Morning is broken

Who the hell broke it? That's what I wanna know. Can't keep nothin' nice.....

Ahoy! I see Dave Matthews in my very near future! He's gonna sing just for me, and for me alone (I wish). Why I'm such a ho for this fella is beyond me, but his music touches me more than I wish he would physically. It makes me fly and boogie, think and wish, spin and weep. Dave Matthews is beyond groovalicious.

I gots pics!

One of is an anatomically correct tomato and the other two of what I look like this morning in preparation for the concert tonight.

Look away, baby, look away!
( materdicks, tin, and dave )

Even though my arm is still bludgeon-like, I feel pretty damned good. Don't fuck up my decent mood, any of you.

Slithering

It's a word that's synonymous with Cadmus Pariah. I can see him (yea, even feel him sometimes) spiralling spiritually, like a double helix, around my body and soul. It's protective and predatory all at once. His words and presence slither into my consciousness and I find myself looking at the world through slitted eyes, devoid of emotion save for the occasional apex of disdain. Cadmus is just as much my child as he is B's, perhaps moreso in his rampant animosity toward all around him. It seems that B has a much better worldview than I, his faithful acolyte; nevertheless, that aspect of Cadmus would never have come forth through me had it not been for the promptings of B's inspiration.

Right now, Cadmus is slithering. Whether or not this will produce any more writing at his behest remains to be seen.

But it thrills me when he slithers.

To Whom It May Concern

No amount of yammering and bellyaching will change the basic fact that, once a mailing has left the hallowed halls of The Pit, how it gets there is out of my hands. If you insist on using USPS, there's a chance that you're going to get buggered just like everyone else who has anything to do with government-run institutions. Calling and badgering me about it repeatedly will get you nowhere but near the top of my very long and indelible shit list.

I will be gone from this vale of tears in two to three months. Do you honestly think I truly give a flying flip about your Foo Fighters mailing gone awry? Fuck you, fuck your mama, and fuck anyone in remote contact with you.

Thank you very much for your attention.

Hello Dave

I'm about to hit the road for Charlotte for to see my future husband Dave Matthews.

*squee* doesn't even bloody cover it.