tell_me_about_the_good_old_days blue star I remember freshman year. When even if it wasn't true, we knew we ruled the school. Nobody could get to us, nobody bothered us, even boys were minor things, easily disposed of. Then I left, and you left, and he left, and she left, and when we all came back together again something had happened, and now it will never be the same. 010204 ... birdmad als das kind, kind war 010205 ... nocturnal the good old days, before I discovered blather; not only did I get work done, I used to sleep like a normal person. nowadays I just sit here at my computer, writing, reading, staring at my closed books and binders scolding me for being such a blathering slacker. my alarm clock laughs at me because it knows that it is the necessary evil in my life; the bane of my existence and the one responsible thing in this room that makes sure I get to class in the morning. well, except for those mornings when I just throw it on the ground and smile at the scattered parts on my floor. I used to be able to wake up every morning in time to eat breakfast and get to class on time. those were the good old days. 010206 ... silentbob we used to drive around, all four of us, listening to the descendents and the bouncing souls, sometimes we'd put in some less than jake just to keep our minds off things. We'd talk about the absurdities of football, the bastardization of the countries, and how much we hated Algona. We'd stop at mcdonalds or thrift stores, drive to cities and get cds to listen to. Then we grew older and they went away and my good old days are over. 010206 ... soia Get up at the crack of dawn to catch the bus, if I'd been sleeping at all. Get to school, go to a couple of classes, have nothing to turn in and try to hide this fact from my fellow geniuses. Leave at lunch to meet my friends, go over to his apartment to get high. Next thing I know the day is over. I call my mom to come pick me up. She talks and talks, never realizing she's in a monologue rather than dialogue. We get home, I wait for her to leave, to renew my high. Next thing I know it's night and she's asleep. I sneak out of the house to hang out at the drug factory. Add sleep at random. Repeat. Those were the good old days. ("I call it a lie") 010207 ... dean-bean Nostalgia is a frightening and dangerous thing. 010208 ... birdmad the mythologies of optimists 010209 ... twiggie they are so long gone...i can hardly touch them anymore. but i get 3 days, 3 WHOLE days of the memories every year. i'm incredibly lucky for that. nothing matters, our other lives are pushed away, and we remember 3rd grade. we talk about how every girl had a crush on adam shamelessly. we fall asleep on eachother by a fire and sleep under the stars. all 9 of us will be friends forever. we promised that no matter what happens this weekend is ours. for as long as it is possible. we've changed, grown up differently, moved. but every year at the end of may we have a whole weekend to spend with eachother. so i don't miss the good old days much, i look forward to them. 010209 ... guitar_freak What really were they anyways? The days when i had false friends and selfish desires? Or later on when I did drugs all day? Parts of each so wonderful. Ha. The good ol dayz never really happened because i was always too ignorant and self decieving, so blind to any real problems until they slapped me in the face. Too burnt out to laugh. yeah so wonderful were those days... 010303 ... johnny west I used to have a brain. I used to have a fucking brain. 010330 ... Aeon_Flummox When I was here for blue The days of early 2000's They were good They were old, in my youth Now in my old days 181006 ... arwyn driving around town in my big black van, blasting The Beatles, Three Dog Night, Alice Cooper, and Marilyn Manson and thinking I was so cool because these small town hicks knew nothing. flirting my way out of every problem I found myself in and laughing it off with my friends. later, playing at the beach with my son - a toddler with sticky hands. God they were always so sticky no matter how often I made him wash them. We built sand castles and splashed each other until he found friends. playing cars with him and laying down one of those floor mats with the spikes on the bottom so we could have a smooth and solid space to race them on. crashing them together just for the fun of it. The smell of his hair after bathtime and how warm he was as he cuddled in as I read 10 Little Ladybugs to him. saturday mornings where he'd climb in bed next to me to watch cartoons while I dozed for a while. my good_old_days began the day he was born. 181008 what's it to you? who go blather from