d a r k s i d e

This pleases me very much:

the boys i mean are not refined - e. e. cummings

the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a fuck for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night

one hangs a hat upon her tit
one carves a cross on her behind
they do not give a shit for wit
the boys i mean are not refined

they come with girls who bite and buck
who cannot read and cannot write
who laugh like they would fall apart
and masturbate with dynamite

the boys i mean are not refined
they cannot chat of that and this
they do not give a fart for art
they kill like you would take a piss

they speak whatever's on their mind
they do whatever's in their pants
the boys i mean are not refined
they shake the mountains when they dance

I don't know why. I stole it from Magin's Xanga.

I had a billion weird memories today, but can only remember one:

Once I was going to sligo creek with my grandparents, and there was a man talking on a cell phone, and he was using a head set. This was very obvious to me, but my grandpa didn't see it, and the man was talking kinda loud, telling the person on the other line where he was, so my grandpa though he was a little off in the head, and though he was talking to him, and he started nodding, and talking to the man, in that way you talk to a child or really crazy person (but shouldn't, I believe) and the man says "excuse me, I'm on the phone" and my granpa has like this revelation and we go to the park.

Today we played a really tough game of capture the flag, on the courtyard, and I fell and tried to roll out of it, but I hit my head on the concrete a little, but I was fine. I ended up tagging like, 3 people right after that.

I really hate PE. I hate sports, but when forced to play them I get really into them and make a fool of myself, because most of the time I don't even know the rules of the game. And I get violent. I'm always afraid I'll hurt someone. I personally really don't care about getting hurt too much. Like just today, fall, smack head and elbow on pavement, get up, tag people. Or, you know, I'm running barefoot on the field, I get a 1/4 inch deep gash in my foot, I put on shoes, I keep running. Madness. I don't know why I do it.

We are reading The Catcher in the Rye in english, and I REALLY like it. Just the way Holden Caulfield thinks, the way he talks, it reminds me of me so much. Like, I read the book, and I imagine what he looks like, and it's me, with short hair and no glasses.

Argh I had a really great memory, better than the cell phone guy, but it left me. And I can't remember it. I think it started, once when I was little YES I REMEMBER!:

When I was little I had those footie pajamas, and I would put only my arms in, so it was flapping behind me, and I would pretend to be the blue ranger. I'd reather have been the green ranger, but my pjs were blue.

Ok, that wasn't so great, but at least I succeded in remembering it.

I'm thinking about not putting the commments back...comment if you object. OH WAIT! YOU CAN'T!!! MUAHAHAHAH!!!! This is liberating. That reminds me of a quote - "Liberate yourself from my viselike grip." - The Catcher in the Rye. Another (this is not exact) - "That's the thing about money. It only ends up making you blue as hell." Yes, I know.

OK, that's enough, now.

0 comments