“Who shall measure the hat hate heat and violence of the poet’s heart when caught and tangled in a woman’s body?”

Close enough.

If you can’t trust the back of a box of Schnucks-brand food, who can you?

Sorry, I forgot for a second that you wouldn’t do what I would do.

“I'll be home for Christmas...”

I remember when I wished to have a recording of my entire life: a complete archive of every hour of every day. Which because of obvious recursion would be impossible to ever completely actually view; but it would allow me to never leave any piece of history behind. Sometimes I would explicitly want the recollection to be from a first person perspective, recording the thoughts I was just as curious along with my actions; but mostly third person view would have been sufficient, with the logic being that *I* would be able to recall or recreate my thoughts.

I remember when I knew why I wished to have this.

I remember when I used to be nostalgic.

“...If only in my dreams...”

It is surprisingly difficult to select a link as representative of a year. The crucial sticking point seems to be how to resolve the ambiguity of significant December creations. On one hand, they represent the culmination of the preceding; on the other they resonate and are popularized in the following. The preceding year can be viewed in it, but in the following year can it be viewed. And the very nature of winter break contributes to its being mostly likely for significant candidates to be released then, with study breaks being sought through finals week, and with a period of intermingling as mass migrations mix, connect, and reconnect friends, schoolmates, and family members. It is a time of tinder, with the best chance for a random link to spark a wildfire of interest.

I don’t live here. I just live here.

The best way for me to not do something is to tell someone I’m going to do it.
I live in darkness and my dreams are shadows, but all I want is pannychous.
This year I resolve to have it be mine.

New Year’s Eve party tonight, 10pm, 6625 Wash. Ave, Apt. 1. Cell if any questions, or just show up.

And like that, the maker is met.

“And by hang, you mean make.”

Neutral.

The Octopus Method is simultaneously both too good and makes perfect sense to be only applied to just cheating at Scrabble.

“Is [Britney] making another mistake?”
“Is it really Jen in the topless video?”
“Did Theseus slay the Minotaur?”

The more things change, the more they stay the same. Back to the bookstore.

Brokering an exchange between Z[] and P[] about Keanu Reeves and Jesus Christ, in which all participants are surprisingly sober. A Christmas to remember.

“That was an entertaining movie in a stupid kind of way.”

:(

If I want to smile, I’ll pick up a colon, toss in a right parenthesis, and tilt my head to the side, tyvm. None of this newfangled non-disabling of graphical smileys nonsense that the AIM 6 wants to impose upon me.

Santa comes early this year to 6625 Wash Ave: Internet's working.

(Settling into winter quarters; stop by if around.)

[More like Santa comes on time.]

I have stories to be written, letters to be sent, books to be read, and lies to be told.

Packing.

Sufganiyot: schwamm for the holidays.

“It’s my fault for not starting earlier on this.”
Don't let being self-critical get in the way of blaming others.
“I usually blame myself, then others, then myself again for blaming others.”
Then blame others for making you blame yourself for blaming them.

“So precious, suspicious, and charming, and vicious / Oh darling...”

Okay. Go.

“...Just when you get on a roll / Here it goes...”

[profile temporarily utilized for space]
“You’ve written me lots of love poetry, and I’ve written nothing (I’ll let you read- apologies). It’s long past my turn for a love letter, but, in keeping with the fatalistic tragic theme, it is also a good-bye letter.

I certainly could not have asked for anything better. I didn’t know there were those out there as romantic and all-around nice as you- and I managed to find one of the first try! I’m sure I was frustrating at times with my “innocence” and newness at this, but you have always made me feel comfortable and from my end the experience was unforgettable. We were able to communicate amazingly, both in terms of our relationship and just in general; I have always loved our conversations. You have been a superlative boyfriend and a great friend.

…not to mention you have impeccable timing. The time we have been together has not been the best of times for me, independent of you, but you have made up for it, on a whole and day-to-day. You’ve been there for me through a lot no one should have to.

As I’ve said, I haven’t yet realized how much I’m going to miss you.”

“Do I look like a mind reader, sir, I don't know...”

So many reasons to hate; really, I’m not sure at the moment what I hate more. The thing is, I still just don’t believe in statistics.

Somewhere someplace/drop down dead.

“...I got 99 problems...”