Rachel's Place II
Group Hog
I'm in a terrible mood, but I shouldn't complain because it could be
worse. But what am I in a bad mood about? Well, the good news is, it
has nothing to do with Bob Dylan. The man doesn't owe me sh*t, I
couldn't care less, maybe he's singing about me, maybe not, logically
since TOOM, but with the visions I've had on speed, and even not,
anything is possible (before). I guess if it was in there, in his
mind, you can't sue him for that. Anyway, it's not about money, it's
about, I just get upset some times, and wish he could make it all
bettter, and he could, just by being Bob Dylan. Oh well.
Anyway, what's up today is my refridgerator isn't running cold. (Hey,
did any of you ever make crank calls when you were kids? Me n' my
friends did that all the time. I don't remember what we said, but we
were REALLY bad. Oh G-d. Anyway, we never used this silly one, is your
refridgerator running, or why, yes it is, well, then you better go
catch it, no we were REALLY bad, and they believed us, I must have
blocked it out, I sorta remember, oh G-d, it was like about winning
money and sex!)
But what I'm wondering is, did Leanne f*ck up my refridgerator on
purpose. I was really mad at her for last week, I called to see if she
was coming, she came early, I let her in (I took the key back when I
had to fire her for stealing, she confessed, it wasn't my
imagnination, then when I took her back, because she is so g-ddamn
good at cleaning, I never gave her a new one, and what a waste, at the
time, I was so upset and traumatized, whatever, I changed the locks.
Anyway, she doesn't have a key) Anyway, I let her in, and went back to
bed, and when I got up two hours later she was totally gone, she
didn't do ANYTHING. So I was mad, and wrote a note, and that included,
like, you could have done the fridge, I saw crumbs in there on the
shelf, etc... (she didn't even vacuum, the microwave was still dirty,
she didn't even "touch up" except the counter in the kitchen, Jeez!)
Anyway, so I am wondering, did she f*ck up my refridgerator because
she was resentful or something, she did it yesterday. Also, I only
have these 7-11 sweetners (she went down there, took my card, without
permission, i had to check the bank to make sure she didn't use it for
herself, AGAIN, and have not very many stamps (looking for them for
mother's day cards for moms and aunts) and I'm thinking she is
stealing from me again. UGH!!!!
What's wrong with my refridgerator?
WHY, G-D, WHY????????
Rachel
I didn't mean to start this as Group Hog.
Well, I guess it's apporpriate.
Although, I seriously don't see why people can't write around me. I
guess I have seriously offended too many people or something.
Sorry. :(
I guess I'm too obscene or self-obsessed or something?
Well, I'm just in a bad mood, so I need to write. I'm going to lose
all my groceries in the fridge. Has that ever happened to you? Pain in
the arse, huh? It's probably never happened to Bob Dylan. I would hope
not. He'd probably throw a hissy fit and start wiping his melting food
on the walls or something.
I'm also in a bad mood because my eating is out of control. Yuck, I
don't like having to tell you that. I hate being fat. I really wanna
lose weight, and the doctors don't want to help, because they don't
think I deserve it, like, some kind of plastic surgery, because they
say, you are just going to gain it back.
That is such BULLSH*T! They just don't like me, because I look like a
fat, obnoxious, arrogant, self-obsessed person.
Maybe I am.
I dunno.
Ok, seriously, if my posts bother people, can't they like weed me out
somehow, haha? No, I mean it. Why do they have to let me keep on
bothering them, somehow. Can't they work around me, or something? I
can't believe that I, myself, have ruined RMD.
I suppose it's possible. I mean, damn, I feel like a f*cking exile,
although I know that when I go out to 12 step meetings or something
(the only social outlet I know of where I feel like I can sorta fit
in) I make friends. I guess it's just hard to keep them. I don't know
why. I guess it's because that requires a lot of effort or need or
something, and I go back to isolating, and being lazy, etc... I mean,
life just doesn't mean enough for it to be about 12 stepping my way
through it, socially. I guess I'm just bummed about not feeling good
enough about myself, and possibly truly not BEING good enough, to get
married and have children.
I don't wanna do that, and I'm hurt about it, that I can't pass that
on, the wonderful childhood that I had, and possibly even more, and I
just don't wanna be an L.A. 12 stepper. I guess I fell in love with
Bob Dylan, and that's that.
Even though he's an animal.
I guess I am, too.
But at least he had children.
Maybe instead of
Bob Dylan
1941-2061
He was really cool.
it could read:
Bob Dylan
1941-2061
Husband, father
I don't know.
Maybe he's right.
Just an unmarked grave would be best.
I don't know.
I certainly would never want to see it.
I can't even handle it yet.
Right now I have to learn how to handle my father's impending death.
Bye,
Rachel
Rachel
I guess I meant it would read:
Ex-husband to two women, father of 6, that we know of...oh yeah, and
one aborted fetus.
Rachel
or was it an embryo?
Rachel
i'm just laughing at Bob Dylan.
Honestly. :)
When I think of the others involved, it's not funny.
Sorry. :)
and P.S. I think it's ok to make fun of, and laugh at Bob Dylan,
because he knows I worship him. What else am I gonna do? Write Dylan
is Great over and over and over?
Rachel
and then when I think of the other people involved, I'm like, oh, it's
not funny at all.
It's sad.
Please forgive.
?
(except for Bob Dylan. i don't know, it's like, i think he is so cool,
i just can't imagine him taking me seriously, and being hurt...?)
Rachel
there was a typo there not "or why, yes" i meant "oh why, yes"
ok, can't make such a short unfunny post.
i've got all these mother day cards to send, and not enough one cent
stamps to do it. i'm WAY to lazy to go out to 7-11 and buy the stamps.
it is SO HOT here, it's SCARY.
Seriously, when I was out yesterday with Ken, I thought, OMG, I bet
this is how I am going to die. From overheating.
Well, so what's new?
Oh shit, I'm totally out of things to say, and I am such a f*cking
hog, I have totally posted too much today. I'm sorry to the people who
said I should do a blog, and go away from RMD. Seriously, but I really
want Bob Dylan to read it, or people, or something, I honestly don't
think anybody would go to my blog. Maybe if I think about that
carefully, I realize I am saying, I want to FORCE people to read it,
because I am so alone, I don't care if I get good feedback, or
negative feedback. That's just not true. I get SO HURT when people say
mean things, and I guess I deserve anything I get, but I just like it
here, RMD, because it's a Bob Dylan group. OK???????????? Jeez. SORRY.
