Journal: and counting -------------------------------------------
Mood: Que Sera Que Sera
it's funny how the smallest things give us the benediction that we need, I haven't even thought of this website for years much less actually logged in. [good thing I used the same password for everything back then]
I am now 20 years old, I happen to still be 5'6" and tho my body hasn't changed that much a lot has happened since I made this account at 14. It's staggering to even think that this page has stayed here, almost waiting for me to come back and delete/edit/renew/??? it. Looking back on my work archived here I'm still the same person it seems I just see things a little differently.
but what is time if not a constantly expanding window?
hey, how are you?
i wanted to ask you to remind me to comment on one of your poems i just read later today. this may seem odd, but i dot have time to comment now and i want to be able to find you later. thanx.
Ewwwww..... LOVE everywhere *swinging her arms, beating down the heart-shaped gnats buzzing all over your page, spitting them out as they fly in her mouth all crazy-happy and dratty pink*
What I came here to SAY was... Don't those people annoy you? You stand there, waiting... looking up that long really hurts your neck!, and they just hang there, waiting for a bigger audience. There was a jumper story that I LOVE, southern of course, the guy picks a parking garage outside a hotel with a big convention of some kind going on, out-of-towners horrified that they're going to see Mr. Homeless splat, and the news media comes, and he stands them off on the top level, and demands? A bag of McDonalds, of course. (Hey, he's Homeless, that should tell you that this is going to be an interesting stand-off of possible schizophrenic brilliant proportions.) He then negotiates the bag location, cuz they're not going to give him the bag until he comes down, and he wants his McDonalds bag AND his media attention, so no, he won't come down. So the cops there open the bag and eat the french fries and all of the food in front of him, taunting him how good it all is and to come down and have some, further setting him off to pace around and put on a show. After about 2.5 hours of this b.s., they figure he's not going to jump, and obviously their necks hurt, so they pack up their cameras and leave. The horrified conventioneers have lost interest now and are back to their meeting with the shades down, no longer watching, and the sack of food is eaten. Mr. Homeless accomplished nothing. So, he agrees to have a cop come up to talk to him, to "further negotiations" and when the cop gets up there and advances on him, he gets on the edge threatening to jump, and the cop pushes him off. He falls a WHOPPING 4 stories, crashing into a bush below that breaks only a few of his bones and he's arrested for multiple things. He never gets the McDonalds, either.
What is the point to all this? Oh yeah... That jumpers are a real pain in the neck :)