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August 18, 2004 - 7:28 p.m. my corrupting influence ash on fingers trickling down, ideas filtered noted, annotated. i like to make lists. all the things you've ever said, taken down in my brain boxed and ready to be dusted and turned over. new leaves "make your plan and execute"- my horoscope says... "go ahead try to figure out what my future looks like" (ts) ***** message from an Australian boy: "Well, I was gonna work at home today but now due to your corrupting influence I might spend it sending messages to hot girls on the internet. My contribution to the Australian economy will be seriously weakened, an it's all your fault! Mark well! Even now I am preparing an explanatory note for my tax return in which you are mentioned by name an other assorted information from your profile but you know they are kinda straightlaced at the tax office so I'm just gonna tell them your favourite books include "c*nt by inga muscio". hopefully they will understand what I'm getting at an all will be well. la la la: to quote Kylie Minogue An have you heard the fiery furnaces? I reckon if you like both modest mouse an the pixies you'd like them. Me I just discovered AC Newman: power pop bliss. ok now as threatened I will do some work. The world being round an all you are probably asleep now but if you get tired of messaging hot girls and wanna message reasonably good-looking Australian drummers instead (an who wouldn't jump at the chance to make that switch? no-one, that's who! well, no-one in their right minds anyways). **** the sky's growing gray, and wreck'd is a term for days past. passed and passing, like long gone things, fossils, cause you can still see them... and you know nothing really ever leaves... . colder. chilled emotions, some things never freeze. like vodka. ...like the things induced by it. and all that's waiting to thaw. those things preserved indefinitely because you're not sure if it's gone bad, or your just not hungry anymore the glass shatters, and the liquid is all that remains. sticky fingers, stained lips and some pictures...
freezer's getting full. that's what it means to be saved. i filter these thoughts, words that are all saved in sequence... "like sands through the hour glass" these are moments all coloured with nostalgic kitsch. images too, 16 milimetre and otherwise flit across the whites of eyes closed to hold quiet private screenings where i remember everything
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