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August 4th, 2012
“I think Rusty needs more flowers.” It was Janet who was talking. She had brought an armload of daisies from her yard and arranged them in an oval around the dog’s body. Olivia had already fashioned a funereal bed in the wagon using dark green throw pillows from her bedroom and the brown blanket from the hall closet -- the one Aunt Jessie used when she spent the night on the couch. Rusty appeared to be asleep, curled up on the pillows and blanket just as Olivia had found her early that morning in her bed by the kitchen door.
November 1st, 2009
I've really grown to love 100 words. I feel like I've found a place I finally belong. Everyone here seems a little depressed, has slightly lower-than-healthy self-esteem, and likes to pointlessly philosophise about life. Also, since it is in writing, it doesn't sound pretentious. As noone knows each other (or hardly anyone does) it's not show-offy either, which seems to be getting rarer in modern life. I think the two things I hate most in life are pretentiousness and show-offishness. Probably because they remind me of bits of myself I try to compress...
August 21st, 2007
these clothes are no longer dirty they should have been put away
The ottoman cover,however, is quite dirty and should be washed
I will allow my sleeping dog to lie because when he is awake he will terrorize my house
Oh, so that is what they mean
And so I will let all the sleeping dogs lie, and I will began my life in peace. Undisturbed like a stream gentle and deep
Theses are the dreams and we are the dreamers yada yada
Pretty lies and ugly truths
This laundry is clean but it will not be forever