The Nightshade Princess
I've spent most of this evening shopping online. I
found a lovely coffin purse at goodgoth.com, one which I
plan to procure. I'm also searching ebay for a patent
vinyl corset, in a really small size, with shoulder straps,
which laces up in the front. This I do not plan to procure
for another year or two. My beloved wants a long, heavy,
black vinyl kilt, which, needless to say, is a big turn
on. He is also eyeing a long, black coat whose design
speaks of antiquity, comingled with small modern touches.
A new tophat, also, he seeks.
This is an entry filled entirely with mundania, with
the normal course of things, devoid of much of the soaring
philosophy and prose which characterizes my journal.
Certainly, my subconscious has been throwing into
horrifying worlds each time I attempt sleep. I am, after
all, in the middle of another streak of nightly terror. I
could tell you of my newfound job and consequent
ramifications, and I could even go into paragraphs on
enduring love. I am thus inspired, after all. I am not,
however, motivated to do this. My mind is heavy with the
daily tasks that make up existance.
I have broken a nail, the same one I chipped in an odd
place yesterday. I am not getting it repaired. My acrylic
lovelies are being soaked off tomorrow, probably before I
go out, if I, indeed, see the world beyond these pathetic
walls. I don't want to let them go, however it is
necessary for the health of my nailbeds to allow them time
to breathe, and there is no better time to do this. Prom
is in a 2 months, and they shall be reapplied once more
near this time.
I have plenty of summer-reading homework to complete,
but first I must re-read the book, as I have, predictably,
forgotten it in its entirity in the 7 months between the
assignment and its due date. I now have a lovely 500 word
essay and 2 days in which to do it. I don't even care...