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Monday, May 12th, 2003

Subject:(!!!).Incoherence is absolute bliss.(!!!)
Time:8:00 am.
Mood:nervous..
Music:Weezer, DCFC.
I don't know how safe I am here, where all the girls look like models, and all the boys look like rockstars, and I'm struck stupid and stoned because I hold copyrights to creativity only in an isolated state. (-&it took a long time to figure that one out-)

So now I'm stuck in that cold place called 'average'. Or, at least, I fear that's where I'm headed. Because (-&god DAMNIT!-) my haircut isn't nearly as great as yours. Just tied up again. Just like me. Just tied up.

...but that's the very reason I avoid scissors &chemicals. I don't want to be all peroxide and silicon and pancake makeup (-or do I?-), because then I'm going to be just like you.

Damnit, one way or another, I'm always just like you (-&this is an open letter to no one, for those who care, ie: nobody-)

...all this over a haircut I'm jealous of! Ha! Yeah, in the end I'm just a teenage girl...

Listening to old-skool Weezer. Damn. They were pretty bloody good. Shame that now they suck. What cd is 'El Scorcho' on?...'cause I'm gonna buy it today. Pinkerton... maybe.

Eh.

I am way too fucking good for this place. I swear. I'm gonna run away. Only, not really. 'cause I kind of like it here. Where I'm too good for everyone. It's a bit of an ego boast.

Chip away at this ego, you bastards. Oh, just fucking try. I don't care. Don't care-don't care-don't care!!!! Hands over my ears, pillows over my ears, headphones on, &I'm just not listening anymore. I'm turning the volume up louder. Befriending schizophrenia.

Yeah, everythings going just like I'd hoped. &the melt down comes in an hour.

Gotta get dressed. eye doctor appointment. (ahh!) Oh, yeah, this is gonna go over fuckin' GREAT...

Then it's on to the record store. Then the mall - if!! - Layna gets out of bed.

Khaki cords &black tank tops. Jean jackets and black eyeliner. Greasy hair. Fuckin' rock.

Girl overboard. Jumping ship, 'cause the pier's on fire.....................

(.....they bottled the happiness for me in white plastic. Why didn't I take those pretty little green pills???.....)

...and i'm not cold, mum. I just can't miss someone I never knew to begin with. &I think I might've hated him. &some people are just better off in ashes. Something like that. Sorry.

so let's end things with Death Cab For Cutie lyrics.

"Styrofoam Plates"

there's a saltwater film on the jar of your ashes: i threw them to sea but a gust blew them backwards and the sting in my eyes
that you then inflicted was par for the course just as when you were living.

it's no stretch to say you were not quite a father but a donor of seeds to a poor single mother that would raise us alone. we never saw the money that went down your throat
through the hole in your belly.

thirteen years old in the suburbs of denver
standing in line for Thanksgiving dinner at the catholic chuch. the servers wore crosses
to shield from the sufferance plauging the others. styrofoam plates, cafateria tables charity reeks of cheap wine and pity
and i'm thinking of you. i do every year
when we count all our blessings
and wonder what we're doing here.

YOU'RE A DISGRACE TO THE CONCEPT OF FAMILY
THE PRIEST WON'T DIVULGE THAT FACT IN HIS HOMILY AND I'LL STAND UP AND SCREAM
IF THE MOURNING REMAIN QUIET, YOU CAN DECK OUT A LIE IN A SUIT BUT I WON'T BUY IT.
I WON'T JOIN IN THE PROCESSION THAT'S SPEAKING THEIR PIECE USING FIVE DOLLAR WORDS WHILE PRAISING THIS INTEGRITY
AND JUST 'CAUSE HE'S GONE IT DOESN'T CHANGE THE FACT: HE WAS A BASTARD IN LIFE THUS A BASTARD IN DEATH.


....so take that.
-maddie.
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Blurty for !!@#$%^&*___(all the fucking rage)___*&^%$#@!!.

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