all the girlies say I'm pretty fly for a white guy.

he rather enjoys scaring the shit out of innocent people. even more so when they're scared of his face. he's creepy enough to enjoy the fact that small children have cried when they saw his face. almost made a baby cry today. grade eights and adults are the most fun to scare. he can't get over the fact that it's so easy to make people think little bits of different makeup is an extreme injury.  he summons every bit of female non-hate he can find and tries not to cry at the touch of dresses. with the blood and gore it helps him to realize that he isn't completely giving in. his mother doesn't know what he plans to do. he's still dreaming of bowties and tailcoats. he still hasn't picked something up for prom, there's still a hope left. he will stall and stall and stall until there is no other solution than to let him have his way. he's dreaming of suit jackets with spiked shoulder pads and chains. he hopes that something will happen, some spark that can allow him to get out of wearing yet another fucking dress.  he racks his mind for a reason to not blow the rest of his money on plugs, tunnels, and Halloween things. keep $4.25 for bus fare to and from occupy. and however much for the retreat. the rest needs to find him ways to carry the Halloween into his everyday life all year round, to modify his wardrobe at the one time of year everywhere carries his brand of crazy.  <3 <3