12:55 am - 2003-09-09
In which the word \"fish\" appears thirteen times
Once upon a time, there was a fish. The fish was more or less like any other fish, only it happened to have a lot more coloring than most fish. Other fish were drawn to this particular fish because they thought that it was special, unique, when in fact it was only a minnow with particularly brilliant fins. In fact, this fish had no school of its own and thus took care of itself, until one day when it happened upon an entire swarm of fishes that had grown up together, for the most part. These fishes were good enough to let the multicolored oddity join their bloodthirsty little gang, unaware of all of the swimmage the fish would bring with it. And indeed the fish brought plenty of swimmage, always spazzing out and getting anal about stupid stuff all the time...still, the school accepted it and loved it, for no apparent particular reason, and the fish, who hated Metallica, loved them all more than life itself. And then one day, this bird comes along, and it turns out this bird is apparently just as messed up as the fish, so somehow or another, they start talking, and before anyone can say "ketchup"...well, you can guess what led to what. Anyhoo, the fish then had a problem: it's school was its world, but it loved the bird deeply...how could it choose between one or the other? The school had taught it how to live, to trust, and to love, only the fish was not entirely sure that these lessons could extend to those outside of its school...if they could, who better to share all that the fish had learned than the bird? How could it even consider doing the one thing it most feared all of the other fishes doing? However, as everyone knows, birds do not live under water, and....and that's the end. There is a broken aquarium outside the dorm, yes there is. I might not be able to talk to you people for a while, but that's ok too...you guys have all heard this broken record before. And by "you guys", I mean you, Mom and Dad, seeing as I seriously doubt that anybody else reads my enlightening little tidbits concerning the twisted minds of skitzophrenic pixie stick addicts...after all, I don't ever talk about the colors of the rainbow, and fear of nonsexual intimacy with rabid nongoats, or even about soulless soulmates, so really, why bother, eh? It's close to two am, I think, so I should probably hit the hay, or the sidewalk, whichever I run across first. In the meantime...much love to the well-deserving, and my apologies to the new bird as well. I will talk to you when I talk to you.

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