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bluelovesorangeI created 
crushw_eyeliner in February, so there'll be an LJ anniversary coming up, but I started journalling officially on-line 10/21/1999, in diaryland.com. For whatever reason, I decamped and started frequently journalling at xanga.com on 6/21/2001. I'm reading through my old journal entries, and I'm pleasantly surprised by how some of the entries still hold up, even after a couple of years. So, in the very best American Self-Love Way (tm), I'll be posting my favorite entries here, so I'll have an all encompasing archive of sorts.
Starting with this
22 June 2001 Friday
1:48 a.m.
Oh God. Oh God.
Whyyyyy did I have that iced mocha at 12:00 fucking something?
I can't sleep.
Have prepared to sleep, ridiculous nightshirt, glass of water drunk, finished current novel, began reading pages of the dictionary but NOTHING is happening except
that my uterus feels like someone is squeezing it with a iron knuckled fist
my entire body is one big knot
and I have work in approximately six-seven hours.
Morpheus is not even close to knocking me down.
I'd settle for Death at this point, except she'd probably say it was my fault for imbibing caffiene with whipped cream (Oh God WHYYYYYYYYYY) at such a late hour.
And not only caffiene.
A plate of ravioli with parmesan curls, with bruschetta, and five glasses of water.
Then, a walk along the streets of Balboa with an interlude with a mechanical horse - which was possessed by the demonic essence of the energizer bunny--it kept on going and going
Ended up sprawled on the cold paved sidewalk, clutching my stomach, panting, "Pain..Pain...Pain...hahahah..gwwaaahhhaaaaa...oh god oh god, oh god, pain pain pain..hahahaahah" which was not helped at ALL by Paul's howls of laughter.
The man laughs like a cross between a drunken woman and a kookaburra bird.
It's quite disturbing in daytime, and downright scary at night - because a) it is infectious b) once you start, you can't stop until all your internal organs have rearranged themselves, so your pancreas ends up somewhere by your armpit c) all control of your body just flies out the window.
Imagine the scene--you're walking sedately down a balmy picturesque sidewalk and you nearly trip over a black garbed spiky creature hugging the ground, gasping, "Oh god..I can't ...stopp...must stop...Hahaahhahahbwwwaaaahhhhh" while rocking back and forth -- on a bench, a small Jewish girl is holding her stomach and wheezing, to her immediate left is a tall blonde chap in light blue shirt and jeans, hugging himself tightly and giggling..and ohhhh, the center fold is a gangly, terrifying blur of khaki and dockers running back and forth on the sidewalk, hooting and howling and waving his arms about.
Yes, you'd run the other way too.
We were quite loud, and I'm surprised no one called the cops on us.
Anyway, lesson learnt--
never put a quarter in to ride a mechanical horse on the sidewalk after you've eaten a big meal
because chances are
you will be brutally tossed about like a helpless stuffed animal on one of those mechanical bulls, forced to an unnatural rythmn that goes on for FAR TOO LONG
and your friends will fall about on the ground, laughing hysterically until they're ready to vomit or cry
...
I still hurt.
After M's impromptu horse riding session, we crawled back to the parking lot and went back to chez M, where we (name check : Paul, me, B, and Mark) split up and head back home.
Paul, M, me end up going to a hole in the wall coffee house where it's open mic night and people sit around and glare at each other, and play bad Radiohead covers.
I get the CURSED ice mocha and listen to Paul and M chat intelligently about punk music and scenesters. Mostly I'm absorbed by the whipped cream and a fellow patron's hideously shiny shirt and Flock of Seagulls hair cut.
I've seen pudding bowl haircuts, but this was just bad - it was as if he upended a triangular vase on his head and told his barber to 'cut around it'.
He had a rat tail as well, so...GAAAHHH.
I had a violent urge to tell him all he needed was parachute pants and he'd be the next Vanilla Ice.
Yes, yes, I know. This from the girl with blue-green hair.
Pot, kettle, black. With Sparkles on.
Thankfully, my inner fashionista was doped up by the caffiene and I walked out without causing a scene.
2:12 a.m.
recap - solstice celebration - ferry - dinner - conversation centered around - religion, famous people you'd have dinner with - literary character you'd like to meet - animal instincts - Paul's imaginary line - Men with No Necks - Romance novels - Satan's works? - ancient Torture Techniques : the rack, st. sebastian's skewering, lynching, pike, dragged to death through the streets, Bastard Romans, Egypt - back in time - biological clocks - baby smell - dead end jobs - mechanical horse from HELL - laughing - stomach pain - tickle fest upon ferry - travis songs - peter paul & mary song - future generation of britney spears and justin timberlake - off key rolling stone songs - sister and pain in the butt roommates - independence and booty calls - star ferris wheel - true love - phallus - 'you not funny - you diet coke' - parking - chez m - montezuma - goth girl - green dreads - bad radiohead covers - echo effect on mic - too much coffee - cat in driveway - bed no where in sight.
crushw_eyeliner in February, so there'll be an LJ anniversary coming up, but I started journalling officially on-line 10/21/1999, in diaryland.com. For whatever reason, I decamped and started frequently journalling at xanga.com on 6/21/2001. I'm reading through my old journal entries, and I'm pleasantly surprised by how some of the entries still hold up, even after a couple of years. So, in the very best American Self-Love Way (tm), I'll be posting my favorite entries here, so I'll have an all encompasing archive of sorts.Starting with this
22 June 2001 Friday
1:48 a.m.
