on the road

I'm not able to go home anymore. Some really bad stuff happened, so I packed and left. I'm going to be spending the next few weeks at various friends' houses, then coming back home for the rest of my stuff to bring back to my dorm. It's really scary because I don't know if my parents are going to continue to pay for my tuition. There's no way I can afford to go to the school I'm going to by myself. At the same time, it's strangely exciting to truly be on my own. I have been going to college for the last two years, but I could always come back home, and home was within an hour of school. Now there's no place to go.

subvert! undermine! love!

Days of War, Nights of Love came in the mail today. It's an introduction to the anarchy, the kind I had talked about before. It's a fascinating book.

The nice folks from CrimethInc. also included a whole bunch of stickers. Which I may or may not have posted all over town and photographed. I placed a couple up on my Flickr, but the rest were crappy snapshots that I had to take in a bit of a hurry.

sleep

Up late again for no particular reason. This is happening more and more often. But I don't mind. It's just boring and kind of lonely. Oh well. I can't shake this restlessness and disinterest in life. I just don't care much, except for music, photography, and the girl I still love. Nothing else, not even my friends or family, at least right now.

I think I may take another walk to see how far I can get. I plan on cheating and driving out to the state park. I haven't been any farther west than that. So everything will be new. I may hitchhike. Woot.

I hope that your holiday(s) went well. I really do.

smiling fights the lonely monster

Note: Skyy vodka and hawaiian punch are really, really good together.

I've been avoiding my family as much as possible. I just can't relate. They're good people and I love them, but that doesn't bridge the wide gulf between us. So most of my time has been spent in my room or at my friend's house. With so much time to think.

I've hammered out the chords for a new song. It should be up on my myspace within a week or so assuming I can get back to my dorm to grab some recording equipment. So now you have something to look forward to, presumably.

I hope you have a good holiday everyone.

false starts

That whole backpacking thing didn't work out. I walked for about 4 miles before I realized that my pack was too heavy or my back was messed up or something. Lame. So... it was a learning experience, I guess. Next time if I want to go somewhere, I'll just hop on a freight train with a light pack and see where I end up.

I feel so alone. All the time. Even when I'm around people, I'm not all there - that one piece, that one part that makes it all real - it's almost always missing. What is wrong with me? Why can't I just be happy?

I have never been loved - truly loved. It sounds self-pitying, doesn't it? But I think that's how we are. We're built to long for each other. I find myself waking up every morning, curled up and trying to snuggle with the damn wall. This is unbearable. I can't even express anything anymore. I can't do this. Let me feel anything but this.

1st avenue, headed south

I'm waking with the sun tomorrow (today). I will pack my things and walk west until the sun sets. Then I will camp out and walk back the next day. My very first adventure. I hope I don't die.

continued

Spending the weekend back at school wasn't as bad as I though it would be. I had to be there for a final in my pain-in-the-ass photo class that meets on Sunday mornings. So lame. I ended up staying the rest of the day just chilling with Cat and Schroder and some other new friends. Time well spent, for sure. Schroder had to leave, though, and she probably won't be back for months. When we were saying goodbye, I don't know... whatever I was thinking, it's best that I didn't.

I've been learning a whole lot more about the whole anarchist/transient lifestyle from Schroder. It is truly fascinating - way different from any preconceived notions I had about anarchy. I can't really describe it well, but they can. And so can these folk. Check out the FAQ, it's incredibly well-done.

I don't know. This is pretty cool. I'm seriously considering doing it, but even I'm not sure how I'd go about doing that or even when I could. Regardless, it's given me something to keep my mind off her some of the time. A relief, no doubt, but it still hurts just as bad as it has before. It's worse when I'm by myself, and worse still when it's night. I wish I had a box where I could keep whatever part of me that aches so much. I could just set it in there every now and then, but strangely, I wouldn't want to keep it there forever. Sometimes I like how it hurts, but it's more than that. I don't know how to say what I mean.

Supertramp

She called the other day to say she was sorry. I am just happy to be able to talk to her again. So I guess that means I'm feeling better.

I met a transient girl the other day. Her name was Schroeder. She was visiting a friend here who was a friend of my friend. It's kind of hard to describe her. She was alive like no one else. So I'm a bit taken with her. Not really, though. Although she didn't mean to, I felt really superficial and fake around her. I had never really questioned culture or gone out on my own or anything. And here she was, having been tramping since the summer, hopping trains and going all over the place. I had an intense desire to ask her to take me with her. I'm not trying to romanticize that life or anything. It's hard as hell not knowing where you'll sleep, where or when you'll eat, and so on. I'm not even sure if I could do it. But I don't know. I've had this thing where I get really, really restless and I don't know what to do with myself. I can't sit still, and nothing helps, not even music. Usually I just ignore it, but now I'm wondering where it's really coming from. A desire to really live? To be more than this? Even now I'm out of my head with restlessness. Goddamnit, what is this?

greetings

Listening to Sufjan Stevens right now. I strongly recommend that you go out and buy his entire collection. Immediately.

