your berlin wall
your fucking eggshell
Heroine chic - for which when you google you get this site [http://heroinechic.net/main.htm], with these pretty wallpapers of the buffster - [http://heroinechic.net/art/sheistheaslayer.jpg] [http://heroinechic.net/art/suspicion.jpg]
as your soul dances obliviously to freedom
heroine been what that suicide who wore a tatty old sweater on MTV Unplugged and covered leadbelly songs called horse, junk, skag, H etc. - from reading heavier than heaven, i seem to recall that was deliberate. not that I know much about drugs mind, they never managed to fit my moments of mittyesque self-invention quite as well as a bottle of JD or scotch. mind you, it could just be that i never found the right dealer.
its path cuts through me
what else has been holding my attention? i've been cutting up paper and gluing it back together. i shit you not.
this is what i'm paying $9000 AUD a semster for? well i'm not paying for it, but it's still doesn't seem entirely right. it's only one module, which allows me to ogle hot chicks at the arts faculty but still...of course, in the mid-nineties about 8000 pounds a year was been forked out for Uni tuition fees that taught me how to be a world-class drunk so, y'know, in comparison i guess i'm not doing that badly now.
the latest run of Sinfest approaches a level of cut close to the bone hilarity that manages to depress and entertain me at the same time. read the whole run, it is a truly wondorously funny thing.
and the blood that flows is not your own
something less funny is an email from my mother which concludes with the line that she's alone at home and 'what do you do when a DVD gets stuck in the notebook?'. this makes me feel melancholy to a degree that is epic even by my standards. i wish emotions towards parents would move from the resenting them stage to the 'they aren't so bad' stage, without the detour of a 'feeling sorry for them' stage. neither parties deserve that.
in birth, things get broken
