| dewy decimal |
2003-04-23 - 2:58 p.m.
Okay. So I know that recently, my journals have been unforgivably banal, despite the irregular series of events that have occurred. Today I resolve to use adjectives that an insane Brazilian resident with limited English skills may use. I will marry the oddest union of words by the sheer audacity of my will. A bizarre emergence of Arranged Marriages! Also, I will raise my ever-lethargic ring finger so that my sentences will be CAPITALIZED properly. A little reverence for writing. I really have to raise the quality of my writing. (For realz yo)
I lost my wallet last night. I really loved that wallet too. I just gave this wallet a renaissance after retiring it for several years. It was a black nylon wallet with electric blue trim crawling on the edges. It�s not even that it was particularly a masterpiece of a wallet or anything, but I made it in the 7th grade in my sewing class. To the wallet, I was God/slash/Mommy.
I know it�s very illogical, but I think that me losing the wallet was a result of being an absolute fucking prick last night. Whenever I�m around Markie, I find myself being a real paragon of fierceness. An avatar of Cocaine. I become purple-blooded, eyebrows lurching over wickedly lit eyes. Hot air bursting out with laughter�I become mad. What we did was befriend an older man who was so entranced by Markie. We basically harassed and ignored him for an hour while he bought us rounds and when we were done we didn�t even say thanks. We just stood up adjusted our jeans and left. It didn�t even occur to me how sinister this was until today. Today I feel so ill for it. No matter how foolish and lethally boring the man was he certainly did not deserve to be treated the way he was. Usually when someone offers to buy me a drink I decline because I don�t want any favors or nothing. But when I�m in the mischievous company of either Markie, Lawrence, Everet, or Twan I wait slowly for the unapologetic beast. I feel like a drag queen.
I was so wasted last night, who the fuck knows where the fuck my wallet is. When Shari dropped me off, it took me 2 minutes and 1 panic attack to realize what neighborhood I was in. I wasn�t sure if I was going to cry or fall asleep, nuzzling with the cool face of a storm drain.
Okay nevermind, I just got a text message from Shari, �Morning. Sorry up so late. YES! I got your wallet.� Well thanks a fucking bunch Shari, that blows my whole theory. Shiieeet!