Ok, that's juvenile, and I am just a big fat baby, just like Bob
Dylan. He's a little skinny baby, who sucked his thumb for so long,
that's why his teeth stick out.
Who knew that acting like a baby would make you have the coolest
looking mouth around, and talk like the coolest person in the world,
and be a part of you being the coolest person in the world.
Yay Bob!
Thanks for being a great big asshole and not calling me.
Oh, I don't care.
You're ugly anyway.
That's why I gained all this weight.
To be worthy of your ugliness.
I'm worthy, Bob! I'm worthy!
Call me.
I-800-PHATRACHEL.
Rachel
>
> - Show quoted text -
PHAT as in FAT and not too clever. :(
Rachel
>
> Yay Bob!
>
> Thanks for being a great big asshole and not calling me.
>
> Oh, I don't care.
>
> You're ugly anyway.
>
> That's why I gained all this weight.
>
> To be worthy of your ugliness.
>
> I'm worthy, Bob! I'm worthy!
Oh Bob, you're not ugly. I just said that because you are a weak old
man and I was trying to hurt you.
Rachel
>
> Oh Bob, you're not ugly. I just said that because you are a weak old
> man and I was trying to hurt you.
THAT WAS A JOKE, YOU STUPID IDIOT!!!!!!!!
Rachel
These last two posts have made me incredibly depressed. It took all my
happiness away. :(
Now I'm in a bum mood. :(
Sorry for posting so much, too.
Hope somebody else posts soon...
Bye. :(
Rachel
Rachel
These last two posts have made me incredibly depressed. It took all my
Group Hog
I'm sorry for the double post. Doesn't this seem like a contradiction.
Well, I have more things to say, and I had to switch to Group Hog,
this is so bad it's funny.
You know what just ocurred to me for the first time while writing
something under Rachel, and it wouldn't go through, or I nixed it, I
forget, I realized something about Ziglveidt's suggestion to name a
thread "Rachel's Place." SOMEONE NEW COMING TO THE BOARD AND SEEING
THAT, OMG, THAT'S AWFUL!!!!!!!
I mean, like, what they would expect at BOBDYLAN.com.
I FEEL SO STUPID.
I AM STUPID. :(
Thanks a LOT, Ziglveidt.
I wonder how everybody else reacted?
I wonder if they were laughing at me because of how stupid I am?
Probably.
I laugh at saying stupid things here, too, so, whatever.
oh, i have text in the copy memory, or whatever it is, and i'm going
to read it again, and hopefully it's worth posting, in my pitifully
stupid opinion.
no, oops, i forgot what it was, it's for another thread.
CRIPES! I almost copied this thread. I have to risk it. Oh great.
Keepin' me my fingers crossed!
Group Hog
me think of this place, and laugh,
"This is a nighmare. A social studies nightmare."
Group Hog
it just got me thinking, maybe this was all orchestrated by some
Jewish conspiracy, and to get Bob Dylan, and ruin his sex life. No,
just dreaming there, how about, to ruin RMD, what was once the life
blood of bobdylan.com?
G-d, I hope I didn't ruin it for everyone. :/
Sorry Mr. Dylan.
Group Hog
sorry, i was just musing out loud i guess.
i wasn't trying to be funny, or terribly interesting, or profound.
oh, how i wish i could shut up.
maybe god from bobdylan.com was right.
maybe i need a vibrator.
and bob from bobdylan.com was right, too.
a thirty something mentally ill young woman who spends all day posting
senseless material on the Internet has nothing to offer him.
Good-bye, and good riddance, to myself.
I've practically already driven so many people away, I don't even
wanna know how many.
Yikes. :/
Thanks to all the rest! :)
Group Hog
don't worry.
i hate myself.
Group Hog
phone with Goober, just kidding, Gubitz, and we had a good time.
Anyway, oh god, I seriously have nothing to say. I was just in a good
mood and came in here automatically, sat down, and postitioned myself
here at the end of Rachel's Place II.
Haha, that's kinda funny, like this is where I belong like a dog or
something. Here I am, barking for Mr. Dylan. WOOF WOOF.
Oh, shut up. I know he doesn't read this. It's just FUN to pretend
that he does. OK?
Dear Mr. Dylan,
I know you are never going to call me. I know you are not reading
this. I know I am just living this fake fantasy life that has no
meaning, not true, am overweight, true, and that makes me think that
other person is right about me being stupid.
Well, I guess I am.
Good thing this happened, otherwise I might have been able to go out
there, fit and healthy, but stupid, and attract a man and make
babies.
Instead, I am locked in my closet pretending to be writing letters to
Bob Dylan, who is really out there doing drugs and banging bitches and
being a junkie rock star, and doesn't read this shit. Why should he.
Is it like the sex he is having all the time? I don't think so.
Actually, what just occured to me, is he is with somebody who is SO
MUCH BETTER than I am, so much more pleasant and fun to be around,
smarter, better looking, the whole thing. This is so stupid I wish I
were dead.
Fuck me.
Bye.
Group Hog
Changing my name so much and making people have to look.
I mean, OMG, that might have been SOOOOOOOOO ANNOYING.
I wish this Internet thing had never happened to me. :(
(I was just thinking of it in terms of someone looking at the board
and sometimes not knowing for sure if it's me or not, and that being
like such a pain in the *ss that they would leave, not come back.)
big sigh.
hard life.
shouldn't complain.
hate myself again. :(
later...
Group Hog
would have liked a setlist to feed my obsession, and he's giving me
nothing.
I have no idea where he is or what he is doing.
I don't like it.
Well, I'm not going to try and find out like I'm some stalker or crazy
fan. I'm just saying I miss him, is all. :(
It's like he's gone.
Good-bye Mister Die-wan, where ever you are... :(
Rachel
the truth is, we don't. we need bob. the world revolves around bob.
bob bob bob bob bob bob bob.
bobby go round.
like a ferris wheel.
i don't think i'd like to ride in a ferris wheel with bob.
it's beneath him.
and so am i.
and so are you.
he is the top.
he's all up there alone, except for his slaves.
actually, we are all his slaves.
he commands us.
he is great.
all hail the great bob dylan.
King Bob Lives On!
Hurray for Bob!
Yay Bob!
Go Bob!
ok, that's enough...
Rachel
My short-term memory. I was on the phone with Gubitz, again, and sort
of not remembering certain things.
