So I really feel like a huge asshole hypocrite driving around in my parents’ black Ford Explorer with the Sturgis/Nazi party iron cross above the back taillight and the BAD ONE liscense plate. But I guess that would be my dad.
Within the first 3 minutes of watching Changing Rooms, the British version of Trading Spaces, it’s clear that British people are (as my theory went anyway) smarter and more talented. Or maybe they have an interest in putting interesting people on TV. I’m not sure, but some guy is painting a fucking giant mural and the other family is making sculptures and they’re all discussing art history and whatnot. And this isn’t even on their cable. And they are coming up with the colors and shit. This must be a best of or something.
The fact is there is nothing on about 15 movie channels that my parents’ cable now gets, just a bunch of complete crap. If you’re making a movie you have to realize that it’s ending up somewhere between mediocre and bad don’t you? Like it’s not turning out like what was in your head? Or maybe nothing was in your head at all. I just don’t understand how these really horrible movies get made. Fucking give it up already. When they were working on the Godfather they knew it was good right?
My mom told me she found a badass orange recliner that someone was throwing out that then didn’t fit into her car. And her reasoning was it was orange so I probably would have thought it was ugly. Ha.
My friends and I have a strange thing where judging by our actions we are in either third, sixth or ninth grade. I don’t know, I can’t figure it out. Not wanting to grow up? That whole idea that adults are any different has been out the window for a while but it can get ridiculous. Not that I want to be some Man or something. Fuck that.
I got some pictures back from my pseudo birthday party that my parents took. They’re mostly me standing up which I don’t see much of but it’s sort of hilarious. I’m definitely fucking weird looking. I would say something to myself or about myself if I saw me walking around. I don’t know. But isn’t insecurity from being unsure? I’m not unsure, I’m fucking weird looking! I don’t care! And I look normal sitting down anyway. Or standing by myself. Sort of.
Happy Thanksgiving.
It’s a good night for a sit.
Sitting room rules.
OK, long time no updates.
So I’m 21 now. That has a lot to do with the lack of updates I think. It’s kind of nice to go to bars but I see a lot of people that really ought to be doing something else, but I guess they aren’t alone so they’ve got that going for them. Bars are expensive too. I think I already knew that. Not like I’ve never been to a bar before but I’ve never been able to actually relax. I’m really looking forward to using my id to go to smart bar and spit on the shoes of the guy that took my old fake one. And shows. And having a glass of wine with dinner. Not so much the binge drinking. Cost prohibitive.
I got some really good hugs for my birthday. And some nice stuff. Thanks.
Listen to Hold On by John Lennon. And explain what the hell the word COOKIE is doing there. I can’t figure it out.
I bought a couch yesterday. You should come sit on it. It’s really comfortable.
It’s so much easier to say what was good music 20 years in the past. The shit sinks and the good stuff lasts even if it doesn’t sell. That’s what I think anyway. I’ve never lived at any time other than now, but I would hope that there is something going on now that I don’t know anything about and in 10 years it will be known as what was going on right now. Or maybe that I do know about and don’t think anything of.
I need an iPod.
I figured out that people who sound like they know what they’re talking about figure something out and then just keep talking about it for the rest of their lives. I’d rather just listen to people who sound like they know what they’re talking about than sound like I know what I’m talking about myself.
One final is done, one ended up being tomorrow instead of today, one got changed to a takehome and one is still next Tuesday. Rock.
I saw a thing on HBO today about a reporter on the GW Bush Campaign trail. A ton of behind the scenes footage. I have to say, on a personal level, although he’s my exact opposite, he is a charming guy. He is an idiot, that’s true too, but he’s all about the wink. That gets me every time. It’s like he’d make a better uncle than president. The movie also featured a lot of stupid people who named their baby’s Reagan. That’s pretty sad.
I’ve got some amazon.com deliveries on their way.
It takes about 1 cup of strong coffee or 4-5 beers or 2-3 mixed drinks in order for me to function like a normal person. That’s assuming normal people chit chat.
The fact is I stayed up way too late last night searching for retro this and vintage that on ebay. My house needs a budget and an interior decorator. I want a modern looking house that right now we aren’t at all pulling off. It looks like a dorm room with a few living rooms and a kitchen. But I’d have to spend money to fix that. Freaking fluorescent light.
Unf, writing papers.
Suburbs day was fun.
Bikes and good weather rule.
Alone v. Alone in a crowd
I guess
I’d rather be alone tonight
than at another show
I’d rather sit with no one here
than get up get gone or go
I’d rather feel a little lonely
than drink another beer
And in the end I guess it must
be easier to stay here
Writing shitty poetry
Like the loser than I am
And knowing just what not to say
when I don’t call again
I like low light and loneliness
and sometimes maybe you
when i read this back to myself
only half of it is true
A year coming, the photo section has finally been updated. I added a bunch of pictures to the 2002 misc section, added three new sections, and subtracted the section with all the pictures that said this is my girlfriend I love her.
Do you think music can change the world? It can change the shape of the world, the feel, make a statement, open people’s eyes, but as a revolution in and of itself music is complete bullshit. It’s a distraction, a preoccupation that although sometimes discusses, but never actually solves problems. You think hippies did fucking anything? Fucking punk rock? Fuck that shit. Fuck it. I want a violent revolution. Not a cultural revolution. Singing about it isn’t going to change shit, the only people listening are the ones who were down from the beginning. Blow shit up. Kill those who hate change. I want action. Listening to Here Come the Warm Jets on repeat.