Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Dear Diary,
Everything's in alphabetical order now
which makes it easier to put my
accounts first and the zoo last
and a myriad of other things
in the middle.

Dear Diary,
Nothing much in the world has change.
Men want casual sex. Women want love.
Leaves fall from the trees. Soon it will be winter.
Winter will melt and turn to spring.
Men will still want casual sex. Women will still
want love. Eventually summer will come,
then autumn again. And the cycle continues.
On and on. On and on. One season to the next.
Man will always want casual sex.
*shrug* What can you do?
There's nothing new
under the sun.

Love?
Sex?
Common ground????

Both are wonderful but they should be united.
Even self-satisfaction is better than sex with another person if there is no love since hopefully you love yourself.
haha!

Dear Diary,
I'd like to be part of something big,
something important, something
grand, dynamic and inspiring!
Do you know of anyone who's hiring?

It's been a bit dreary, no excitement
of late. If this is my fate, then I'm doomed!
If there is a crystal ball to consult, could you
direct me to it? Is it anywhere in this room?
Or somewhere nearby?
I promise not to ask difficult questions
like what or where or why.

Dear Diary,
My voluntary demotion came through today. Story of my life, yet I'm seeing this pattern of mine in a more positive light. It's not much of a drop in pay when I consider what I will personally be gaining. A non-monetary raise with low ratio soul loss.
It's still my highest income ever.
I see a myth behind me, glowing, fading, a sentimental ember.
Might be sparkles ahead.
Congratulations to me.
H

dear diary.......secret no more....open book...laid out on the table.....spread, but evenly spread....not to thin, yet definitely not thick.....balancing on the edge....on the fringe....of a razor's flip....

Dear diary,

It's Christmas in Petville,
on Farmville, and on world of warcraft.
We put up the tree, hung stockings
but I wish my kids still believed in santa.

Dear Diary
The secrete is out,
there is no Santa Claus

six billion teraflops a second
life on the edge of my mind
I can't keep up

them thoughts keep coming
I wish I had some music
to back them up

"why do fools fall in love
on blueberry hill
doing the dance of life"

I believe.
Yes, I believe
cause somebodies gotta keep magic.

Yes got to believe in magic
got to believe in the children of men
but magic is a lonely business

Dear diary book
I feel as though I can share my deepest secrete feelings with you.

I always wondered how women could make their breasts jiggle when they were just standing there.

I used to be a fish
I used to go looking for romance



I don't know how I got so beat

A season to suspend skepticism
a season for miracles
but aint they all

Dear Diary

I am not so much beat as maybe just old.
Winters colder and darker than ever for me
even here in south Texas where the winters are kind.

I feel like I have the soul of a NorseMan
in my latter years

Dear Diary,

It's never too late for magic
the catfish said so.
It only takes a blow
and it'll burn all night.
Let it burn to last this winter.
Hang on
we're going in blind.

Dear diary

I am thinking about going back to college, finish my post doctoral studies and get my Th.D (Doctor of Thaumaturgy)

well it is an ill wind that blows no good

definetly going in blind I poked both my eyes out choking my chicken.