Hold on. It just ocurred to me that the reason I didn't remember them
is because we did not in fact discuss those details. I thought it was
because I forgot. I mean, it tripped me out so much, I couldn't focus
100% on the conversation. It was casual, though, no biggie. Hey, it's
5:24! Hello to you, too, little bobby dylan! :) the cutest little boy
in the whole world. :) :) :)
anyway, thank G-D for bob dylan. Seriously. He like gives me a reason
to want to live, even if I never see him again.
grateful for the computer, and the information, including dylanpool.
thank you thank you thank you. :)
Oh darn. I looked and it's 5:25, and I'm mad. Bobby's gone. Well, at
least he popped in to say hello, and remind me of how cute he is. :)
Rachel
me is because he is so fully satisfied with drugs that he can get that
are better than us common folk.
Probably... :(
That makes me feel so bad. :(
I mean, I chose Bob over drugs, but maybe he chooses drugs over love,
or they are love to him, and that's why he doesn't have emotional
needs or something.
whatever, babbling again.
sorry. this was inspired by seeing gabriel's post. sorry, i didn't
read that other thread much. sorry.
bye.
(aren't you sick of me, yet? :( seriously. ?)
Rachel
the list for number of posts is double the next person below me.
Guess I better slow down.
Sorry.
Today was kind of a loser of a day for me.
Still is.
Everything I wrote seems kinda superfluous, unnecessary, verbal vomit.
Rachel
whoa, this is tripping me out. posts have disappeared off the board.
it's like traveling backwards in time. the past 45 minutes wiped out.
maybe they'll take it all away.
:/
Rachel
The last 45 minutes or so (hour? less? more? appr....) keep getting
wiped away, then come back, on the board.
scares me, then makes me so grateful, when they come back.
today's a messed up day, it feels like.
it's 5:49, almost....
Rachel
Google is out of order.
I'm out of order.
Reminds me of Basement Tapes, that song, about how to live, have vague
memory, could look it up, don't feel like it, you know which one I
mean.
It's 5:52.
Mmmm.
I met the beautiful Bob Dylan when he was 52.
Mmmmm, was he BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :) :) :) :) (front AND
back, hahahahahahahahahhaahahahaha I MET BOB DYLAN I MET BOB DYLAN,
CAN"T STOP GRINNING FROM EAR TO EAR, AM ALL LIT UP FROM INSIDE<
BEAMING< I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, I MET BOB DYLAN, I MET BOB DYLAN,
WHOOOOOHOOOOOO< YIPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE<
HURRAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOL!
bye,
Rachel :) :) :) :) (the happiest manic-depressive in the world!)
Rachel
Uh, no?
Oh, ok....
(ok, really not sure. maybe i am... :) )
Rachel
got here, and my posting like ruined it or something?
Because if that's what I did, I didn't know about it, I still don't
see how it was done before, or even how people are doing it now.
G-d, I feel really dumb.
Anyway, I love Bob(by).
I LOVE BOB DYLAN!!!!!!!!!!!
I want everyone to know.
BOB DYLAN IS THE BEST!!!!!!!!!!!
YAY BOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(oh well. what good does it do? nuthin'.)
Rachel
it, and start new posts? This is all too confusing to me. I'm just an
unfrozen caveman housewife and this world overwhelms me and taxes my
feeble mind.
OK, anyway, oh G-d, this is so bad about my father.
You know, one reason I post about him here is because of everything
that happened, and his looks which I never really noticed before I met
Bob, well, the hair, yes, (and didn't know what Bob looked like until
I met him, inserted), anyway, father, silver hair, blue eyes, I think
of him as like one step above Bob Dylan, as far as who is relevant in
my life, but this is only when I then forget about the rest of my
family. :/
He doesn't tell me details, but it's just so hard to handle, ok,
honestly, it's SCARY. It is SO SCARY that he has something inside him
that is going to kill him soon. It makes me afraid of my own body,
too.
You know, that's one of the things I love and admire so much about Bob
Dylan. Nothing scares him. Nothing shakes him. He can handle anything,
it seems, at least, on the stage. Maybe it's not realistic to think
that that extends to his personal life, but it almost seems like he is
being handled, and protected, and whoever "they" are, kinda
orchestrate who comes in and out of his life, and like I just said,
that he is "protected." I don't know if that's true or not. I think it
is for the most part. But then I think about his tantrums, and I'm
like, why? And I'm just amazed at the way he can be so unaffected on
stage, and so out of control off it.
Well, that's all.
Oh G-d, my father is going to die.
Fuck, it's scary.
Rachel
Well, I'm all alone and bored and restless so I thought I'd send a
shout out to whoever dares enter here and read the perilous journies
of Rachel from point A to nowhereseville. That doesn't sound so
perilous. Maybe it's to an unknown destination, and that would make it
incredibly perilous, because it leaves open too many options, some
fearsome and undesirable.
But even just venturing through here I guess is dangerous, as
Ziglveidt and I myself have evidenced, that sounds like a funny way to
say it. He with a mild heart attack, and me getting mentally tortured
(to the point of needing emergency meds, too, not saying that being on
amphetamine, legal and/or street didn't cause some of it). possibly
totally deservedly so, I'm not saying I didn't do something to deserve
it, not sure what, maybe just by being me, maybe it's just my
conscience, maybe it's paranoia, not really sure, don't really care
right now, still can't stop reading and writing in RMD, coming back to
the group over and over no matter how many times I tell myself, that's
it, I quit, I'm never going back there, I don't need it, I can be
totally happy without it. But it never works. :)
Anyway, this should be about Bob Dylan, and it's not. All my writing
should be about Dylan, but then I forget, or maybe I just can't help
it, or maybe I don't really know, anyway, and my other personality
takes over, and I become Mrs. Bob Dylan III, or whatever, and it's all
about me.
Not that Bob is all about himself. That was just a joke. Not a very
funny one, I give you that. I'm struggling and scraping for things to
say, and nothing is coming to mind. I didn't come in here because I
had something to say. I just needed to get the hell out of the living
room for a second, to stretch, in my incarceration here in my little
place, with nowhere to go, nothing to do, a meaningless, empty world
around me, turning, turning, time marching on, waiting to die. That's
kinda how it is around here in Rachel's place, referring in this
instance to my apt./condo, whatever.
Talk to you later.
Bye.
Rachel
are taking him with us back to the planet Bantar, and will honor him
as the King he deserves to be. We don't like the way you ignore him
when he is on vacation. He just sits there on his couch, like Rachel
will as soon as RMD is shut down, and nobody is entertaining him,
fawning over him, showing him the love and respect he deserves, for
the man that he is and was and always will be, Jesus Christ.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Rachel the Secretary for Rachel the Bored
P.S. Somebody please kill me. This wasn't funny.
