waste of paint.

Lately I've been listening to "LIFTED, or the Story is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground" quite a bit. I bought it quite some time ago, but since that I didn't really pay it much attention, besides a couple obvious tracks like "Bowl of Oranges" and whatnot.

So what this is getting to is, disturbing projections of my (and others, too) life, penned by someone I will never meet

"As I hide behind
these books I read,
while scribbling
my poetry,
like art could save a wretch like me,
with some ideal ideology
that no one can hope to achieve.
And I am never real;
it is just a sketch in me.
And everything I made is trite
and cheap
and a waste
of paint,
of tape,
of time."

I started sending you a note

Everyone is so rude. Would it kill them to get their head out of their behind and try to be considerate, or even polite? Girls especially- they think that they're the only person on the planet earth, and are entitled to hate and judge everybody they want. Being caught up in yourself is going to make you fall.

And I'm not saying all females are like this, but a good majority are. And it's really, really old.

Oh, and push pops have officially beaten slush pops. They're both so damn good, though..

stardust

"If you love something, give it away"



I need inspiration. I can't even bring myself to choke out another crappy blog entry.

Frustration!

No surprise

miss you already

The Only Moment We Were Alone

a shining beacon amongst the gray!

(I'm exaggerating)

(maybe)

he knows! he knows! these secrets in the form of abrasions are his to see!

if I trust you, don't fuck it up

crop circles in the carpet

I will wait another forty-five minutes.

Right now I'm listening to my dog breathe / dream and 'Hide and Seek.' It's comforting. I feel like I am in the book Goodnight Moon. It is a very good feeling.

I think that if I ever have children, I'll make their rooms as close to that one as I can. For me, that book is home, so it would be terrific.

If I close my eyes, I am able to pretend that I'm the only person awake in the whole world.

blacktop calling your name

I spent about 113$ on music this weekend. It was satisfying. But my computer has already eaten the Imogen Heap record and that means that I will probably never get to load Elliott Smith. Which is maddening, but, you know, you take what you can get, I suppose.. (in case you hadn't figured it out, my computer is a piece of shit)

Everything is going fine. It's probably the normalcy that is leaving me so uninterested. I'm also very aware of how much this weekend is going to suck, and the others following it as well. They just seem really trivial when summer is so close, and also since my curfew has been moved back to eleven.

I used to crave solitude, but recently I've found that when I'm alone for too long, I lose my head. I haven't any theories to explain this yet, but I'm hoping it will just go away on its' own.

We are out of popsicles.

Spending too much time on what you want to see makes you an idiot, or an idealist. Maybe you should focus more on what is in front of you.

i am afraid there's a hole in my brain

i wish i were more important

fargo is a good movie

good evening.

too much

ssdgsdgasdgadsgdas

sometimes when i am sitting
alone
in the dark
reading those words

my body seems to disapear
i can float away
from this

i think that if i sit there long enough, someday i can fly away

a can of worms

before i could stop myself, i wrote 'love' and then my name
it was an impulse
and even after i crossed it out, it stuck in my head
i hate that word sometimes
just because it's such a big deal. i don't throw it around, of course not
but doesn't it seem to you that if you are pretty sure you feel that way, it's okay to say it? even if it seems too soon or something?
maybe not...

infatuation maxes out at two months anyway.
shit.

what is this then?

p.s. i'm going to regret posting this later

p.p.s. i hope she still thinks about you. i hope she regrets

p.p.p.s. it's not like anybody reads this anyway

carry me home.

For some reason, I keep thinking about that first dream about you that I had. I wish that dream had come true. But whenever I look over at you smiling back at me, I kinda feel like it's better this way..

I can't believe

how long it's been since I posted.

A week or so, but still..

I just keep forgetting, or I think about it, but I don't feel like I'm inspired or anything, and that whatever I'd write would just be total crap, y'know?

Hm. That's pretty accurate to everything I post, though.

while my mother waters plants, my father loads his gun

I do not know why I am opening this up when I have nothing to write about. I learned something new today, about you. It didn't necessarily make me happy. Not at all. It made me disappointed and feel .. not special.

I guess.
No, I don't guess. I know that. I'm way too sensitive.

I kind of wish I had stayed in tonight, mostly because I'd have been better off not knowing about that.

I'm so tired of my insecurities jumping the gun. Of my heart being heavy about stupid things that a normal person wouldn't worry about. Not that I'm special, or anything. I just don't think that my emotions are.. in check.

I'm glad that my mp3 player is fixed.. I will be thinking about happy things for the rest of the night.