::[Artists & Who Not]:: Dali, Miyazaki, Amedeo Pace, Syd Barret, Amon Tobin
::[Actors]:: John Cusack, Winona Ryder, Gregory Peck, Franka Potente
::[En Particular]:: My love, My Melody, Moonstones, Domo-Kun, All things Japanese, Oscar Peterson, Vintage crap, Records, Cigarettes, The moon, Pizza Rolls, Sakuras, Springtime in Kintai, Transcendence
[::..If I could I would..::]
Fly, model model t fords (import style), move to random places with no abandon.
Short term memory (if there is such a thing) is composed of 5 units, plus or minus two. Hence, to make a funny, lists have to be 4 or less, preferably 3. Any more would allow previous information to be displaced, taking away from the humor.
:: Thursday, November 13, 2003 ::
And now, a poem...
I had a dream last night... you were there.
I want to stab you in the fuckin throat
Your bloody stubs dripped madly to the floor,
but still you kept coming you psycho bastard.
I told you to leave me be, or else I would fuckin kill you
and I cried to be saved, but he faultered, the pussy.
Finially he came and pried you off, but not after I kept cutting off your fingers.
But still you came after me and I fuckin hate you.
I wish I didn't back away and cry to be saved.
I wish I stabbed you in your ugly eye with a rusty poker.
Too bad I can't lucid dream, or you'd be fuct up right now you ugly, sub human excuse for a person.
You are nothing but pure evil in its most tainted form (an oxymoron only you can attain)
I wasn't brave, for I cowered in your presence.
But if it was in the here and now, I'd tower over you like a succubus on her menstrual cycle: hella pissed
Too bad I can't lucid dream, or you'd be fuct up right now you ugly sub human excuse for a person.
:: Larah 12:11 PM [+] | ::
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