Elementary, my dear

I bring you this post from the joys of...guess what? Math class. You might be wondering at this moment, how can I post from a computer in the middle of math? Well, elementary my dear. Literally. Because it's the last day before Thanksgiving break, guess what? We're watching....School House Rock. Beautiful. I haven't seen this beloved thing in soooo fucking long. Remember the ol, "Three is a magic number"? Well yeah. That's what I get to be fed during this class. Joy.
There is some hope for my consciousness however, Eva recently got this awesome new apple laptop, and therefor has brought it to school any chance she's gotten. Plus, once hooked up to the school WiFi network, no matter how slow, I am able to bring this post to my caring public. The thing's got a sweet keypad too. It's heavenly. I myself feel blessed, just from typing upon it's keys.
Oh dang. "I Got Six" is coming on. Till then...

I got six
You got six
You got six
We've got eighteen!
{I Got Six, School House Rock}

I like cold.

I love the cold. This is the season where you get to were completely unconventional outfits, every inch covered by a mitten, hat, or scarf. For shopping lovers, a drastic change of season is an excuse for new wardrobes, closets pilled high with fuzzy boots and sweaters. Cold also inspires love, melts anxious fears. It's easier to huddle close to, touch, or hug people in cold. Nobody minds, nobody cares. No one is suspicious as to why you bother to hug them so much. It's all for the sake of warmth, they say. Drinks get better in cold. Hot drinks, to be specific. Who wants hot chocolate or cocoa in Summer by the pool? Uh, nobody! Cold is the very best season for it. During cold you can often become an artist, sculping simple snowangels in the earth or chipping away at ice. Cold is also the very time to become a Warrior. The colour scheme makes sneaking quite difficult, but most can enjoy the sport of head-on contact. Cold is the time for poetry. Robert Frost, anyone?

I heard it's cold out
But her popsicle melts
She's in the bathroom
She pleasures herself.
{These Things, She Wants Revenge}

I'll sit beneath your window
Carving hearts out of soap
Flawless shards gather slowly
Swiss Army Art
Toothpick hopes

superman!

I've been noticing a lot of things lately. It's actually quite weird. I thought that crazy weekend parties were supposed to put you in a dizzy, sleep-until-you-rot state of head. When actually, I stayed up thinking about bridges. And poems. And how I can't write poems. And hobos. How I would like to be a hobo. And tongues. How tongues are bridges between two gates, two mouths. Then I started wondering why the hell I was thinking about tongues, and prolly sounding retarded. So I thought about Superman.
There seems to be a Superman in every occasion. And, believe it or not, overtime it's been heavily researched and found that Superman is a dumbass. Maybe not completely, but has a half that is. I bet that's the evil Superman. The pothead Superman. The dumbshit.

Cause look. There's the one guy that runs around town in underwear and spandex, using powers and luck to save his friends from doom. And everyone has BEEN that Superman time and time again. I have, you have, he has, she has. We call our friends to save them from boredom, we diet with friends so they can't get fat, we massage-therapy friends to make them feel happy.

Then there comes retard Superman. Running around in a hoodie and some pajama pants, smoking a joint and getting kicked out of houses. Retard Superman may still save people, on occasion, but only after getting them in the deep shit first. Like the other Superman, we have been this one too. I have, you have, he has, she has. We prank our friends and use up all their minutes leaving weird incoherent messages, we buy our dieting friends a buttload of donuts, we try to fix situations by lieing and jumping out windows, we swear at passing dogs, and burn our Grandmother's cookies.

All of these incidents done by retard Superman may be intentional or not, but are all equally, and undeniably, stupid. But hey, don't worry about which one you are. We're both. And it switches. Sometimes Super Superman flunks, while Retard Superman prevails. Life is a flipcoin. Eat it up.

"Everyone is a moon,
and has a dark side which he never shows
To anybody."

What is your problem?

