Monday, December 13, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
my little brother has started working at starbucks too but he's having trouble. it's quite funny that i'm working there actually. it kinda defies things i believe in. sigh.. oh wells, its at least providing funding for my graduate schooling. i'm not sure what i want to do yet though.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Jailbird - Jane Lui
She's an amazing singer. The first song I heard by her was a cover of Just The Way You Are, the original by Bruno Mars. It was incredible and so I searched. I found her website through a slew of websites so I won't bother because if I did, just imagine how many words that'd take! I shudder- I dare not imagine.
oh welly boots, enjoy!
Hi, my name is Bridget Jeanne. I just turned 18 last month. According to the local legal system, I am legal and I can buy alcohol and cigarettesn as much as I would like and watch M18 movies. I am really pleased about expanding my film horizon. Once upon a time, I did look forward to drinking alcohol. You see, I didn’t really like myself or what I did (to be honest, what I hadn’t done) and so I thought alcohol was the solution to all my problems. I would drink and all my inhibitions would fall apart and finally, I would be a free woman but alas, things aren’t always as they seem. The first time I drank, I turned very red and my face let out a funny warm feeling. It wasn’t bad but it good either. The second time was after a rehersal for a production, I didn’t do very well that day and I was down so I went to the stupid 7-11 at the station and bought a can of Japanese peach liquor that only contained a neglible amount of alcohol. My face turned red within minutes and I felt completely sober at the end of the can. I rode home, my dad driving the car. Once my dad had dropped my friend off at her house, I slept like I hadn’t slept in months- no, years. I suffer from terrible, terrible spouts of insomnia. Anyway as I was saying, I slept really deeply. I reached hope, dwasn’tragged myself to my bed only half-awake and collasped on the bed without showering or even changing my clothes- something I did for the first time. I awoke in a daze at 3 in the morning, rolled on the floor because I felt like barfing and I don’t like the feeling of barfing and the icy cold sensation of the floor always made that feeling better and in more cases than one, put the idea off from my stomach. Ever since then, I have ingrained into my brain that alcohol in asians equals to redness on the face, a funny warm sensation and barfing. It does nothing good to those without the stupid enzyme, the one that breaks down the stupid ethanol quick enough. Basically, the moral of the story is that alcohol doesn’t solve your problems because you are still stupidly sober at the end of the day.Smoking? I could never be bothered. I didn’t want to die of lung cancer, golly gee, no way. Though I did have a dream about smoking and liking it but this only heightened my fear of cigarettes and the second-hand smoke.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
now, i'm trying to cram a paper of fox network for comm class on monday, 20% of my grade. oh golly gee, this is going to kill me. i think i'm ill already!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
My name is Qwerty Uiop. I live in a box. The box my home is made of five squares of bricks. The northward square commonly known as a wall holds a frosted window lined with cockroaches. It has a square of caterpillar cocoons in the middle. The curtains are half finished- the silkworms have yet to finish their work, slow aren’t they? I sit on the wooden chair, splinters poking out from everywhere possible that it is amazing that in the mouse years I have lived in this box, I have never once needed to take out a splint from my skin. All my furniture was and is the like.
In the mouse years I have lived in this box, I have departed my home at exactly 7 every Saturday to go to the market to get food. It is a tradition. I help the shopkeeper to persuade people to buy more of their things and I get some food and living supplies in return. A cheery bunch the people, persons who buy things.
When I return several hours later, I place sheets of pressed paper on the rectangular table and remove a box of paints and set of paint brushes.
i'm thinking of continuing this piece. hmm...
and so teacher, missus wee tells us to write a bad piece of work,
I am a cockroach in a tall boy’s hair and I attempt to crawl into his butt crack. In a house ten miles away, an old man is pouring water, Mr Nickelson, his house is rusty and old, well just like him, he is old, but I am young and alive until the tall boy sits down where I will be crushed and dead while Mr Nickelson lives on? This is incredulous not to mention ridiculous. In matters of sausages and eggs, I will be nothing but a flattened grotesque crunchy piece of bug meat while Mr Nickelson in Street 11 of Howdrewell Drive carries on living his –oh please don’t make me say it, old life eating ham and cheese.
missus wee's interpreted advice at the end? To write badly is to not think and just write, type, the works.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
it is march fifth
i am in a cave. i am in my cave. it is a cave big enough for me yet not too big that a human can enter while i sleep. it is dark but there is a small light at the end. those pea humans venture ever only so far, at most five feet from the light before they disappear back into the light. it is certainly most amusing. but after the same thing happens one too many times, sleep overcomes and i surrender.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Before I write. I must read. It is such a pain, such a drag. I do not want to read, I want to write. Wait, maybe I want neither but i am still pained and care, i do not.
Give me some paper and a pen I demand!
I sit down ready to write but then I begin to stare aimlessly into the blank paper. They are no words or markings of any sort! How am I supposed to write like this?
My thoughts are playing with hoola hoops in my head. They aren’t being very helpful and it is frustrating me to no end.
I need to write something! I must go somewhere! There is words choking me. It is quite soon and I lose my voice too.
All of us, all of we, all of more than one are so desperate to get some where, get our name out there.
My focus is lost and I throw my hands up in the air. My head hits the desk.
Let’s face it. We’ve reached a dead-end.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
my matte gakkenflex photos.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Dear Mr. Draco Malfoy,It is with great regret that we have to inform you of the passing of your pet snake, Pansy Parkinson. She served greatly in battle arms in arms with her fellow men displaying a suicidal bravery one has never witnessed before. It is a great loss to our platoon that she can no longer fight against the nasty men in silver and green. It seemed that her dimwittedness has transgressed to an incurable degree and was certainly without a doubt mentally incapable of fighting another logical fight (not that she ever fought one of such in the first place) but she insisted on dying for your pitiful pride.My companions who fought along with the saddened state of a troll (I am still perplexed as to why you call it a snake when the sight of it is far too vomit-inducing) said she certainly had a voracious appetite for anything orange and brown resembling a lion even slightly.I send my deepest apologies and would encourage you to take all of what I said to heart, proceed to cry your heart out drowning in tissues and have a good night rest.Yours truly,DA presidentHarry James Potter