Friday, August 23, 2002 :::
can we say uninspired?
::: posted by boots at 7:52 AM
Tuesday, August 20, 2002 :::
You's a HOE (Ludacris)
HANDS OFF MY ASS GIRLY!!!!!!!!
Little girls urk me.
::: posted by boots at 9:07 AM
Monday, August 19, 2002 :::
Alive Alone (Chemical Brothers)
So check this dream.
Friday night I got a little toasted with good friends for a birthday party. After waking up from a drunken sleep I stumble to my car and drive home from Oakland. My sunglasses do little to help shield my sensitive eyes from the rising sun. On the Bay Bridge I notice that I’m the only car and that there wasn’t anyone to attend to me at the tollbooth. Back in Daly City I stop by a Starbucks to get a non-fat light chocolate mocha. I know… Starbucks. Yuck, but there isn’t really and decent coffee spot in DC, so I settle. Anyway. At Starbucks there aren’t any workers, and only one patron sitting with his head down. He looks rather drunk, or maybe homeless, so I don’t bother asking him where all the workers are. I just hop in the back and brew up my own PREFECT (you know this is a dream if Starbucks is prefect) cup of coffee. On my way out the old man mumbles something to me. I can’t really make it out, because in my dreams people never speak clearly. They suck. The man stands up and I see right away that his eyes are just glazed the hell over. Home dood starts walking towards me mumbling something. He has this freaky deaky kinda walk. Like… um. Have you seen “Stir Of Echoes” where that dead girl is walking in the empty house? Or that Martin Scorcese film “Bringing Out the Dead”? That creepy walk? But yeah. The dood was walking like that… I get freaked and run to my car, and then all of a sudden random people from my past appear and start walking the freaky deaky walk over towards me. Then people from my present appear, and they do the freaky deaky walk. The whole time I’m trying to sip on my PREFECT mocha and not spill it cuz I’m wearing a white shirt. But I spill it anyway, so I get supper heated, and go off on them. I’m like “what the hell is ya’ll probs?! freakin dead people!” and they just kept muttering something underneath their breath.. The closer they got the more I could hear them… “One of us. One of us.. One of us...” where was that from?
So. Drawing from my deep knowledge of old school scary movies I remembered that in the “attack of the body snatchers” near the end they had to pretend that they were already zombies to survive? That’s what I did. I pretended I was fake… and that’s the way I lived the rest of my life. Until the end.
I woke up still in Oakland, still kinda buzzed. People were laying around passed out. The sun was just coming out, and I just sat there and waited for my friends to wake up so I could tell them about my dream.
::: posted by boots at 10:43 AM
