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2002-08-11 - 3:16 a.m.

stuffing the napkin in my bag. forget about it so these are the last days of living in this town. i don�t want to go home to all my belongings all packed up in boxes. the geometry of a new place. i cross my fingers. not many cowboys around here�

i just kicked a guy in the balls. god that feels good. maybe i need to sleep. maybe i need to eat.

sometimes people look at you with complete puzzlement. in the eyes. the way nobody understands. the difference is i don�t need you to look at me and tell me you know exactly how that feels because you don�t. you never will. you�ll never feel this much. you�ll never feel this deeply. never this sincerely. and it doesn�t bother me.

everyone knows that 151 is evil. everyone everyone knows this. so why did i drink it anyway? i have no clue. and my throat burns. and my throat is angry. there are other angry things. but they don�t speak so much anymore. only when provoked. lets not talk about this tomorrow, ok? goodnight lamb. sweet dreams.

baah