Gary

black eyed angels swam with me
2002-03-12 05:52:24 (UTC)

man, did anyone see that 9/11

special on CBS? intense... of course no one was suprised
at the intensity of the film, i hope. thats the kinda shit
that happens when 120 story buildings get airplanes ran
into them. almost makes me wanna enlist... but then
again, i couln't kill anyone...

all this fighting is making me nervous. we mormons believe
that the second coming will occur at the heigth of the
final battle between good and evil, and Jesus will stop the
fighing and uplift the righteous and blah blah blah burn
the wicked... well, whats making me nervous, is that a
showdown is coming. between the "axis of evil" (if you can
believe the media and our government, but thats another
entry...) and us righteous Christian nations. hmm. maybe
they're right... god, this shit is confusing. well,
according to that damned book of mormon, i have a little
time left. what scares me the most is the war in the holy
land. If we get involved, then i'm definitely getting back
with the church. Time for a little CYA.

i'm still feeling good about this school job. true, no
calls yet, but the classified ad is still in the paper. so
that means that they are still taking applications...

have i ever told you how hot Sarah Michelle Gellar is in
the Sour Girl video? i've always kinda had a thing for the
goth girls, though i'm not really goth/punk myself. i
always like talking to the goths and the punks. good
covesation. reminds me of my first time...

Her name was C. (thought better about listing her name,
becuase as it ended up, some crimes were commited during
our short affair. but you know who you are, C, and if you
are reading, email me) another co worker at taco bell. We
would always talk, and one night i gave her a ride home
from work. one night after work, we decided we would "hook
up"... we went out on the desert, and we did it. it was
my first time.... you've heard this before... the colors
were brighter, the whites were whiter, kodachroooommmme....
blah. we exchanged phone numbers, and we were off. so
anyway, the next day at work, she leaves a few minutes into
her shift. i talk to the manager, see why C wasn't there.
she told me that C was too young to be working. rocks in
the stomach. i asked her how old she was... 14! (well, i
was 16 at the time, so it wasn't so bad, but jeez, thats
criminal...) She called me when i got home, crying, saying
she wanted to die. i got a lot of these calls. her home
life was rough. she was always moving between her dad's
house and her grandma's. her life was more of a mess. but
apparently i was an island of tranquility in her stormy sea
of life.

She would call up, crying profusely. my mother would
always answer, and after a while, she got curious. she
told me she didn't want any more of these calls. good
thing we didn't have caller id. i told her one day, that
she couldn't call anymore. she cried some more. we agreed
to go to postal correspondence. I only recieved one of the
letters, with a picture, a letter, and some poetry. i took
it out and read it every so ofter. i was wondering why she
hadn't written me, when my dad showed me a stack of letters
from C. he then took them to the fire, and burned them.
he kept on envelope, and wrote back, telling C to never
write me again. sometimes i wonder what was in those
envelopes.

C, are you still alive? i'm sorry i never got any of those
letters. i'm sorry i never got an adress. my parents
stormed my room and seized the one letter that had got
through. i'm sorry. will you ever forgive me?




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