Sunday, January 12, 2003

a dennis leary song

And goddamnit, I either want to punch you in the stomach or give you a big hug, and hear your chin bone bump against my shoulder bone. Bones bumping. Thump. Noises. And it's one or the other. And right now, I don't know. I went to school, drunk off expensive stolen wine, played a 1981 version of Trivial Pursuit before Bonnie decided she was bored and then there was dancing and a bunch of kids I hated dancing to bad music. Jay-Z. And it offended me. I didn't know what their reasons were but I considered them suspect., their reasons, considered them, the dancers, racist pigs, and I wanted to leave.

And I did and I am at home now on Bonnie's Mac eating String Cheese and too tired to go to bed, so writing here even though I have nothing to say and I am in no state to state coherently whatever it would be that I had to say. I still don't know what to do with myself. I know that I like cheese, people, and that I normally think that the world is all right and that I am going to make it. But other times when I read about stupid people, I have a very strong desire to punch these news characters in the gut, like Nelson, yelling ha ha as they fall. Ha ha in that obnoxious Nelson tone. I have to either do that. Do do do. Or channel it into some other outlet. But not supress it. That is bad. I would die. You fucking would, you asshole e o e o e o.

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