imposter while scooping fruit and sherbert into a blender today, the thought suddenly occured to me that i wanted quiznos for lunch.

i havent been able to eat quiznos in so long. a mesquite chicken sandwhich with honey mustard instead of ranch. a turkey sandwhich, JUST turkey and mayo. and hold the odd looks too, please. it just brings back too many ghosts of memories.

as i suddenly realized i wanted quiznos, i thought about it and found that it was ok. that i could have quiznos. i really wanted it and it wasnt a problem anymore. no second thoughts. and as i thought about quiznos, i relaized that i wanted to make a 3eb cd for my new mp3 player in my car. and i havent been able to listen to them at all. and i realized that i wanted to listen to them and make a cd. and it was going to be ok. just then, at that moment making a citrus squeeze, it was fine and i could listen to them and eat quiznos and watch baseball and not be haunted by memories of a body too beautiful to forget and of a kiss too sensuous too ignore. i was fine and so happy about it.

and then, in the most heinous coincidence in recent times, i come home to find, for no particular reason whatsoever, three geodes inexplicably sitting on the front step.



i didnt have quiznos for lunch, and while i made the cd, i couldnt listen to some certain songs, especially from the third album. i love my new stereo though. and life truly is marvelous and wonderful and im so ready to go.


today i was haunted by her eyes for some reason. . .

ghosts of memories
smurfus rex ah, good ol' quizno's. it has been too long. 031202
schlotzkeys damn, i no longer have a corner on the hot sub market! 031202
endless desire yesterday. i was at noras. pictures to prove. and then to yoga. pictures to prove. i did not see glenhaven yesterday. i did not think about you. i did not touch a geode. i didn't think about you. i did not touch your front step. and i didn't think about you. i haven't eaten quiznos in months and months, but this word on the list made my stomach grumble and i wanted to talk about turkey sandwiches. it seems you already have. maybe some day, i should come to your door step and leave the photos in the book, and the letters and the tapes and geodes and the gum i have on my cord from that first night and the potato from my lunch. you can put it with the 154_messages. have fun. i didn't touch any geodes. what.the.hell.

i still listen to 3eb and i want to go to vancouver. maybe i'll invite my mum so i don't have to go alone.
imposter they were my cousins geodes, and they were outside so katelynn could play with them in the sun. i never said you put them there nor did i even assume for a moment that you had

and besides, if they were those geodes, i would have recognized them anyways. i didnt carry around its other half and touch it every day for 45 days just to forget you. . .

please dont give those things back. if you need to, then do it. . . but please, dont do it out of anger. i have everything you ever gave me tucked safely away. and now i wish more than anything that i hadnt deleted those 154_messages. i knew id regret it, but oh_well

i suppose i should be glad that you dont think of me anymore. . .

the two things i cannot stand:
you mad at me
forgetting each other

i still listen to 3eb and read baseball news everyday. and i still want to go to vancouver. maybe ill invite you. someday
realistic optimist and this is why you never show a significant other the blue pages! 031203
time_warp what about exes? 031203
endless desire i hate you i hate you i hate you
just get out of here damnit.
leave me alone forever.
i don't want to think about you.
i don't want you in my mind.
i don't want to talk to you.
you've made everything so difficult
and i just want to be normal again.
i don't care if im a fucking child--
i always have been.
i love blather.
it's a place where i am safe. . .
the only place i have.
and i don't want to think about you while im here.
who cares about it all?
it happens ok?
people become friends.
people fall in love.
people end.
it just happens.
and then
people get over it.
just go date some pretty girl.
go love some pretty girl so
i don't have to feel so bad anymore.
so i don't have to feel like i owe you something anymore.
i don't owe you anything.
it happens. it happens.
it was a beautiful thing while it lasted.
and i know i'll regret a million things
and regret everything im saying
but just
get out of my head.
leave my memory.
i want to feel clean.
i want to control this.
i swear to god im not a control freak.
i just can't keep feeling like im out of control.
dont even reply.
dont even come back.
fuck stay on blather if you want but use a different name or anything so i dont have to fuck
i dont care.
i dont care.
i'll just leave. i dont want to be on blather with you here.
i'll go to red.
fuck im out of here.
i can't stand it.
i want to go to san fran.
and i want to go there and i want to jump off the bridge.
i saw this thing on it on the news.
more than at thousand people have jumped from the bridge since it was created.
and only two dozen or so have survived.
they even interviewed survivors.
what a way to die.
one way ticket.
stay in there. enjoy the best fucking city ive ever been in.
and when i blow any money i have
just take a walk to bridge
and jump off the side.
there's not even a barrier.
damnit it's so easy. so simple.
more than 200 feet to the ocean.
flying through the air at 70 miles an hour
and you hit the water in 4 seconds.
it's like hitting concrete.
and then it's over.
i don't have to deal with anything anymore.
anyone anymore.
i dont have to deal with this
i hate it
i hate it so much
god i wish i didn't have to exist
i wish
i just
i dont want to be here at all
dont make me live here
thats the thing
im not afraid of anything anymore
im not afraid of getting hurt
or dying
or being stolen or anything.
i used to stay up at nights.
sometimes, and worry about people breaking in
even though those kind of things dont happen around here.
i used to worry they'd take me and i'd die.
or that i'd be outside
or walking across campus at the college late at night
or crash in the car
or catch a disease
or infection
or anything
anything at all.
always so worried.
but im just not anymore.
it all seems like such a relief.
i didn't mean to go on.
im just that fucked up girl you used to know.
leave me alone
or by me a ticket to san francisco.
everything just seems so awful.
like there's never been anything beautiful at all.
ever at all.
im off.
i hate these pages.
i dont want to look at them.
i dont want to look at them.
lindsey i have a friend named ian. he works at quiznos. he is very attractive. in high school, he was too cool to talk to me. now we drink together.
such is life.
marjorie we all have friends who work or worked at quiznos.
john was fired.
maybe he was late too much.
maybe he gave away over-priced sandwiches.
maybe he was just too good to be stuck behind a counter
when he wanted to be out playing poker
magicforest there is something about what marjorie wrote that made me read it over





But I'll say this for quiznos: you are all nomads. You are not being resourceful. Why must things be so difficult. You are acting like me. It's improper. It's a high. People always wait until the last possible moment to admit what matters and what does not.

So what matters?


is from jupiter
oren Toasty! 060316
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