Handwritten page of a diary dated June 1, 2001

…  problem is, she was singing it even though she forgot most of the lyrics. She said, “well yeah, I hadn’t heard that song since it was a hit about TEN years ago.” And I said “what? Hootie and the Blowfish? That was not EVEN ten years ago.”

Half an hour later I walk into the kitchen and she’s still singing “well there’s nothing I can do I only wanna be with you” which she was probably in there singing that same line over and over since I’d walked out. But Mom told me if I’m going to go over to her apartment I should stop picking on her all the time since she’s pregnant and all. So I didn’t say much. But then she says, “I’m seriously thinking of naming this baby Hootie.” And no kididng, she was dead serious. Her poor kid needs to be put in protective custody and its not even born yet.


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Published in: on May 25, 2013 at 9:25 pm  Comments (1)  

Ghost in the window

heart shaped window

Handwritten page of a diary dated July 11, 1983

…  but our house won’t be ready to move back into or a while, so Dad rented us an apartment where we’ll be living for six months. When he first drove us by it, I thought it looked cool, but then he turned to me and said, “I know this is a pain for you to have to change schools for one semester BUT …” and then he pointed out the heart-shaped window, and told me that would be my bedroom. But the more I looked at it, the creepier it looked — like one of those rooms where people see a ghost looking out of if. Like maybe a little girl tragically died in that room and now her soul is trapped there forever and if the moon is shining just right, you can get a pretty good glimpse of her standing there with her old raggedy doll. I told Alan that later but he said too bad, he wasn’t sleeping in a bedroom with a heart-shaped window, so no he would not offer to switch with me. And not only that but after I finally got to sleep, I felt something fall on my head and I woke up screaming. Alan had actually gone up to the attic and gotten one of my old dolls and wrapped it in torn rags and thrown it on me in the dark. That was not even a little bit funny and I’ll tell you right now — this means war. And I don’t mean a little war like the Falkland Islands war. I mean like the Hundred Years War.


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Published in: on May 19, 2013 at 3:38 am  Leave a Comment