White sweatshirt Sunday, January 12, 2003 The white sweatshirt is awaiting its first stain. Blood pours into my mouth from eating candy and munching my own body in distress. Being old will be fun, but I don't have anything to prove, so what's the point of getting there. This mood indicates that I should drink lots of Coke tonight and then go to bed in one hour and thirty minutes or something. I want to get up early to purchase my books and read the opening chapters as assigned and to delve into the subjects as far as I feel drawn. Picture a man wearing a white sweatshirt and a white terry cloth towel worn around the waist as a skirt. This man has eagles that ride atop his shoulder. I wish I didn't need anybody, but I do. |
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