i wanna cut you down.
17 march 1999.
it's not fair.
crystal clear & glassy eyed.

2204.

somebody cried the death of culture
somebody spit in a little boy's face.
somebody said you robbed my homeland.
somebody got the wrong impression.

so we came across the water from the shores of the isle of green.
speaking separate tongues
in the death of culture.

somebody said you stole my language.
some people will say anything.
somebody said you robbed my heritage.
some people will believe anything.
somebody said you always spoke English.
SOMEBODY GOT THE WRONG IMPRESSION.

so we came across the water from the shores of the isle of green.
speaking separate tongues
in the death of culture..
it was the death of culture.
the death of culture.

bhi machree(a long time ago)
ohin trasna na farraige(my heart came from across the sea.)
bhi machree
ohin trasna na farraige
so we came across the water
from the shores of the isle of green
so we came across the water
speaking seperate tongues
in the death of culture

-celtic aggression. tonic.

i remember when i was a little girl.. my grandmother used to sit me on her lap & sing me songs in gaelic. i would fall asleep & i don't think i listened to closely to the words.. at least not close enough..

when i was growing up, i tried to learn gaelic. it didn't work out because i was too lazy. now i'm sorry.

i like being irish. i think there are a lot of times that i recognize that i am, not just on saint patty's day when everyone around is clinking glasses, & singing "danny boy." but i like being irish.

oh & one more thing. daniel johns, the lead singer of silverchair, is really flipping hot.



1754.
hbah. yes. rock the casbah.
erin, miss word of the day, is gone so i'm blasting 'black star.' i think this is my favorite radiohead song besides 'true love waits.' favorite released radiohead song. means the most to me, perhaps. i think so.

so i'm considering sleeping. i don't know. i'm good at pretending i'm someone else. no really, it's me, i'm just pretending. i do the best impression of myself. when i see a face like you. blame it on the falling sky. when i go lie down, i shall wake up & it will be dark outside. i will walk across the sidewalk, "that thing out there," go inside a building & attempt to maintain normal control of my life. i doubt this will work or prove effective. when i see a face like you.when i see a face like you.

i know Nothing of all the things around your head. i mean, i suppose if you asked me something, i might be able to putz around & act like i know the answers, but i'm not sure that it would be quite convincing. does it seem like i know you? does it seem like i should? do you think you've given me proper information or should i fill in the circle d on my answer sheet? i'm confused, highly, by the things that make you float. i know one of them & that's about it. bring me home & just tell me everything about anything involving you. that's what i want. i'll make hot chocolate & drink it in my grey washington & lee mug & lean on a couch, legs tucked underneath me & listen. i think i'd probably be in long sleeves & flants. but it's you i want to know, you i want to hear, you i want to see. if you know me so well.. i don't think i could tell you. the sun comes through my blinds & i'm wondering if you noticed that i'm squinting. go on, blame it on [ ]. something. when i see a face like you.

yes. so this is me. this is you. this is us. soon we'll have documentation of this raptuous beginning. document. crumpled letters crumpled beside my bed. should i send them? i need a stamp. when i see a face like you.when i see a face like you.

i know all the things around my head but i'm not about to face them, deal with them. "part of the whole process is just admitting you have a problem." problem? i bubbled in the circle long ago. defer to your records, please, i don't want you to waste my time. when i see a face like you.when i see a face like you.when i see a face like you. i'm kind of tired.. could we perhaps move on to something else before i become suddenly afflicted with narcolepsy? that would be a good idea, i think. what are your thoughts?when i see a face like you.

when i say, "hello, how are you?" i'm not asking if you're fine or not. i want to know what you're thinking about. twenty words or more. maybe not all in the same sentence, but eventually in three or four breaths. have you ever really measured how long you can talk in three or four breaths? maybe i'll try this out later. it's a possibility. crrooooo-aaaahhhhhhh. this is. crrrrooooooohhhh-ahhhhhhhhhhhhh. when i see a face like you.when i see a face like you.

four breaths. it only seems to take one at the moment. i'm still standing.



earlier.

good god. hello. this may be a silly thing to do, but i know you all want an update on how i slept last night. well.
i got back into bed after my evening four hour nap at about one. slept until 6:30, the witching hour it seems. couldn't go back to sleep. had to keep telling myself not to eat something for some unknown reason.

anyway, the saga continues. i'll have more later. bah.

so it's later. okay, you know what? i'm really not liking these progressive journals that follow me throughout the day. i mean.. i really don't think it's interesting. seems very dull & boring & lacking any kind of substance. so i think this will be the last one of the week. then maybe next week i'll think it's a grand idea & start doing it again.

anyway, i didn't allow myself to think in the shower. instead, i sang oasis songs. "sheeee's electric. she's in a family fuuull of eccentrics." lovely. & again i avoided washing the things off my hand. let's write them down now, shall we, before any other harm or soap comes near them. (jesus i'm tired. why in fuck would i be tired?!)
__
....___

........ACID
----
-------
-----------

rbl
picking up feet

goddamn alien sundial.

okay. the end. that's what's on my hand, that's what's staying on my hand OH MY FUCKING GOD.

OKAY. i see how today being saint patrick's day (gin dance & drunken hiccup) is very important.. but my word of the flipping day is ERIN. what. the. FUCK. okay, you know. i know it's a poetic name for ireland, people. but COME ON. i am starting to Hate, Despise & LOATHE the american heritage dictionary. i'm thinking that webster could come up with something a whole fuck of a lot better. sweet merciful crap.

do i sound crazy? well i just might.

good god. bitter.. do i sound bitter? okay, i'm done.
seeing as this is the last day of my continuous journal entries, i'll probably be back ("don't threaten me. who's the man? WHO'S THE MAN?!") so don't get too upset.

here's a conversation topic for you:
you're talking to your friend over the phone.
he says, "damn, these pants are hard to get off."
what's your response?
discuss.


1124.
okay. so the thing is. if i go work on my psych studying, then i will fall asleep. however, if i stay at the computer, i will not fall asleep & will still get nothing done except writing in my journal. so it's journal time, people. & i have an important issue to present.

Bread.

yes, let's talk about bread. bread. such a simple thing. we use bread as side dishes, sandwiches, decoration.. my goodness there are a lot of uses to bread. but have you ever really sat down with a piece of your bread & admired its quality? i ask you this question because i think we forget about the little things. bread. stick some jelly on that sucker & you've got a sandwich. bread. throw it next to a plate of spaghetti & you've got a full meal. i think my grandmother really understands this concept. she's really good at bread.

at any rate, enjoy your bread the next time you have some. oh, & for you radiohead fans, listen to "prove yourself" & try to tell me he doesn't say, "i'm better off, bread." hmmmm?

shut the fuck up.

learn to buck up.