I hate my father. And I hate pomposity. And I hate the word "hate", what with its over-simplified implications. I hate grammar. And I hate lunch meat (especially bologna). I hate people who can eat chili dogs and wear spandex (simultaneously) and still look good. I hate the smell of formaldehyde and the feel of construction paper on your fingers right after you get out of the shower. And I hate my father.
How are you?
Today I skinned a cat. That was fun until Jeff started splashing me with the residues of his blunt probe. Cursed properties of fluids.
In Utero is actually going to be published. Granted, it's on the school's online publication thing that will never get viewed by anyone. Ever. The internet is for porn. Not for the fruitless dreams of aspiring hormone bombs seeking gratification for their "talent". Bahumbug.
More when my brain starts working again.
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