What if that is the reason I was suppose to discover a new geometric language, to demonstrate the impossibility of common grammar unless one learns how to participate in the naming convention?

It was important enough to be targeted for development at this time, it must have applications beyond what I thought.

Well, the reason geometry is so underdeveloped which allowed for the discovery is certainly due to the inability to think in terms of a convention of names. Well, maybe I need to crash on this thought.

ready.
set.
go;
pancakes.
gah.
glad that's done.
cookies?
no.
make your own.
smiles.
teeth.
diddy?
the ****.
muh homie.
i think he's cool.
we should hang out.
he'd probably smoke weed though.
grrr.
should i smoke weed?
maybe.
i should try it, no?
what if it makes your art better?
my siblings told me to start making and selling stuff.
sometimes they're oddly supportive.
most of the time they make me feel like ****.
hm.
bald.
what should i do?
go to school?
get a job?
make stuff?
sell stuff?
nothing?
nothing.
that's what i do.
that's what i know.
hm.
just make stuff, damn it.
you're good at it.
what?
anything.
grrr.
garage.
moving out.
oregon.
portland.
hipsters?
shut up.
glasses.
beards.
oh beards.
i love you.
a mug with a beard.
O:
brilliant idea.
i need clay.
damn it.
tomorrow?
oh yeah.
tomorrow.
hey.
i have plans.
o.O
weird.
damn it.
this requires going out.
grrr.
i need a safety net.
i wish i had a pet.
maybe i'd feel less lonely.
damn you adele.
why do you make me sad?
joshua, guess what?
i don't like you anymore.
:D
i'm so glad.
i don't hate you either though.
so all is well.
as well as it can possibly be in my head at least.
arg.
pirates.
cartoon network.
adventure time.
obama.
obama?
trying to win the hispanic vote.
ha.
oh lord.
i know too much about politics.
what if i got into politics?
i'd punch too many people.
no can do.
shower?
yes.
go shower.
and make your bed, you filthy animal.

I see the fog, but where, or please where is the rain.

My chest hurts.
It feels like there is an elephant sitting on it.
Why an elephant?
Because they're large and it seems like a good analogy.
Mmm vicodin.
Yay for modern medicine.
The elephant is still there.
However it's less bothersome.
What do I feel like watching?
Something that doesn't have an elephant in it.
So that movie with Bill Murray in it, is out.
I don't remember the name.
I just looked up and saw someone staring at me.
Maybe it's because i'm outside on the computer.
Dear person, please stop staring.
He's wearing flannel. I don't like flannel.
I need to do laundry.
However I don't care for the idea of carrying around an elephant.
That guy is still staring.
He's still wearing flannel.
Dear sir, you're making me very uncomfortable.
Oh good, he finally went in.

Pain in the chest, humph, I have had it ever since I can remember. It brings about visions of me stabbing myself in the heart, over and over, but the pain remains. I am sure it is from lack of water. Fog covers the earth, but where is the rain?

Weep the Willowing Whisper Walks
A near, felled, pretty.
But can she take the dripple drop,
of puffed up ocean me?
Hand me stick, dear talking cane
and glossy boots not dry
Weep the Willowing Whisper Walks
beside her so may I.

Why do I recall that poem, when I hate poetry. I wrote it, and I hate poetry, so why bring it up? What an asswhipe.

Have you ever had an Egyptian Feast?
Call the Fremonts, fast! And for Pete's sake, don't let them eat anything!
I will not be threatened by a walking meat loaf!
Meat's meat, and a man's gotta eat.
It takes all kinds of critters to make Farmer Vincent's fritters.
Your mother ate my dog.
Not all of it.
Where's my cake? I... want... my... cake! Where's my cake, Bedelia?
Must've been one of them hard shelled pepper corns
Look, darlin'. Built ya a little fry house.
I hate grapes!
I can't stand grapes!
I loathe grapes!
All kinds of grapes!
I hate purple grapes!
I hate green grapes!
I hate grapes with seeds!
I hate grapes without seeds!
I hate them peeled and non-peeled!
I hate grapes in bunches, one at a time, or in groups of twos and threes!
I ****ing hate grapes!
First you wanna kill me, now you wanna kiss me. Blow.(He says this while eating grapes)
Why do you eat people?
Not people. Brains.
Eating brains. How does that make you feel?
Eat 'em! Eat 'em! Crunch crunch!
I see you brought your lettuce.
Spam!
You bring a can opener?
No, I guess I didn't
Then don't knock it, it's got it's own key.
Are you eating it or is it eating you?
Choke on 'em!
What's the watermelon for?

