mourn not the match devoured in kindling flame. (lacrimae_rerum) wrote,
mourn not the match devoured in kindling flame.

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i only trust my life in jim farrell's hands.

(Florida will break off the continent. It will be an island and party with Cuba.)
Parenthetical statements aside, it's been an interesting amount of time. We're now in my name-month. And that plays with my head. I hear "September" and realize, "Oh, just the month, gahrrrr." This can get very obnoxious.
The Hurricane canceled school for tomorrow, which is good because I really didn't want to take that beastly bio test. I got a 85 on the quiz. Hoorah.
Gault's ceased being mind-numblingly painful and has ascended to "dull but somewhat tolerable". Vicodin could probably fix that class's wagon.
As for everything else, it's been good. My aunt was down and we bowled and stuff. Had my first "official" date thing, dinner and the Bell Tower (hahaha, and we saw soooo many FMHS kids, oh man) and a stuffed giraffe. The parents are also returning from Hawaii, exotic fruit and silly pineapple shirt in tow.
I'm going to be a white rapper someday. For the Luau or whatever's like it. We'll form a group like Northern State and rap about stupid things. Like free nacho days and Logan's Corner, word.
Completely wicked. Soru fo sho.

Finally: was a bit disappointing only because it so shattered the personas of the BLS guys from the show. Ryan Turner, how dare you subvert that clean cut image by flipping off the camera and telling Sheehan to "f--- off!" And what's with Antwon and that other black guy? Word.
Welcome back, Chino. <3

post-script: go see the new poem at a_lapsus_calami. i'm too lazy to link.
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