shared thoughts and bodily fluids

one flew over the

whatever

I went to work and groomed dogs and my manager is a bitch as much as she is a chick who wants to be my friend a lot and always always always wants to fucking hang out and often I lie to her so I don’t have to.

am I a bad person? not like I care. which makes me worse.

god damn fucking shit what makes me sick also makes me wet.

She told me today that I should consider trying to become manager of the salon when she leaves in a few months. I said yes thank you I would like that and she said she’d give me some manager module bullshit or something.

I think I should name my child Shameless.

god damn I don’t want to talk about work. everyone talks about work cause that eight fucking hours of your day that you spend doing something you hate or something you love, or in my case, someing that I’ve become sort of fond of. you get up and work all day and come home and school yourself and talk about work and eat and spend money and drink water, cause that’s all I ever drink besides liquor and beer and oppropriate mixers. this is all important for the test tomorrow. pencils up then down and write something good in-between.

speaking of writing, I had creative writing last night. here is the poem I wrote for the class which I have chosen to post for two reasons, well maybe three.

1. I tend to lose things and if it’s in my tee oh dee there is no way of losing it unless the website crashes which is entirely possible considering all the fucking HTTP enternal server errors or whateverthefuck.
2. The girlfriend liked it a whole lot and encouraged me to share.
3. feedback from my two noters is never a bad thing.

I wrote the first two stanzas of this poem about a year ago, in fact I might have posted it here, I finished the poem before class. and go.

sleep sound

sleep sound for you are married
swindled sweet into my bed
the tapping crows upon the awning
are silent to your sleeping head
sleep sound for you are married
marked at night by a silent scene
the pillow masks your cheek bones caring
and when morning comes your eyes will steam
sleep sound the sofa’s burning
the flames crawl tight around your rest
the heat of orange can help the curling
of the withered hairs upon your chest
sleep sound after your screams of scorching
from a fallen match upon the quilt
a frozen love this fire’s torching
and your eternal slumber I have built

also I love crackers.

hahahhahahahhahahfjlbo;gjbntjnsuhisdnyisbinfdsok

all I can write is tragedy and when I try something different I laugh and laugh at it cause its sappy ass bullshit like that angel show that used to be on CBS.

I havent read it aloud. maybe I will. maybe I will not. When you DO turn something in, he makes a copy of it for everyone in the class to read. I have pages of fabulous works from classmates. or, not fabulous, but shitty.and perhaps, for the sake of breaking down other people’s bullshit to make myself feel better, here is a portion of Katie Jameson’s poem:

her eyes are bright as the ocean
the water pours quickly out of them
looking ahead and seeing nothing
tasting the salt as it runs down her face

insert more of poem here.. and the end goes:

Miss Kitty was sure that she knew what to do
and what tomorrow would bring
the poison heart hung around my neck
I’ll pretend not to notice it’s there
CARPE DIEM!- I cry
as the pixie kisses the sky
and the cold wind blows through the dead, still trees

this poem made absolutely no sense. who the fuck is Miss Kitty? and since when is the ocean “bright”? and what is a pixie and what does it mean for it to “kiss the sky” and why is she seizing the day? after she finished reading the poem one kid said “uhhh… after she said Miss Kitty I thought it was about a hooker” and yes, I laughed.

I just can’t stop being that cliche cynic now can I? no, jaime, you fucking fuck you cant and you know what else you cant do? you cant write for a living the same as these kids cant so get out of that class and off this diary and go to apollo college for massage therapy.

I really liked your poem. I suck at writing poems, but Im awesome at appreciating them. I appreciate your prose as well as your poetry…you write very well..whereas Miss Katie Jameson is not as fortunate. You could totally be a writer! By the way…my name is indeed Jane! Good work! ;-D

oh yes, and blunts are neither smelly, nor gross. We need a different pair of adjectives..like…blunts are “amazing” and “phenomenal”…or…”terrific” and “sensational”. i prefer peach blunts…but i think everyone likes something different. 🙂

do you call female dogs “bitches”? some people who work with dogs a lot do. Maybe that’s only the breeders who do. Your customers probably wouldn’t like hearing their darling called a bitch. Or themselves, for that matter. Davo

you should do the module and become manager, then you get big pay and prestige, drawback is that your current co-workers will be resentful and hate you and new workers will assume you’re an asshole because that’s what managers are assumed to be unless proven otherwise. You could show you’re cool by giving them dope, though. Unless they are Mormons. Davo

re yr question: I think you’d know “how she is” better than I do. She thinks you’re pretty good, though. I heard her telling my dad that you have a bigger dick than he does, but she was probably just teasing him, you know. Davo

I think it’s a lovely poem, and I’m not even gay. I remember when you posted part of it before, I remember the tapping crows and the wonderful line swindled sweet into my bed which both I and your other noter remarked about. I like the surprise ending, the part about crackers. No, J/K, I do think it is marvelous and you should not reluct to share it in class. Davo

The poem by the other student is, on the other hand, in my opinion, not to put to fine a point on it, a piece of crap, utterly lacking in sound, meter, metaphor or image. I think Miss Kitty is that old whore saloon-keeper on the Gunsmoke episodes. Davo

assumption junction i did in fact contribute quite heartily to discussion. posing questions interjections and the sort your poem was indeed pretty fuvking amazing. all the attributes of exciting and refreshing poetry there — word choice, verb, adjective… fluency goodshit

metaphor not to mention and emotion to back it etcetera. you are a verygood writer (to put it mild) its obvious in what you write outside of teeohdee not that yourdiary entries are subpar but your creative writing is often mindblowing -amber