hoo haa
Can’t decide if this works, but o hai thur mister 羅莽!!! HKG represent, yo.
sometimes,
she hears the spidery man (not to be mistaken with a spider man) with the oversized spectacles from next door dragging things around in his room, kccch, kccch, thump.
Kccch, kcch, thump.
And she chooses to believe that he is not merely rearranging furniture (but really, who rearranges furniture at 3 am in the morning?) but is preparing his, in actuality, fifth corpse for embalming, or something.
Of course, issues such as homicide should never be thrown around lightly, but this comforting thought is the only thing tiding her through the banality of peeling parchment of wallpaper and yellowing textbook pages.
heartaches, for:
1. The Star Ferry, traversing the Victoria Harbour incessantly and utterly aimlessly.
2. The Special-K during breakfast at my best friend’s house and Mini Milton, her pony. And everything that comes part and parcel with these two memories.
3. Hallways ridden with dead butterflies and moist walls (okay seriously what the fuck was up with that?)
4. Singing O Canada in assemblies and watching Dudley the Dragon on YTV.
5. New York City. Fuck.
6. Christmas-movies-marathon with the twin in the Singapore hotel room.
7. All the things that used to be a given, but are now no longer.
8. Taking them for granted.
9. That perfect bretonstripes-ed top, that I know is mine, somewhere out there, waiting for our souls to collide. Mmm yes.
10. Food, because all I’ve had today is oatmeal, a bowl of “tamago soup”, and a dangerous amount of tea, the latter of which is making me suffer from not so much heartaches, but rather palpitations of the worrying variety. Miserable is the life of a poor college student low on mealpoints and spontaneous on tendencies to binge eat.
wednesdaywishes:
UN that I could be at the MoMA right now, for this.
DEUX that I owned a leopard print scarf, or a striped top of the Breton variety.
TROIS that I could teleport, to Hong Kong, right, now.
FIN.
Honestly, IDGAF.
A section of my paper on the role of The Female in the surrealist mind reads as follows:
and I remain unashamed. Dada Siegt!
Bah, Humbug.
Thanks, easybib. Way to not include manifestos (manifestoes?) in your sourcelist.WHAT KIND OF AUTOMATIC BIBLIOGRAPHY AND CITATION MAKER ARE YOU, ANYWAY? OBVIOUSLY A FAULTY ONE. BE GONE! You have let me down when I needed you the most.
Luscious Taste! Smart Choice!~
Hello. Today I would like to introduce all of you to the wonderful world of Almond Breeze. It is an “unsweetened vanilla non-dairy beverage” produced by Blue Diamond, and it tastes suspiciously, but pleasantly, like play-doh. I suspect, though, that the pleasantries involved in this ordeal merely stems from a certain ascetic achievement one derives from having consumed the whole carton in one sitting, as I (unfortunately) have, in my stress-addled state.
In pure Dada fashion, I then also had a chance encounter with an inspiring quote, which I took to be rather pertinent to the nonsensory that is life…prophetic, even:
” [Almond milk] can also be made at home by combining ground almonds with water in a blender…However, users should be cautious not to use bitter almonds, since the combination of bitter almonds and water releases cyanide.” –Wikipedia article, “Almond Milk”
cyanide.
cyanide.
cyanide.
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