25 September 2004

I ruined this poor Asian kid’s arm. Destroyed it; deja vu Fight Club, deja vu Magnolia. I love playing trade hits. It’s something that takes the tension off of a moment. When you keep going, even though you can hardly lift your arm, now that’s fun. Bill Luu, rank five or so in the class, destined to be the Asian guy building Honda’s newest technologies in the future, that’s him. And now he has a bruise that is roughly eight inches in length, six inches in width. There is signifigant blood leakage, as well.

In other news, I spent several dollars on sushi. Nigiri Salmon. Or, so I think that’s the name. I don’t deal well with foreign languages.

So far, I have engineered teachers pretty well this year. English will drive me nuts, Spanish is hard in general, and Chemistry wouldn’t remember if I shot her family.

I had an odd dream. I’ll have to tell you about it later.

Hey, do you actually even read this? … You must be pretty busy, I’m assuming. If I was you, I wouldn’t. What have I said in this journal to recap? Nothing at all.

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