It's very quiet right now. I avoided todays assembly and opted rather to go run around town doing things that needed to be done. Earlier i heard the sirens, from a fire truck or some other emergency vehicle no doubt. They were trying to teach a lesson. One ive already learned.

Its quite lovely outside my window. Sunny with a touch of clouds. The roses are in full bloom, they're tempting me to cut them. It seems as though the sun shines only on them, for beyond the garden the sky is dark and unforgiving. To kill, To cut, may cause the sun to leave the garden in the black void it began in. I feel that the beauty of the flowers is too much for an ugly world. A world as undeserving as this should harvest weeds and display them in vases made of human skulls.

The beauty of the garden is just a gentle facade. Delicately fake, fragile and fearsome. A Thorny oblivion.

Ive cut a yellow rose and its pink counterpart from the bushes my window overlooks. Ive left the thorns and leaves. They add to the beauty of the rose.

My vase is an enourmous cup stolen from somewhere in sacramento. It's a very detailed cup, I do believe it was used to hold alcohol.

Ironic that alcohol once took residence in my makeshift vase. Ironic My vase housed something i loathe most (next to cigarettes) and now it houses beauty in its most delicate form. A beauty i often overlook. an intricate work of natural art too complex for most eyes.

Sometimes i feel like that weird man with the camera. You know, in that one movie american beauty i believe its called. The man who films a plastic bags exotic dance and almost is overcome by its beauty. Sometimes im crazy. Sometimes Im overcome.

sometimes im maniac, this is what happens in those sometimes.