Oh God. Oh God.
Whyyyyy did I have that iced mocha at 12:00 fucking something?
I can't sleep.
Have prepared to sleep, ridiculous nightshirt, glass of water drunk, finished current novel, began reading pages of the dictionary but NOTHING is happening except
that my uterus feels like someone is squeezing it with a iron knuckled fist
my entire body is one big knot
and I have work in approximately six-seven hours.
Morpheus is not even close to knocking me down.
I'd settle for Death at this point, except she'd probably say it was my fault for imbibing caffiene with whipped cream (Oh God WHYYYYYYYYYY) at such a late hour.
And not only caffiene.
A plate of ravioli with parmesan curls, with bruschetta, and five glasses of water.
Then, a walk along the streets of Balboa with an interlude with a mechanical horse - which was possessed by the demonic essence of the energizer bunny--it kept on going and going
Ended up sprawled on the cold paved sidewalk, clutching my stomach, panting, "Pain..Pain...Pain...hahahah..gwwaaahhhaaaaa...oh god oh god, oh god, pain pain pain..hahahaahah" which was not helped at ALL by Paul's howls of laughter.
The man laughs like a cross between a drunken woman and a kookaburra bird.
It's quite disturbing in daytime, and downright scary at night - because a) it is infectious b) once you start, you can't stop until all your internal organs have rearranged themselves, so your pancreas ends up somewhere by your armpit c) all control of your body just flies out the window.
Imagine the scene--you're walking sedately down a balmy picturesque sidewalk and you nearly trip over a black garbed spiky creature hugging the ground, gasping, "Oh god..I can't ...stopp...must stop...Hahaahhahahbwwwaaaahhhhh" while rocking back and forth -- on a bench, a small Jewish girl is holding her stomach and wheezing, to her immediate left is a tall blonde chap in light blue shirt and jeans, hugging himself tightly and giggling..and ohhhh, the center fold is a gangly, terrifying blur of khaki and dockers running back and forth on the sidewalk, hooting and howling and waving his arms about.
Yes, you'd run the other way too.
We were quite loud, and I'm surprised no one called the cops on us.
Anyway, lesson learnt--
never put a quarter in to ride a mechanical horse on the sidewalk after you've eaten a big meal
because chances are
you will be brutally tossed about like a helpless stuffed animal on one of those mechanical bulls, forced to an unnatural rythmn that goes on for FAR TOO LONG
and your friends will fall about on the ground, laughing hysterically until they're ready to vomit or cry
...
I still hurt.
After M's impromptu horse riding session, we crawled back to the parking lot and went back to chez M, where we (name check : Paul, me, B, and Mark) split up and head back home.
Paul, M, me end up going to a hole in the wall coffee house where it's open mic night and people sit around and glare at each other, and play bad Radiohead covers.
I get the CURSED ice mocha and listen to Paul and M chat intelligently about punk music and scenesters. Mostly I'm absorbed by the whipped cream and a fellow patron's hideously shiny shirt and Flock of Seagulls hair cut.
I've seen pudding bowl haircuts, but this was just bad - it was as if he upended a triangular vase on his head and told his barber to 'cut around it'.
He had a rat tail as well, so...GAAAHHH.
I had a violent urge to tell him all he needed was parachute pants and he'd be the next Vanilla Ice.
Yes, yes, I know. This from the girl with blue-green hair.
Pot, kettle, black. With Sparkles on.
Thankfully, my inner fashionista was doped up by the caffiene and I walked out without causing a scene.
2:12 a.m.
recap - solstice celebration - ferry - dinner - conversation centered around - religion, famous people you'd have dinner with - literary character you'd like to meet - animal instincts - Paul's imaginary line - Men with No Necks - Romance novels - Satan's works? - ancient Torture Techniques : the rack, st. sebastian's skewering, lynching, pike, dragged to death through the streets, Bastard Romans, Egypt - back in time - biological clocks - baby smell - dead end jobs - mechanical horse from HELL - laughing - stomach pain - tickle fest upon ferry - travis songs - peter paul & mary song - future generation of britney spears and justin timberlake - off key rolling stone songs - sister and pain in the butt roommates - independence and booty calls - star ferris wheel - true love - phallus - 'you not funny - you diet coke' - parking - chez m - montezuma - goth girl - green dreads - bad radiohead covers - echo effect on mic - too much coffee - cat in driveway - bed no where in sight.
