|
::Control:: �new �old �profile �note �book �rings �bio �cast ::Celebrity:: �Pocket Bishonen �my alter ego �sacred cave �recommend �82% untelligent ::Previously:: 02/28/2007 - lj 12/07/2005 - moved. 07/20/2003 - legally gay 2 04/12/2003 - be my light in the gloom 04/07/2003 - the best entry i have ever written in my entire life ::Diaries:: �abhorsen �Aeryn42 �annericefan �arkham13 �greschya �justchris �scathing words [john's blog] �larrielou �perceptions �rachelle- �solstice36 �thatkiss �unclaimed �wandering41 �whale-girl 
host |
|
::?:: Seeing: 12 Hearing: 13 Saying: days til origins: 5 ::Links:: �diaryreviews �dland god/des �dreamreviews �fucklist �interview �oddgoogle �poti reviews �quoted �r-e-v-i-e-w �rudereviews ::Inner Demons:: �winsomekitty �misskitty.scathing �new orleans pictures �dirtyshirt dezines �ask-alice �fat.girlie �niku_neko.lj |
|
06/29/2002| 2:28 am my mind, the lame story. *squeals in delight* fallenelf added me as a favourite. more minions! Muahahahah! ahem. Now on to your not so regularly scheduled entry... a bit of explanation first. i am a supreme dork. i am huge trek fan. i will now embarrass myself greatly by combining these two things in an entry. helpful hint:think like that tv show herman's head I walk into our living room which is as usual a disorganized array of pack-ratishness. Erin and Miriam are sitting on the horribly sad and broken couch watching tv. Somehow we end up talking about music, probably because of my downloading spree I am full of information about what i'm listening to. "I really like Rasputina" I say casually, waiting for the positive and negative remarks to come. "yeah i like them too." Erin volunteers. "They were produced by Marilyn Manson. They only exist because he liked them." At this point a largely annoying cackle spews forth from miriam, reminding me of the projectile vomit from the sick sticks in Minority Report. "You like something to do with Marilyn Manson" she squeals. Instantly my inner klingon arms himself yelling something about defending our honor before the vulcan steps forth and quiets him with talks of how illogical it would be to behead our roommate. I'm barely aware of these goings on as I stare blankly at miriam who claims to know more about music than she actually does. In the corner the Klingon is still muttering about honor and how the logical vulcan knows nothing because she is a woman. "I thought we took his weapons away" says the starfleet captain inside. She is the one who is always trying to maintain order. She glares at the Ferengi at the table who is grinning mischieviously. He is here because of the order and control the captain places on us. He smuggles in the fun and the occassional illegal item. His latest plunder was shipment of marijuana. A potent enough strain to quiet even the klingon. I snap back to reality finally. "I don't care who produced them; I like the cellos," I retort. Erin continues talking about the band. I pick up random pieces of the monologue about goth dolls and industrial music. I argue with miriam some more, but it wasn't important enough to be stored in the Android. It takes care of the important information. I've asked it about other music I like with classical instruments. It drones on about violins and walks into the archives of my mind. It won't be seen for days, at which point it will return triumphantly with the information requested of it. Somewhere in a corner of my mind, an alien is complaining of boredom. And all the other things in my mind continue on like they always do. |