idiocy
Sunday, September 14, 2003
This really needs to not be listed under calendar, but am unsure how to surmount these problems with all the zeroes and all the ones...i suppose this could return to its original purpose which was to post the neat things you were supposed to be seeing/attending/viewing/supporting/being on a specific time and date and place and nothing else...instead, i have decided that few people viewing this site live anywhere near me, and the ones that do can read their own damn weekly papers and perhaps give me a yell and tell me to attend instead of the other way round.
[part of the problem here is that i have, for the first time in my life, been allowed to paint my room the colors that i require and so i am happy in my space and get oblivious to the rest of the world, the rest of my life sometimes.(but i can listen/play/whatever to music and not leave my room, what, should i have been paying attention?) and this is not condusive to world domination]
but i digress. oh, look, and i cannot spell.
tonight. the electric eye. again.
it is all about the trout.
and the fine, fine fashion of those boys.
(personally, i think there should have been more things set on fire, but then again, you shouldn't listen to me.)
they've got the metal in them.
this is why i enjoy them.
that, and the trout.
good times.
you should ask ben if you can touch his trout, if ever you should meet him.
he might punch you, but either way, it's entertaining to me.
Actually, he probably wouldn't punch you, and you really should only ask him this if you are a hot girl, but anyways...
it's early. and i am home.
i have been told what i want is unattainable
and by confessing this to you, i give myself away.
so i will go drink a few beers by my own damn self and pass out asleep until some other stupid obligation forces me to get dressed. my poor roommates. soon they are going to find me running about half-naked in the pouring rain in the garden, shouting at god.
luckily, tonight it is not raining, i am not angry or drunk enough, and for the most part, well, never mind. but usually i am not prone to shouting at god.
just singing drunkenly into closets.
if i were a better person, more lyric, more something, of the thousand things that i am not, i would put some great tribute to mr. j. cash here. but he knows. i drank whiskey to him yesterday, and he's already healed me a thousand times so far in this life. he already knows.