I've just stumbled across a strange blog. Fallen, by SilverEssence or something. The blog is held up by a strange site called "Mystic Emotion" or mysticemotion.com. This whole blog is filled with blood dipped poetry and humor, embroidered by a flourish of over-exaggerated emotion and suffering. I honestly cannot tell if this is a very amuzing book, or just someone writing in a gothic blog. For this one, I'll title it gothic blog.
Gothic blogs, or livejournals are interesting to me. Usually well-written, but in the end, characteristically pointless. You write about your suffering, your pain, your emotions. I mean, you really try to bleed all the shit out into one prolific peice of emo. Just to tell everybody. But in the end, there is no matter. There is no change. You do not gain anything.
Maybe some people just need to talk.

Ittalics bore the paper
A catchfrase seen too much
It's not that nothing isn't worth it
But the statement was a crutch.

Twitchy the Bipolar toaster

Twitchy, the Bipolar toaster, has died. After at least a year of living in Yaba's kitchen, we began to see the symtoms.

Math is too long. Math is too annoying. I've been in a foggy funk all week, and now I have math. Ew.

twirls
throws up
and
runs away

Straight out of everything/How the nightmare has it

Dreaming to sleep
and
Sleeping to dream
The world's all in
My mind fell out
Straight out of everything

At least that''s how the nightmare has it

But I never knew
Who the people were
I never knew them well
Just faces in photographs
Not much story to tell

I couldn't believe just what I'd seen
Who knew that eyes could lie?
I swear, I hope I'm just dreaming
I'm still yours, as you're still mine.

At least that's how the nightmare has it

Dreaming to sleep
and
Waking to scream
The world's all in
My mind fell out
Straight out of everything.

Some might say I'm cynical.

I have came to the conclusion that people are too smart. Being humans. We're too smart. I mean, we've actually reached the unevitable point of smartness. The unreachable goal. But we made it. You know what it is? It's where we get SO smart, that we decide that we're done for being smart. Just plain done. Completely finished. So then, we get stupid. Incredibly stupid. There's is a point, where we get so sharp, that we're like, "You know what? No. Just no. Not cuttin' it for me. Computer science? Same sex rights? Naw, don't wanna talk 'bout THAT. Hey? What was that idea you had about rocks and sticks Jim? Oh yeah, rocks and sticks..." and I believe it's great. Totally hardcore. Awesome. I mean, seriously? When did things have to start making sense? That's just plain boring. Bring out the dancing tubas, the scarves. This isn't a country, this is ENTERTAINMENT, people!

'at least that's how the nightmare has it.'

Birds and broken chimes.

Teach me a lesson
I'd love to learn
My head's as empty as a shell
It's all filled with birds

I often like to dream I like to often dream
I often like to dream I dream often and I like it
I often like to dream I like to often dream
I often like to dream I dream often and I love it

The birds are red, the birds are blue
I'm part of this ocean, and so are you
This ocean we call thought
Is filled with birds
No time for space, no space for time
Just room for words, and broken chimes
Just room for words and broken chimes

Oh and I had loved you like you did too
I had loved you, sweet love too.
I had dreamed about the days
Where we'd just sit and think all day

I often like to dream I like to often dream
I often like to dream I dream often and I like it
I often like to scream I like to often scream
I often like to dream I dream often, and I like it
Yeah well I like it.

I loved you like I could
Held you tight in my hands
But you slipped through them
Fell out like sand
And sand isn't easy to pick up that well
I grabbed three grains before the wind came
And my heart fell
And my heart fell
And my heart fell
And my heart fell
And my heart fell
And my heart fell
And my heart fell
And my heart fell

The birds are red, the birds are blue
I'm part of this ocean, and so are you
This ocean we call thought
Is filled with birds
No time for space, no time for words
Just loving what I've lost, and losing what I've heard
(What I've heard.)

My sweetness is stupid.

Me:
i'm ever so saad

8:59 PM Gålen: ?

me: my stomach really hurts

9:00 PM Gålen: my tummy hurts too

9:01 PM me: let our tummies weep together

Take that, second step! TRUE friendship there! HA!

All my thoughts are witches

A ghostly mist hung in the air
Sailors, Pirates
I do declare
What a crazy night for me!
What a crazy night for we!
So wipe the sea spit off your lips
And paint your teeth pure green
Come on my darlings
Don't be late
For tonight, it's Halloween.