Rachel
Are you having sex right now?
That's all I want to know.
Love,
Rachel
Dear Bob,
I mean with a woman.
Love,
Rachel
Dear Bob,
That wasn't a joke. I think I'm possessed. Or I have that new word, I
forget what it is, the one that's made up and won as part of a list
for a Washington Post contest, anyway, the definition is (I can't
think of a good way to say this, ugh) a stupid idea coming to you in a
way where you think it is a lot more clever or funny or deep or
profound or intelligent, than it really is. I think I experience this.
I don't know why. It keeps changing. Except for one thing. D'you know
what that is...?
I love you. :)
Love,
Rachel
P.S. Has the foot of pride gone down yet? Probably for others. Man,
why can't I be normal, and socialize like a normal person? It must be
the disease of conceit, and the way I think I have fallen in love with
my notion (accurate? untrue?) of Bob Dylan.
Dear Bob,
Emergency! I want to be with you! Please hurry!
Ever Yours,
Rachel :)
Group Hog
Hmm, so is this what other people are to me, like liquid draino? That
doesn't seem like a very nice way to be. Maybe it's more like, I need
them to drown me out. Because I've flooded the board, like that guy
Martin, he must be certainly just as crazy as I am.
Don't sell me a gun. It's better not that I have a gun. I get suicidal
and might shoot myself in the head. No rational person could logically
believe this statement beyond a reasonable doubt. Is that logical, to
say it that way? What am I saying? I'm not quite sure, and I feel
certain that gettting stoned had something to do with it. It's not
making me happy, it's not making me giddy, and I feel the need to
write whether I smoke it or not. But I think it IS dulling my brain.
Sorry for that. I mean, anyway, where was I going with this gun thing.
It was a joke, and I didn't finish. Shoot. oh haha, what a clever pun,
no, it was an accident, oh, that made me want to make a joke about a
gun accident, but it was too creepy, hey, I don't scare you, do I, g-d
I hope not, I mean, I scare myself, but it's all true, not quite sure
what I'm referring to, anyway, yeah, so bob said the word nigger.
anyway, i was going to say, hey i'm a crazy nigger because i wanted to
go into the computer, "bang bang bang bang" (because of the lyric no
one doubted that he pulled the trigger) is that dumb or what? i don't
know, i like guns, i think they're fun, and it would be neat to have
one, or a cap gun, to make the noise, but I don't have any safe/
outdoor place to do it.
I'm a pretty good shot, too. (Israeli army training)
Sorry for posting so much. I am ready to stand trial for my crimes
against humanity.
May I have a chair, because I'm really fat?
Thanks.
P.S. Sorry for posting so much. Thanks for
reading! :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) (there, that's ten, i only got
ten!)
P.S.S. Sorry for being so obnoxious and insensitive and taking over
RMD, sort of. It's just that I'm madly in love with Bob Dylan, and
I'll do anything to be with him, even if it's delusional!
Group Hog
a love that's pure
you want a draino-ed down
love
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Group Hog
I feel bad for him.
I kinda picture him all alone, lying on his bed, sadly holding his
flaccid penis in one hand, wishing I were there with him so he could
get laid.
Poor Bob.
Group Hog
Help! I need my draino people!
Group Hog
Ok, I've stopped laughing...
Group Hog
And what about Mr Jinx, hmm? Telling me to "Rave on, Mrs. Dylan!" Just
who does he think he's talking to? How DARE he speak to me that way! I
am Mrs. Booby Dylan, and don't you ever forget that.
Group Hog
>
> - Show quoted text -
Too bad that wasn't funny.
I tried.
I failed.
Orders: Return to Headquarters for immediate execution.
Group Hog
I can't sit still and rest in front of the t.v., i like to watch
movies on cable and that's about the most i can do, but i am addicted
to this or something, i can't stop, it invigorates me, makes me feel,
makes me laugh, makes me think, makes me contemplate, makes me ponder,
makes me query, makes me EVERYTHING, like, ALIVE.
Looking at that made me laugh.
I don't know. Maybe there is something wrong with me, or I am
possessed. But I laugh a lot. It's fun. But it's so STRESSFUL and
TIRING. Too bad it doesn't knock me out though at night when I want to
go to sleep. It's always a struggle. Maybe if I could fill my nights
with passionate love-making with Mr. Dylan, I could sleep.
Respectfully,
Rachel
Rachel
I'm so tired.
I'm sorry, but sometimes I crack myself up.
Not now.
fee fie fo fum, I smell the blood of a frigid nun.
fee fie fo fum, too bad bob dylan will never cum
fee fie fo fum, that is so fucking dumb
fee fie fo fum, bob dylan is screwing everyone
I think I'm the one that needs to get laid.
Maybe just a lot of serious masturbating and I'd be normal again.
I doubt it.
I like being crazy about Bob Dylan.
But it is tiring. :(
Rachel
>
> - Show quoted text -
Don't worry. I'm not hysterical.
I make sure I masturbate at least three times a day.
Group Hog
spill it here. it's concerning me that he is evil and sadistic, and
was f*cking with me about the title, in the sense of, I wouldn't
realize what it does to the sense of what is this rmd in bobdylan.com,
and I don't like the way it looks.
I much prefer Rachel's Thread, and so I changed it, ok, honestly, make
that, will change it, shortly...
Alright. There. It's changed.
And this is my thread, so don't nobody come in here and try and hijack
it from me.
Ok, thanks.
Over and Out.
Roach, the co-pilot
Group Hog
i sat down here and completely forgot what i was going to say.
a nuclear fart just went off in my brain or something.
Group Hog
what would you do?
what would Jesus do?
what would Bob do?
can anyone here testify as to witnessing the actual phenomenon, and
after effects of a bob dylan nuclear brain fart?
Group Hog
I can't believe I'm spending my life doing this. I know Bob Dylan
isn't reading this.
Fuck him.
He's not a real man.
Group Hog
dylan these days, and what is he doing?
actually, you know what? that was totally unfunny, it was never meant
to be, and honestly, i just don't care.
i'm not a stalker and bob dylan is living his own private life, at
least to me, and is doing his own thing, not touring, and apparently
he doesn't want to be found. I mean, it's none of my business to ask
about Bob Dylan, I just can't handle it. And when I hear things, I
always listen with a sense of apprehension, because I don't know what
it is I'm going to hear, if I think I want to hear it or not, I think
you might understand me, know what I mean.
