frog-of-the-arsonist

[frog-of-the-arsonist]

A little too suburban for me. Location Location Location. What's rent like?

[frog-of-the-arsonist]

shut ump fence and looks at me like I am an idiot. "it's not even that tall" I reply and walk away. so I don't have to be the winner and know I am not, I have to be the loser and not realize it. I am no longer the winner, and in my mind it isn't even about me anymore. He is my brother and I love him, but I am not in love with him or his lack of talking to me for the last 5 days. I have no idea what I did to piss him off.

[frog-of-the-arsonist]

behold. And weep.

i am online and ready to look at a frog

[frog-of-the-arsonist]

no questionS?

how about. what is a frog to do in this world other than be slimy?

frogs are slimy bastards.

after taking a shower I started thinking about it.

not only are they slimy, they are gross.

Frogs are not in your yard, I don't think.

(I live in a condo)

i am not sure if i totally answered your question, but i hope some of it helped.

p. s. I remember being at a water park in Florida when I was a kid

Frogs are not in your yard, I don't think.

(I live in a condo)

anyways, good luck

[frog-of-the-arsonist]

Opinions on fwogs with their tiny little hats and hate crime charges?

based

[frog-of-the-arsonist]

why?

why not? Why shouldn't I write these stories? I always imagined that once I'm married, I'd be able to let go of all the fears that have held me back for so long.

I'd be able to write and not worry about the critiques of "novels about a runaway bride and girl who solves mysteries."

The thing is, I'm a huge coward when it comes to some things. I can never sleep naked.

(Never.

I feel very exposed.)

I get cold easily.

[frog-of-the-arsonist]

Finally, I'm alone. "no you're not," said Knife Guy. "I read your book. I'm talking to you. You're all alone. Go back inside. "* pause *" Be a good girl and go back inside. "I turned to walk back, to go do the work I had refused to do earlier, and I heard the clacking of his knife against the metal rails of the stool." I'm not going back inside, "I said. "So you can fuck off and die." He stood up and then he came toward me with the knife. I saw it, but didn't move. I was frozen. It was just a knife. Couldn't be worse than before. His hand reaching toward mine. "I'm gonna cut your throat," he said. I just turned around and left the cafe. I'm done working. I'm not f * cking doing it anymore. I'll go inside when I'm done. When I go inside, I can make it a point to tell everyone who works there about Knife Guy. I can give his last name and his address. No more work. He'll have to figure out for himself what to do with himself. Here's to the peaceful coexistence of Will, Knife Guy and everyone else in the world. To the day when I can go into a cafe and not worry about having my throat cut. "I'm not locked in. I'm free to go." I said. "You're locked in," said Knife Guy. "That doesn't make any sense," I replied. "It does. You're locked in to your own delusions. You're locked in to your fear of being locked in to them. "I am locked in to my delusions." That doesn't mean you're locked in, "said Knife Guy." It's true enough that I'm locked in, "I said. "I'm locked in to my fear of being locked in." I didn't know how to respond to that, so I went inside. The manager was shaking his head. He wanted me to go back in and finish the work I had refused to do earlier. He kept saying it doesn't make any sense. But the truth is that it doesn't make any sense. And, I reasoned, perhaps no one who has ever actually been locked in knows any differently. "Guys like that have a certain je ne sais quoi," said the manager, more to himself than to me. "Nervous?" asked Knife Guy. I said I had enough work. Sheesh. I'm never going back in there again. And I'm never having a coffee again at that cafe. Never. I'll just go sit by myself at Starbucks, or at a table by myself, or sit by myself at another cafe, and sip coffee. If I go there, it's for a reason, and I don't need to be with people. Never again. I'm never drinking coffee from that cafe again either. I'm never having a coffee again at that cafe again. Never again. Never. Never. Never. Never again. I'm getting the hell out of dodge with my life. Nothing. No coffee. No more cafes. No more places where people go to hate themselves and each other, where people feel the need to say unkind things and hurt other people. "Man, I'm going to kill myself," he said. I looked at him. He looked terrified. I had never seen anyone look so terrified in my life. "If you're going to kill yourself, you might as well just do it in the bathroom," I told him. "I'm not going to kill myself," he said. "I swear on a stack of Bibles." He looked at me. "I'm not your mother," I said. "I don't care what you do. But I don't want you to kill yourself, ever. "I hope he will never kill himself again. I hope that he will never feel like he is completely alone and miserable. I hope he and his family have some comfort in knowing that he was not simply bad at life. I hope he and his family come to accept themselves for who they are and that they feel comfortable in the world. I hope they take comfort in the fact that his mother and father love each other and that they are capable of loving the rest of their children as well. I hope he remembers that he is loved, that he was loved and that he is loved. And that he will never forget that. I had the weirdest dream. I went to see a movie. It was a Star Wars movie but it was never called that, it was called something like Star Wars: Rataranga.