slippage. it only got worse as the evening wore on. it could be all due to

self-fulfilling prophecies. what we think will happen, will happen. and so, it just went downhill from then on. it's true, i let things slip. but yesterday i just wanted to let go. let it take its course. and so the crap went on and on and on.

187. that was a popular number in the late eighties and nineties. i got murder on my mind.

trust: that's a very very rare concept. and it has, in my view, been shot to bits. my buds, my buds, my lovely childhood bud, why oh why did u go that way. the male species have an implicit trust system imbedded inside and that has been broken. i have lost all respect now. fuck you. fuck off and die. crossing that line and trying to fuck up my life for whatever selfish painful alcohol-induced reason WILL NOT WORK. i am more bouyant than that. people come and people go. so fuck off.

hardcore. is the only way to be.