Well, anyway, G-d, I sure hope people here don't think I'm loony and
goofy all the time...
i know, the world does not center around fat rachel. but maybe it all
revolves around her and her great big fat body.
Group Hog
realize that I am afraid of my father's funeral, afraid for people to
see me, and it has to do with my weight, at least, I think, there's
also this element of that I am ashamed he died on me. Not of him. Of
me. I'm feeling like I being left, left behind, you know? Like he's
abandoning me, omg, I almost just said instinctively again. Well, I
probably uncovered that in therapy before, just kinda forgot about it,
I've explored so many ideas, not to be embarrassingly brown-nosish,
but the Kingdoms of Experience, in the precious winds they ROT.
Sorry, but it's true.
My brain is probably such a wreck, you would be horrified to see it,
as a doctor.
I dunno, I still feel like I'm here, though.
You know, sane, still me, but definitely odd, eccentric, that's what
you'd say for bob, but for me, it's psychotic, delusional, paranoid
etc...
whatever...
have a nice day...
bye....
sorry to end that way, wasn't thinking about other people reading
this. sorry.
ok, the end.
Rachel
Anyway, I'm in a really good mood, a sweet mood, tinged with a little
sadness, though.
I *think* I have solved the mystery of the coffee in the freezer.
And probably, then, the burrito, too.
And I had already solved, in my mind, Ken's Pepsi, but I didn't feel
before that it was worth mentioning.
Anyway, somehow it came up with Leanne, oh I know, to solve the
mystery of, where did all these old 7-11 sweetners in my big sweetner
mug come from? When Leanne finally remembered (they came out of me
dumping my handbag on the entryway table looking for something
before), I was really happy, then mentioned to her the coffee thing,
and Leanne finally came up with, didn't your mom buy it when she was
here? and that is so plausible, so I was like, do you remember ever
cleaning up the freezer and it not being visible, and then moved it
into the door on a little shelf all by itself, and she said no, but I
feel so sure it was my mom, that I am willing to accept that it was
there, but I ignored it, and it left my consciousness of it, you know
what I mean, and it hit me coinicidentally after going out one day all
day, coming back, and seeing it.
And I am so willing to believe this, I sadly acquiesce that maybe I
ate the Amy's burrito. (I explained my sense of cause and effect
between why the coffee showed up and then I thought one of two long
remaining burrito's disappeared). Anyway, I think I musta eaten it and
forgot that, too. I am willing to say maybe I don't look in the door
at all when I open the freezer, but not consciously aware of this, so
that explains everything.
Sorry for being crazy.
Rachel
I seriously hate starbucks coffee, and I had totally worn out my taste
for Amy's Breakfast Burrito's, I had tons of them, and there were two
left, and I had switched a little more junky food, I mean, I was sick
of them even to the point that looking at them made me sick of them, I
am remembering this now, too, I mean, I remember times opening the
freezer door and seeing them and it totally bothering me even just to
see them, knowing what they taste like and all, and having totally
lost the taste for them, temporarily, as I said, I go in cycles, or
maybe you just can see that.
Anyway, I also think I may remember eating the burrito for the first
time in a long time. But it was so out of the ordinary, I forgot.
The point is, it's not that I am so weak minded or something, it's
that I was totally annoyed at having these three things in my freezer,
the coffee, the two Amy's burrito's, and everything else was in the
main compartment, and I just blocked out seeing them, because I don't
like them and don't know what to do with them, ha ha. But going out
with Ken was a fun excursion, and I think when I came back I was in
such a different mood opening the freezer, like, you know, I'm so glad
I'm home, I was just looking around in an airhead way to find figure
out what I was going to do, dinner, eventually, anyway, I opened the
freezer and looked around like I had no idea what I wanted, what was
in there, consequently, and looked at the door for the first time in a
very long time, and was just blown away.
Rachel
I was trying to be funny, and it didn't work, but then i read it
right, and laughed, then deleted the following paragraph about it not
being funny and that it was stupid, if not mildly amusing. but then i
read it and laughed, so i deleted the paragraph.
now i am going to go drink my coffee. alert the media!
Rachel
i'm sensitive
and i'd like to stay that way
Rachel
yes, i am mad.
Group Hog
as in insane.
aw, oh, oh this is sad. this is making me think of the way they treat
the poor pigs they use to eat, the way a pig's nose is like 200 X a
human or something, and they house them all together or something, or
maybe it had something to do with something the smell of the waste or
something, and that's what does it, but the pigs are like clinically
insane or something, from the smell, and it drives them mad, as is
evidenced by their behavior.
Think about the way the Native Americans ate the heart and drank the
blood of the animals they overtook in their hunts, to take on it's
energy, or life-blood, or something, maybe there is a term, not sure
what it is, anyway, I really believe in this greatly, even though I
don't follow it in my diet, really, so I probably am more aggressive
etc.. from the stuff they put into the animals, but anyway, the pigs
are clinically insane, i just wanted to say, the irony, i don't eat
pig.
HEY! What about like innoculation or something. Like, since I am
insane, I eat insane pig meat, and they like cancel each other out,
and then I become sane.
Maybe I'll try that.
Ew, I can't bring myself to wanna eat pig.
Oh great, I say this publicly on the Internet and now some psycho, who
probably doesn't exist and I am creating him, sort of, anyway decides
to come to my house and we have a repeat of the hanukah story.
i wouldn't die for it, i must confess. i'd eat it.
i think.
actually, maybe that's like a gift.
free help in committing suicide.
i'm not kidding.
that could come in handy one day! LOL!
Group Hog
i emphasize the somethings because of the way it seems like everything
keeps changing, the way i see things keeps changing, information about
what i thought i knew, history, etc.. keeps changing, so maybe this
information about the pigs is moot. ?
Group Hog
>
> - Show quoted text -
or as in no longer true.
but i guess it wouldn't be moot (it was a poor word choice) in the
sense that i know i had a lesson about this from a reliable person, it
seemed.
whatever.
shut up rachel.
and you know that you are too stoned, as well, but are doing it to try
and self-medicate, seriously, i would be bouncing off the walls
without it. it helps me calm down.
Group Hog
>
> - Show quoted text -
but it dulls the brain. sorry. :(
(i'm rereading what i wrote, and it's like some weird way i chop up my
thinking, and in relation to time...whatever, i have lost the original
discovery and continued speaking off the the top of my head, which I
have already assured you, has been demolished by drugs.
