nature wears the best costumes. After a few seconds, he flew off, never will we meet again, but we shared a moment.
I purchased a pair of shoes around Christmas. They were supposed to be machine washable, but they look horrible, and the woman in the bank asked me if I have another pair because her sister gave her a bunch. Not interested. I do. These are comfortable and if I think it's going to rain, they go on because they already show their sins. They do freshen up, but that is all. They do not wash off in the washing machine, they get dirty easily, and overall, have not aged well.
Like my face.
But I had fun outside.
I best not move to South Korea.
I watched a program about models early today. The woman at around 700 calories a day, and she was tall with blonde hair, naturally, blonde hair. She worked out to get killer abs but was weak, and this confused me. Beauty is sometimes a curse. I equate models as a sport due to all it takes.
Well, I am fat. I got into trouble for going over the counter. I was not blamed for a mishap today as I was gone learning about Virgil. I'm just known to do it at night. I decided to eat a bigger dinner so that there would be no need to snack. I've lost control in this realm of life: my weight and appearance. I don't have the social pressure I used to.
Belly doesn't look so good.
They say nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, but this woman on TV enjoyed spending a day eating like a body builder, and he ate like her and far from satisfied. In the end, she consumed more calories than usual and perked up. I hope she didn't puke.
And what an afterlife? Models don't make tons of money. When they time out, there's no work for them. What do you become after a supermodel? An old face to hate? A mother who pushed you too far? Guys who didn't love you after 30?
I like potato chips with sour cream. I like to sit on the couch, gross but comfy, and watch the "Carol Brunette Show." Most TV sucks these days.
And get off my lawn :P