i decided. that evening. that i was done. with sitting still.

i could be one of those blogger kids with the witty banter and the sharp tongue. guess that i lack the groove and the parental issues. oh snap. 

i do have the parental issues. 

so why the lack of razors edge?

the delusion/ illusion that my grandmother is reeding this, is kind of what is stopping me from hurling out my intestines.

this rather larger than life razor does not have an edge. you can call me butterknife. 

ha.

cute.

aint it. 

so lets write about politics

fashion

art

photography

architecture

design

oh stop!

it matters. this little butterknife gloom. 

really? 

i thought the pretentious sadness died with mmm, who is the relevant celebrity reverence?, maybe cobain, maybe brittany, heath, river?

non the less.

we shall write about art and all the rest. cos honey its the new sadness. get with it.

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