Sad but true.
Rachel :(
Rachel
Bob, will you buy it for me?
And come in a raincoat, and be naked underneath, and we can play
housewife and repairman and get it on on the kitchen floor.
ha ha ha that's so funny i can't stop laughing. just kidding. i'm not
laughing at all. i'm stoned and nothing is funny right now. i'm in a
bad mood and i don't know why. i don't like the way i feel. not feel.
am. in a bad mood. what's wrong, oh yeah, the guy who was here. i
don't like that, that the fridge went south haha after only 7 years.
i'm not going to pay half of a new fridge for it.
actually, in the end, since i wasn't paying maintenance, i think it
comes out to about the same.
egads. don't really know. it's scary not having a brain that you can
rely on. :/ seriously.
or maybe it's just me.
i'm unreliable.
now i'm not sure what reliable means.
you can count on me to not count on me for anything.
i guess i'm reliable in a very bad way.
i totally suck.
i have no life.
this isn't funny.
this isn't a joke.
guess what?
great big stupid joke is better than being nice and trying to get on
with my life after bob dylan.
oh g-d, i tried sending this and it said error, and i just kept
pressing it over and over, oh g-d, what if they went through, i need
to figure out how to take them out, that would be the worst thing
possibly to happen, oh no, oh great, i'm going to be in hell if this
happens.
p.s. i had a p.s. i don't remember, just remembered, i don't know if
it's half, maybe it's less than half.
Rachel
The posts haven't shown up yet.
Maybe they won't.
If they do, good god, don't read them again.
Oh G-d, I need a life.
Someone, send me a life.
And the price of stamps are going up, so hurry up and don't use that
as an excuse for failure to comply with my desperate plea for help.
Rachel
takin' a toke
an' wouldn't ya know, my bowl got a poke-ah!
it's the best
bowl i've had yet
oh pokerman, you know what he wants!
oh pokerman, you don't show any repsonse! (i'm too stoned and/or
stupid to figure out some clever lyrics for this)
It's a Pokerman Bowl.
I think it's brass or something.
Rachel
smoking the pot, but there's a big difference, c'mon, you know it's
true, the chemicals, the toxins, whatever, oh, stop embarrassing
yourself Rachel, can't help it, that's G-d's destiny, G-d's justice
for me, eternal shame and humiliation, anyway, there's a big diff, and
you know it, and i know it, he knows it, and she knows it, and we know
it and they know it, anyway, I'm going a little nuts.
Big sigh. Long hard day.
Another day at the Factory. That's what it feels like.
Rachel
Another day at the Factory... Another day at the Farm.
That would be the Laugh Factory.
And the Funny Farm.
I look at things in weird ways, and laugh. It's very strange, I admit
it. I'm a little nuts. But sitting in front of the T.V. is boring.
Sorry, to myself. Whatever.
Bye.
Rachel
You don't like my attitude?
Bob Dylan was allowed to have whatever attitude he wanted, I see no
difference.
I don't know what his attitude is now, if I'd like it or not. Maybe he
doesn't have one, but just an incredible boner and is busy boning some
hot chick right now, as we speak.
So much for love....
Rachel
Oh great, I had something else to say, enough for a post. I mean, it
came to me as I was walking here, but then I sat down and forgot.
Oh, well, my side hurts, and so does my back. (that's what i was gonna
say)
oh, i guess these are kinda bad newsy things to say. i shouldn't say.
never mind.
whatever.
i don't care.
i don't care about people.
know what i mean? (oh, this is a dylan group. i thought it was a cute
joke. i guess dylan fans don't like cute. especially from such an ugly
person such as I.)
Rachel
Something about stupid, really don't wanna be that, I would take
insane and single forever, over stupid and marry bob dylan, i realize,
i was going to say, and friends with bob dylan, but i think i could
handle knowing i was stupid, but also having bob dylan for friend.
that would like give me confidence or something. i thought of that
before, how it would like help validate me (thinking over, c'mon
rachel, what is this all about?)
Rachel
i don't feel like posting anymore either.
i seriously think i am going to go take a nap.
oh god, i was just picturing myself in great big diapers with great
big safety pins. not a pretty picture. (because it made me feel like a
great big fat baby.)
bye all,
i know,
i'm completely insane,
Rachel :(
Rachel
don't look to me to fill the board.
i'm resting comfortably.
yeah right, i wish.
i'm going to lose my mind one day.
i'm pretty sure of this.
i mean, i hope not, but i think it might just happen.
well, back to the retreat site.
Rachel
situation, or maybe was just wandering around, I don't know, anyway,
big mystery, it's working again. That's a little complicated to figure
out. Well, not worth writing down.
Sorry so short.
Sorry to bother you.
Thanks for reading.
(sorry if it bothers you that i am smoking pot somewhat these days)
Hope I don't substitute something even worse for it one day.
Oh man, there's no hope for me, is there?
Bob Dylan doesn't even read this or care.
Well, at least a few people, do, I think, or at least are around.
I'm not all alone, which might help me calm down, I don't know.
Anyway, that's it.
Rachel
what i was trying to say is that if i didn't have rmd, the sense of
people around, i might be able to calm down. but i think maybe i'll
always sense people around, like, being super hyper self-conscious or
something. i don't know. whatever. good-bye (real impressive stuff
these days, not that i even remember what i've been writing, but other
stuff and being super incredibly embarrassed for my mental condition,
haha, not laughing because of being stoned, but because it's true, i'm
honestly a little nuts.)
Rachel
>
> - Show quoted text -
This might be a strange form of amphetamine withdrawal. i mean, i went
through the first part feeling heavy and tired and lethargic and
really blah, don't remember fully, but anyway, now I am like super
hyper, it seems. Now is when my body would normally be back on them
again, and being still and thinking or whatever. (thinking).
Sorry for talking like such an average person. that was a little
funny. g-d, i'm so tired. :(
Group Hog
New Day. Made a lot of posts in other threads.
Oh G-d, is this like going to turn into the crazy lady's computer
journal or something, splattered throughout rmd, the really crazy lady
whose brain ish jush a leeeeeeeeeeeddul bit f*d up?
Ok, maybe more than a leeeeeeeeeeedul bit.
Group Hog
Dylan.
That would do me forever.
Love,
Rachel
P.S. Thanks in advance?
Group Hog
I'm saying I hate you Bob.
HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE.
you know what I'm trying to say...