You can watch the movie Elephant, interestingly it doesn't have an elephant in it.

because i'm leaving for a week;
i want to cry.
i want to cry.
i want to cry.
why are people so mean?
they're stupid.
that's why.
i know,
but the stupid stuff they say still hurts.
whatever comes out of stupid people's mouths doesn't matter though, right?
damn it.
i want to cry.
maybe because i haven't cried in days.
i knew this high was lasting a little too long.
canvas.
clay.
beard stuff.
(:
beards put a smile on my face.
racist mother ****ers make me want to skin them alive.
i should go blog.
i wonder if joshua reads that.
maybe?
rude of him though.
no.
you can not come over for sex.
you're gross.
soak up the sun?
no thanks.
the sun kills.
my legs are super white though.
o.O
superman.
boooooo.
batman's better.
exclamation mark.
bam!
squiggle squiggle.
amber.
hm.
she's an odd one.
but so am i.
i have to put up with her crap if she puts up with mine.
koalas?
never seen one.
guys in hats look weird.
and tanks.
don't wear tanks.
they're disturbing.
white glasses.
gag.
the worst.
kelly clarkson.
no bra.
whoa.
don't you wanna stay here a little while?
actually,
i do.
i'm scared to leave.
o.O
damn it.
i have to.
you have to.
mumford and sons.
i love you.
with all my stupid little heart.
damn it.
go blog.
this is enough.

Whaaat the....

Call me a blonde if you want, but i still dont understand the topic

stream of consciousness;
writing down all thoughts in your head exactly as they come up.
well,
as best as possible.
basically,
a lot of typing nonstop of exactly what's in your head.

Sex.
Drugs.
Violence.

Green pills and green pens and purple pens and purple hair.

A small parade of pretentious, sexless fiends.

I don't belong anywhere. But I knew that.

Dr. Thompson.
Sometimes listening to somebody speak for a few minutes is enough to make me want to drive out in to the desert and eat peyote.
Or shoot myself in the face so I can get a nap.

Sunrise or sunset.
Senseless implications.

John Waters was right. If you go to someone's house and they don't have any books, don't **** them.

The Little Prince.
This mysterious land of tears.
Stalkers.
Purple hair.
Rhyme scheme.
The desert.

'Dear maiden... can you not hear? The chatter of a death-demon from a treetop?'

Red Badge of Courage is such a short book.
I am the opposite of fascinated with WWII.

I was on the bus for over three hours today, going nowhere really. On the ride home about five miles from my house as I lay scrunched up in the seat with my MP3 player going (I think Thugz Mansion was on) this 40 year old Mexican guy asks me what my secret is.

I'm wearing a fedora. The only reason I picked that seat is because the girl behind me had cool hair. I was tired. I wanted to sleep.

The 40 year old Mexican guy sits down unnervingly close to me. He insists that I get '******* like mad', proceeds to tell me that he lives for sex and that he must know my secret, he's sure that I get tons of girls.

I was so confused.

I tell him that if you want something stop looking for it, that sex is easy to get if you want to pay for it or if you actually want to like the person then just don't care. Let it happen.

He was not satisfied by this.

He tried to convince me to go up to the bay with him and pick up girls at a bar or a club. He told me that he'd just gotten paid and just got off work and that he needed to get laid.

I told him that I don't go to bars or clubs and that any girl I'd want to have sex with I couldn't meet there. I like conversations.

He said I didn't like girls.

I told him I did. I told him I like talking to girls too. I told him that getting laid is really really easy if you don't care about it. Finding someone you like is really difficult.

He wanted to know the names of all the girls I was having sex with.

So I started making up names.

I think one was Aberdeen. I've always liked that name.

Talking really loudly. He kept talking about how California is nothing but ******* and beaches. I told him that I'm from Detroit, which is nothing but crime and drugs and depression.

He got off a couple miles before me and I went back to listening to music.

I think he's the reason that we have to meet each other in well-lit areas when we first meet. He's that guy. I didn't believe in him. He's like the ****ing Loch Ness Monster of creepy ****ers.

Thieves.
Sleep.
I have a new nickname.
Absinthe.
Massage oil.
The bathroom fan.

I leave it on. Get over it. You think that's really hurting the electricity bill? You're watching a 50 inch TV and playing XBox and in the other room your computer is burning pirated games.

But the fan. That'll ruin it for everyone.

