designer junkie death threats
this blog has become a parody of itself. a caricature of what i intended it NOT to be.
"oh yeah, and when i was a kid. i TOTALLY liked michael jackson!"
pfft.
my back has been killing me and i got to finish applying Thomas Kuhns philosophy of scientific paradigms to two short stories by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and an excerpt from the autobiography of a very smart Indian woman named Santha something or other. my back feels like it is ripping itself from the hips, tearing down my entire left side and i gotta revise a Darwinist application and a short story i have to read in front of people. i cant even feel my foot, its like my foot is asleep, and the pain is sharp and fixed upon my back and hips. i go to the doctor and get painkillers. i go to the doctors and get electrical jolts shot into my foot and leg. i go to the doctors to get more painkillers. these papers are due thursday and my lower back might have a pinched nerve. my back is on fire and i go to the doctors for something to control the inflammation in my lower disk. she hates doctors and blames it on me that i even have to go. because i dont take care of myself because i never did and never do and because i wont listen to her and if i would just listen to her- i go to the doctors tomorrow to get an MRI because my back has told me over and over again that i have to do something. i have to make a change. it tells me with each shot from the bottom of my spine down through my clenched glutes and tensed up hamstrings and even further down to my indifferent calf and the foot i cant feel anymore. it tells me. my back tells me to get shit corrected. that if i dont it will hurt me forever.
i would hate this blog more, if most of my hate weren't reserved for my back.
could be all that hate for my back which makes my back hurt in the first place.
oh the irony. the stupid. fuckin. irony.
this blog chafes. im not even gonna post any pictures. eat it bitches.
"oh yeah, and when i was a kid. i TOTALLY liked michael jackson!"
pfft.
my back has been killing me and i got to finish applying Thomas Kuhns philosophy of scientific paradigms to two short stories by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and an excerpt from the autobiography of a very smart Indian woman named Santha something or other. my back feels like it is ripping itself from the hips, tearing down my entire left side and i gotta revise a Darwinist application and a short story i have to read in front of people. i cant even feel my foot, its like my foot is asleep, and the pain is sharp and fixed upon my back and hips. i go to the doctor and get painkillers. i go to the doctors and get electrical jolts shot into my foot and leg. i go to the doctors to get more painkillers. these papers are due thursday and my lower back might have a pinched nerve. my back is on fire and i go to the doctors for something to control the inflammation in my lower disk. she hates doctors and blames it on me that i even have to go. because i dont take care of myself because i never did and never do and because i wont listen to her and if i would just listen to her- i go to the doctors tomorrow to get an MRI because my back has told me over and over again that i have to do something. i have to make a change. it tells me with each shot from the bottom of my spine down through my clenched glutes and tensed up hamstrings and even further down to my indifferent calf and the foot i cant feel anymore. it tells me. my back tells me to get shit corrected. that if i dont it will hurt me forever.
i would hate this blog more, if most of my hate weren't reserved for my back.
could be all that hate for my back which makes my back hurt in the first place.
oh the irony. the stupid. fuckin. irony.
this blog chafes. im not even gonna post any pictures. eat it bitches.
posted by -jkg at
7:41 PM
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