Jan. 13th, 2010


Jan. 13th, 2010 02:11 am
slaughterhouse: misc: vampires & zombies & racoons (pete&brendon: otp love)
i was totally going to make a sensible post about real things, but i got distracted:


on a plane. wi-fi available. hope i'm dressed appropriately for the snow. snow what i'm sayin?
bden: snow way!
bden: you can all go to hail.
bden: alright, i think i'm done with the cheesy puns for a moment. thank you for your attention.
pete: @brendonuriesays when does our hang out begin?
bden: @petewentz eta is 10:10pm. hang out is anytime after eta. you ready?
bden: "these vagabond shoes. they're longing to stray. right through the very heart of it. New York, New York." - Ol' Blue Eyes
pete: @brendonuriesays bring it on part 1 and 2 (we only had songs in part 1) cheerlead me!
pete: just had late night dinner with @brendonuriesays and @thespencersmith

have i mentioned how i love them? (not in ages, actually.)
slaughterhouse: red converse (misc: red converse)
i'm sitting on a the green beanbag chair in my living room. in a little less than 24 hours, i hope to be sitting on a couch instead. my roommate is doing dishes in the kitchen, and there's a huge pan of fruit crisp in the oven. she talked out neighbour next door into going the grocery to buy vanilla ice cream, and then we will all sit around and eat it.

bill is staring at me. i'm reading stephen king's book, on writing, or have it sitting open in my lap, anyway.

life is peaceful and content. i should be in bed, but i'm not. tomorrow i'll take some books back to the library, and maybe pick up some new one. three of the graphic novels and one YA novel i have on hold have come in.

i just realized i haven't taken my meds today. i'm going to do that, i think, and then curl up in my chair with a blanket and finish the rest of my homework tomorrow.


slaughterhouse: misc: vampires & zombies & racoons (Default)


It is so short and jumbled and jangled, Sam, because there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds.
And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like, "Poo-tee-weet?"
- Kurt Vonnegut

Page Summary

Most Popular Tags

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags