Friday, June 07, 2002

testing: does this commenting thing work?

Thursday, June 06, 2002

Jeremy proving that he has far too much time on his hands at work, has run the last few days of my journal through some ultra crazy translations website, trimmed it a bit, and added line breaks to turn it into a poem.

For reasons we cannot comprehend, the translating turned my blood into alcohol. Jeremy insists this is some form of minor miracle.

Here's the poem:

Nonbad grass, I the virgin, who does not kill the virgin.
It is not the song, of that who we who sing,
slaughters of the virgin!
The poetry, of that gives return today:

It decided this fine week to the wars of the star of palisade,
because George Lucas is a defective man.
And indicated Bastarddeaf one was.

Why I know this? Why I know exactly this?

Ugh. Goddess is exhausted sufficiently very
for the ascent of the base
for the fine week.
I think, because I lost three which alcohol approximately
I paints the end to ruin
to decree not to indicate,
on the cloth of the bath
and slight whole black of the silk of the order.


Unhappily this means I again to the work.
Great excuses of and with my old friend of the university of
(previous-small friend of ahem he...)
Grant to lack to the relative connection!
They appreciate, expensive!

Day: It knows his parts appropriate of sex.
On the other hand this admits for the work
would be delayed tomorrow
like my proprietor (seriously pure he),
because I have an appointment of the attention with my doctor.

The fact asked to me that which it was incorrect,
therefore I that has said.
"Oh, stopped of the hopes right."

Examinación of fêz
of the preparations for the surface and fiancé,
to the interior for the drinks of the alcoholic one.
I do not have a plant.
With oxygen and the beauty the end to give the form some.

If in a monkey the end invests I?
Or an aquarium totally of seahorses?
Or they are a person of the tail?

I imagine that a person of the tail could be.

Wednesday, June 05, 2002





You have high standards for yourself, and try desperately to live up to them. But when you are unable to reach those goals, you fall into a deep depression. People see you as a brilliant person, yet inside, you are full of self-doubt and fear of failure. You need to set more reasonable goals.


Your song is: About to Crash

Which degree of inner turbulence are you?

This quiz was made by Dionae





Finally, one I can live with.
I will not kill the virgin



I will not kill the virgin.



This is the song that we all sing,



I will not kill the virgin!




Feeling much better today, thanks. The poetry that turns me on today: the Latin names of houseplants.
Spathiphyllum. Mmmmm. Aspidistra.


This weekend, I have decided to picket Star Wars, for George Lucas is an evil man. And Dumb Bastard said he was going. Why do I know this? Why do I even know this?

Monday, June 03, 2002

Ugh. Have been pretty much laid up in bed for the weekend. I feel like I lost about three pints of blood, not to mention ruining two bath towels and a set of black silk sheets.

Fortunately, though, things have righted themselves without any kind of surgery or other manhandling. Unfortunately, that means I'm back at work.

And big apologies to my old college friend (ahem... ex-boyfriend) Grant for missing his wedding! Love you, dear! Congratulations!