(i love you more than life itself, there, can't believe i said it)
Group Hog
maybe if i loved life more than you, i would drop this and try and
find another way of meeting you, but i just can't do it. won't? maybe
i'm scared.
i am.
bye. :/
Group Hog
>
> - Show quoted text -
what am i saying? this is the land of the dead or something?
well, only if bob dylan isn't here.
"don't put on any airs when you're down on Rue Morgue
Avenueuuuuuuuuuuuueeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"
Group Hog
>
> - Show quoted text -
this pot is making me have ideas that are wrong. i don't mean bad. i
mean, they are quite simply, wrong. incorrect. completely false. i
can't tell at this moment if this extends to my writing, i am too
stoned to remember what i wrote, or maybe i wouldn't remember all of
it anyway, and it's just me, i don't know, anyway, good-bye.
Group Hog
>
> - Show quoted text -
How can you expect me to remember something I said 5 minutes ago?
Group Hog
>
> - Show quoted text -
don't worry. i have a lot of brain left...
i think....
g-d, that's scary.
i get scared i'm gonna lose it, sometimes, seriously, in all ways.
getting old and dying scares me, and i think about it a lot.
it's nice to know you're not all alone.
thanks to this computer.
i feel weird adding on to that.
Rachel :)
Group Hog
can't sit still, am not that into the television. I wish I could be.
Seriously, like to slow the f*ck down and just relax. Maybe it's
because Bob is fun and exciting, who knows? What, is my computer Bob?
Maybe I think people are reading this, or I interpret it wrong, and in
a funny way. I'd so much rather be resting.
Your friend, maybe, i hope, i guess,
Rachel
Group Hog
Oh man, I ordered a pizza. I'm such a f*cking pig. Not because it's
pepperoni, and not that you even thought that either. I did, I thought
it after I said it. Anyway, yeah, I'm a great big fat pig, yeah, come
fuck me Bob Dylan, oh yeah, that's so attractive, and yeah, that's
fuck with no asterisk, yeah, fuck me you goddamn fat ass cunt!
(internal dialogue, made me cum, no just kidding.)
bye.
Rachel
Rachel
it's not pepperoni.
that ruined it for me reading it that way, thinking it was with
pepperoni. i don't know why.
it's onion with sesame. i like the pizza.
keith doesn't like it, with his toppings.
i was disappointed. :(
Rachel
(i sent it there the fast way)
(i threw it up)
(sorry)
(i know, it's not funny, it's not attractive, but man, i feel great)
Rachel
i feel better than i did EATING the pizza! :)
(sorry, am not condoning it. can't help it. can't control myself. must
eat. must eat pizza. ........)
Rachel
oh, i don't care.
i was never gonna get married, anyway, huh?
Rachel
>
> - Show quoted text -
i'm sensing that talking about this is revealing too much information.
TMI! TMI!
seriously, it's offensive, possibly.
just looking at me is offensive, i'm so g*ddamned fat.
it's totally humuliating.
hey dylan. be my inspiration to have a life by being my friend.
once a year.
hey, i'm trying...
or just day dreaming.
yes, i like that better.
leave the poor old man alone.
:(
bye.
Rachel :(
Rachel
>
> - Show quoted text -
i'm reading this and i'm feeling like a poor old man, myself.
well, times are hard, if you don't believe it you can follow your
nose, can you smell the doobage?
Over and Out
Roach from the Moach Motel
Rachel
>
> - Show quoted text -
"Qantas never crashed." Rachel the Rainwoman.
i am no longer amused with myself at all.
in bad mood.
didn't think last post was funny or funny enough, don't remember,
having trouble typing, feel relaxed but need to get out of bad mood,
wish and pray for peace, joy, and happiness, man, that seems like a
lot to ask for. health...now i feel guilty for asking for anything
more.
is that lame?
dunno.
later....
thanks for giving it a read.
Rachel
>
> - Show quoted text -
oh, i'm in such a bad mood, i just blanked.
i forgot why i came in here.
oh shit.
should i just say oh well and post this?
it's so embarrassing....
do it anyway...
ok...
bye...
Rachel
Rachel
Rachel
This is so crazy. This has to do with a very early memory that I told
about here a million years ago, and I just interpreted it differently.
Maybe what happened was not "oh, there's the song I like" hearing the
song, but maybe it was hearing the announcement, and catching it in
the air, as I described, "oh, that's the song I like."
sumding like that.
how am i supposed to remember.
i have severe brain damage, there's the phone, aba's pissed, so am i,
never mind, more dysfuctional family business...
oy vey.
Rachel
life is replete with another days. That didn't come out as I had
hoped. It's not pleasing to the ear. Oh well. That idea was born dead.
Well, what can I say. Back hurts like the devil. Got stoned, hope that
takes away the pain, yes, I can honestly say I am feeling better. Not
high. Just bettter. Pot doesn't get me "high," it changes the way I
feel and dulls the brain, as I have said a million times, sorry, am
always conscious of new readers, anyway, but I do think it puts me in
a better mood (pot). That's a good thing, right? I mean, I don't have
children to care for or anything, no responsibilities, hey people with
responsiblities are free, I'm a f*cking prisoner. I guess even birds
aren't free from the chains of the skyway though or something. Just
threw that in there to be minorly relelvant. I think I shall call this
piece of me, "Off the top of my head." I like that tremendously, and
use it rather frequently. Bob Dylan is so cute. :)
I wuv him to dee end of all thyme. tank woo bobby dyie-wam who don't
read this becuase he got a bigger brain den me, and is either reading
something else, or is shtuppin' (I don't really know what this means,
it just occured to me, I thought it meant a beating up, but now I'm
thinking it means to get fucked, probably because of the e-mails and
posts of marcoose. I'm not sure) anyway, where was I, ah yes, or, take
away shtuppin', although now i think it's f*ck, but I don't know,
sorry, anyway, getting it on with some young lazy skinny babe.
My coffee awaits me.
I am no longer in the mood to write. Or, put another way, all thought
has flown out of my head and is essentially gone.
There is nothing more to say.
I need to wait until it fills up again, with something, anything, to
bring me back to life.
This is the refuse of my body, it's not more thoughts. It's more of me
dying and rotting away and emptying out into the computer. It started
out as avaliable thoughts and has turned into dead body refuse. What
am I talking about? I don't know, I am desperately making things up
which aren't funny and don't mean anything because I am having fun
typing at the keyboard, and I don't want to leave. Oh drat, I'm having
fun, but saying nothing, I really should stop, G-d, this is
embarrassing, I'm really enjoying just typing at tke keyboard, I feel
like a secretary or something. I can't get a job as a secretary
because of my illness, I can't handle the stress, anyway, I'm too fat.