I ate 12 donuts, a peanut sandwich, and a cup of Ramen for dinner.

How do people feel comfortable who have never been exposed to violence? I just expect it.

Violence.

We all use each other.

Poetry isn't dead, but most of the best published poets are.

I already felt hot as it was, without mum turning the heating up, sky high.
It just makes me feel more hotter and unwell than i already was. [pointless].
Argh! Shut up barking!
The neighbours will complain "It's that bloody dog, again".
But those neighbours can go f*** a duck.
Cos i like my dog.
And that's that.
I think i spoil him too much.
He doesn't know how easy he has it being a dog.
Their life seems easy.
They don't even have to do much.
They have everything done for them.
Why does it feel as if i'm talking to myself? :O

bleh.
go;
why are you dead?
i don't know.
tired i guess.
painting is a mother ****er.
well,
painting ceilings at least.
ahhhh.
banjos.
stomping.
beards.
i love thou.
oooh.
what if someone shaved a heart in their beard?
that'd be sweet.
that's how i should be proposed to.
ha.
like i'll be proposed to.
framed painting.
bleh.
now what?
i guess i sit around til i decide to paint something else.
wasn't i suppose to make something for my niece?
cupcakes.
those too.
damn it.
i need to make frosting.
hm.
where's my sister.
tegan and sara.
any new stuff?
i wonder.
****ing underworld.
idgaf.
flavio's birthday is tomorrow.
happy birthday!
i love you.
(:
birds.
van.
piano.
i want one.
ponies.
kids.
whoa.
for a second i thought;
what if i was pregnant.
my lord.
the horror.
don't everevereverever think about that ever again.
why do i post this **** on here?
i don't know.
i guess i have no where else to post it.
it could go in my blog i suppose,
but i believe i prefer for those to make some sense.
these are just **** splattered here and there.
twenty bucks.
two hundred bucks.
what the **** happened to em?
tattoo?
it'll hurt like a motha ****a.
oh well.
dagger?
i'll draw something up.
soon.
clowns.
i've seen one.
hm.
what should i eat?
bleh.
i'm not really hungry.
bleh.
bleh.
bleh.
my mouth doesn't work.
i think i'm scared to go out in public because i'll be forced to use my mouth.
but i don't know how to talk.
the conundrum.
people are weird.
annoying.
sometimes i wish to choke em all.
but everyone has their reasons for acting like that, no?
i know i have mine.
hm.
should i write another letter?
i give myself weird speeches.
perhaps i'm suppose to actually tell them to people.
o.O
like hell i'm going to talk to people.
click.
click.
click.
ah ****.
my knee hurts.
and i have bruises.
wtf.
you owe me.
oh.
oh.
oh.
music.
memories.
sadness.
i'll leave now.

baha.
i love going back and reading these.
they're thought transcripts.
:p
ready.
set.
go;
the joy formidable?
they're so upbeat.
i like em.
i want to see em.
they'll be here in march?
i believe so.
it's so sunnyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
**** you sun.
go away.
but actually,
i don't mind you.
this music goes along with you perfectly.
damn it.
song ended.
another song.
there we go.
silence is weird.
i like it most of the time though.
ahhhh.
this song makes me want to run around naked in the sun and throw glitter in the air.
i was suppose to cover my face in glitter.
o.O
someday i'll do it.
or maybe ride a horse naked?
hm.
choices.
:p
the woodpecker's gone.
hm.
wonder if he got full.
i want balloons.
balloons and glitter.
wtf.
that's weird,
for lack of a better word.
well that stuff is weird for a girl who likes to stare at blood drip from her cut.
i should paint.
i want a self portrait.
of a nude me though.
what's with me and nudity?
the ****?
is it conceited?
probably.
but bleh.
i could get a model i suppose.
but that'd require me going out of the house to find one.
mirrors work just fine.
frida used em.
i love frida.
i should move to mexico and paint like her.
hm.
i'd like to try painting a mural.
i did once.
kinda.
it was removed though.
****ers.
do you have any idea how ****ing sore i was afterwards?!
hmph.
no one appreciates my ****.
/:
then why do i paint?
for yourself.
duh.
oh andres.
i love you.
i think you're stronger than bianca.
wait.
who the **** is talking now?
a third character.
oh the excitement.
:D
nice to meet you third person.
or are you just the narrator?
hm.
good enough.

I did it on a piece of paper, and it wasn't pretty.

if i did it on a piece of paper it'd be wayyy uglier too.
i censor it down a bit for the forums.
:p