sitting on my floor painting dinosaurs and "don't tax my fax" on our clothes. why he brought "the rules of attraction" i will never know, but i must go on record and say it was one of the worst movies ever. not for the presence of sex, drugs and suicide, but the fact that shitty dawson's creek and 7th heaven actors tried to make me believe they could pull off such acts. thumbs down and a smear of a virgin's blood on the film reel

i am going to crawl into the grave of marc bolan, afro wig and a jug of wine in hand, and curl up next to his bones and hum "cosmic dancer" until i am furiously yanked from my safe haven. anyone willing to film these events is welcome along for the ride

tommorow, unless some lovely miracle saves me, i have to return to my dad's house. i've been at my mom's for almost two months and such extended periods of time make for some of the rockiest transitions. i don't see how this time will be an exception, especially with the "current events." would anyone like to trade lives with me? mine comes with some very cool clothes.

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