No, but seriously, I can't handle a job. Guess if I can't handle it, I
couldn't handle kids either. Probably. Unless the man were so rich he
could make it really easy for me. Would Bob Dylan ever do that for me?
Ok, no, forget it.
That's a really bad idea.
Sorry.
Now I am ashamed, and want to go.
Good-bye.
Well, I just read that whole thing over, and I think I could handle
kids, if I had support, including getting into shape again, which
would probably make me a million times more functional than I am now.
That sucks, huh, but it keeps me safe, I think, all by myself.
I guess I've been hurt so much I don't want to change going out again
and having a life, and I hope it comes to me, you know, and works out,
and I hope it's Bob Dylan.
I know, it's a delusion, I like having it, thanks for reading, sorry
to the rest who have left and/or quit reading, sincere apologies,
love,
Rachel
Rachel
Obivously when I said support, I was thinking of, "the love of Bob
Dylan" (not his finances)
Rachel
>
> - Show quoted text -
that just came to me while rereading it.
mm, that coffee was good, it warmed me up...
i think i'll go back and drink some more. sorry, not trying to be
annoying. feel that i am possibly very annoying, like a little
kindergardener (is that right. ok, haha, very funny, i don't really
know how to spell kindergarden, seriously, am too lazy too look up,
please don't hate me because I am beautiful, no haha, that's a joke, i
am so ugly because i am so fat, it's so horrible, that i even try not
to look in the mirror. i know, i should probably try dieting. i swear,
i can't even do it for one day. i try. i fail. well, i managed one
day. every day is a f*cking struggle to eat right. sucks, huh? feeling
lucky? i hope so...some anyway, i would hope....)
also, i'm not so sure my thinking is delusional. i mean, is it
possible that i am partially deluded, and sometimes not? that's kinda
weird, don't ya think?
Or is it more like a hope I have, that's transitional, or whatever?
Is it possibly that because it is a hope for the irrational or
impossible or something, that that makes me 100% delusional, even if
sometimes I don't believe it? How can you call me delusional when I am
feeling miserable and knowing that I am going to be alone for the rest
of my life? Or just that Bob Dylan is never coming back? I don't know.
Forget it. I don't care. Now I'm totally depressed. Bye. :(
(P.S. I don't think RMD makes me happy because of Bob Dylan most of
the time. Because I spend a good deal of time, some, writing about and
living other things besides Bob, I mean, my own small little life, and
the things that happen in it, or stories, and I write about it, and
that makes me happy, and I do it not thinking that I am happy because
Bob Dylan is coming back, or even believing that he is not even
reading it, but someone is, and since I feel at times that I am
talking to someone, I don't think that's delusional, lost my train of
thought, am stoned, don't shoot, anyway, think I sorta made my point,
even though I didn't finish the sentence. can't type. can't think.
making lots of typos and having to keep correcting them, better go, am
going to smoke more, too, am on day three not smoking, going crazy,
please don't hurt me, i'm sensitive and i'd like to stay that way,
thanks, good-bye.
sorry, really bad writing, too stoned to figure out how to fix it,
leaving it in for posterity, haha, just kidding.
Rachel
>
> - Show quoted text -
not smoking cigarettes.
:)
Rachel
Mom #1 wasn't home. Will have conversation with her later.
Mother #2: was home. Never really have much to talk about with her.
Makes me sad.
Yeah, I'm in a really sad mood. Oh, I'm so dperessed. Oh, I know why.
Because I just watched the beginning of American Wedding, and it made
me pine for romance in my life. (I've never actually seen the whole
movie all the way through) I now tell myself, to be relevant here,
that I am being manipulated by the media, that I could pick and choose
my own movies, and not allow myself to be influenced to remember
things that cause me to yearn for things I can't have. But I'm just
too f*cking lazy, and I just accept what comes to me, and don't really
do much of anything on my own. Well, I know writing is my favorite
thing in the whole wide world, so I am lucky to be able to do it.
I am even more lucky, in that I don't think I would do this for
myself. I duuunnnnnnnnnnooooooo, I like it so much I was thinking, I
would just do this for myself! Seriously, I think I would, if I had
to. :)
Alright, now I'm not having fun, I'm tired, I really would rather go
watch the movie.
SpaceCadet Rachel signing off.
Rachel
I was reading this over, and the "that sucks" I realize was based on a
thought not written down, my consideration of and negative assesment
over (that seems a weird way to say it, anyway) my general state of
not well-being, being all immobile, housebound, no life, well, no, ok,
i write and spend all day posting senseless material on the Internet,
oh, po me, yeah, my life is so bad, complain, complain, no, this is
great, I, maybe we, should consider myself/ourselves lucky, maybe, I
think.
Anyway, I'm making more coffee so I's got to buzz.
Thanks for reading.
Rachel.
Rachel
Ok, I'm back. It's just that I had phone calls, interruptions (well, I
had to call about the fridge, find out when it's coming, I realized
that my perfectly decorated fridge has to be de-decorized. And it's
not an easy job, those things are stuck on there, but can be removed,
with care, and I think you know what I mean by care, Bob Dylan, but
I'm not sure, so I will not order you to do it yourself.)
Oh, Bob doesn't read this.
Anyway, that leads perfectly into what I was going to say next.
I CAN'T BELIEVE PEOPLE READ THIS!!!!
This is like turning into the most inane blabber I've ever written, I
think I'm going to blame it on the pot, the ganga, the weed, the
hoochy, (lol., i just made that up, isn't that vagina or something?
i'm not too terribly hip, i don't know all these expressions about sex
and drugs. gee, sorry!), the mary-ja-wana, man!
This is like the f*cking housewives' journal, the empty headed
unmarried housewife....
This is too short. I can't do this to other people. It's not fair. I
should be writing like top quality submissions, stop using the word
like, and never mind because I accept that I am crazy and delusional
and not well educated, and poor in character, and all in all,
generally dysfuctional, this can never be better. STOP READING!!!!
STOP READING!!!!! I AM NOT WORTHY!!!!!!!! I AM NOT WORHY!!!!!!!!!!!!
just kidding around. ok, i'm gonna take this coffee which I haven't
touched and take us both back to basecamp, corner seat on the couch,
perched across from the television.
what a lamo.
what a waste of life.
what a waste of a human being.
Rachel.
Rachel
i'm sensing that you agree with me.