It is Saturday night and I am alone in my room. There's no real way to put a positive spin on that, is there? Finals are this week. Not too big of a deal at an art school. At least compared with MSOE. Jesus. So I'm studying. Or was. Break time.

Today was spent mostly in the darkroom. I only developed two prints in four hours. Most people could get around six. My shots kind of suck too. Bummer.

Tonight was going to be spent trying to get drunk off vodka. I just started drinking recently, so I have no real idea what I'm doing. Anyways. This entry isn't going the way I want it to.

Let's try again. I am hesitant to write what I'm really feeling in this blog because my parents were secretly reading my old blog that I had kept for the better part of two years. I was going through some rough shit at MSOE and I made a passing reference to self-harm and they freaked. My dad drove up the next day at 6 in the morning and brought me to a therapist. For serious. To be fair, I had "experimented" , for lack of a better word, with cutting before. I felt really betrayed and extremely pissed off with the whole blog thing My dad gave me his word that he wouldn't read my blog again, but I can't be sure.

So. I guess I'll just say whatever. If I can't say what I feel here, I can't say it anywhere. I have felt this crushing, bottomless loneliness for several weeks running. I'm not trying to be over-dramatic about this, honest. I feel unworthy of love in any form. That's why I wanted to get drunk tonight. So I could feel okay for a while. Probably would have just ended up crying and crying and crying. "Talk to someone about this". Why? They can't fix it. Me talking about how miserable I am and how much I dislike myself makes me feel worse.

I have a quiet feeling that the rest of my life will be like this. Long, almost endless periods of sadness and solitude interrupted by brief spurts of happiness. Is a life like that even worth living? There have been suicide attempts in my family before, and I have seen the destruction and grief they bring. So none of that.

Please. Please. I don't even know what I'm asking for or who I'm asking. But please. Let me love. Let me be loved. Let me stop hurting. Please. Please.

I now have a super dooper myspace music site. My song(s) should be up there in the next couple of hours.

http://www.myspace.com/seanvize

it hurts

Today was no good, I was off my meds for nearly two days about five days ago, and it caught up to me just now. I hate those fucking things. I've been on them since I was 14. I'm not sure if they've even helped anything. So my mood has been off for a day or so now. Well, I can't be sure. What do you do when you can't trust your own thoughts? Whose thoughts are they then?

I miss you so much. Maybe it was something you could just brush off now that you have someone else. You really hurt me, and it's like you don't even care. Don't ever presume to tell me how I'm feeling. Only I can really know that, just as you are the only one who can truly know how you feel. I love you. I'm truly sorry if that makes you feel weird, but I'm not sorry for my feeling that way about you. Maybe you're right and you never really loved me. But I know that I loved you and that I love you still. And yes, I don't know the specifics about you that would come if there wasn't this distance. But would that make me love you any less? Any more?

You won't read this, though. So I'm just posting and recording my self-pity for all to read. I don't care. I don't care I don't care I don't care I don't care I don't care. You never loved me. I don't blame you. But those precious weeks where both of us loved (or thought we loved) the other were wonderful.

Debbie Downer

Man. Still pretty busted up about this whole situation. "Time heals all wounds". Total bullshit. Time doesn't heal a damn thing - you just learn how to adapt to living with whatever is hurting you. It never scabs over. That's why out of nowhere, someone will mention something and it reminds you of whatever happened and it hurts just as bad as it did all that time ago.

I feel ugly and stupid and unwanted. Some days breathing is barely worth the effort. Ugh.

I haven't written. Some really bad shit had been going on between me and this girl I love. Or used to love. I don't know anymore. But I fucked it all up and now when she needs a friend more than ever, I'm not there. I have failed her, and I'm so sorry.

I've been keeping a journal for more than a week now, roughly as long as this has been going on. Someday I would like her to read it. Pure narcissism, but it's hard for me to speak to her about my feelings. I was just so excited that such a wonderful, beautiful girl told me that she loved me back. Now she says she doesn't and never did. I don't know what happened. Everyone says that this will pass and that I will make some girl so happy someday. The word "liar" is in my head before that sentence is finished. Still, I am grateful for what I had. I only wish that I could see her face-to-face and say how sorry I am for making her feel so uncomfortable and making all the shit going on in her life that much worse.

just a bit

I don't think I'll be talking about much of anything for a while. Here or in real life. Not that it matters. No one is reading this.

oh no...

The record companies have taken over. God help us all.

lame on purpose

Some days I spend entirely (or nearly) alone by choice. It hurts, but it's a good hurt. Like exercise.

I hate my timidness. When I go home, I am going to ask my brother to punch me in the face as hard as he can (ala Fight Club) to prove to me that I am not made of glass. I hope I get into a fight with a grumpy hobo soon. I hope I get hit by a slow-moving car. I hope some asshole insults one of my friends in front of me. I hope someone tries to push me around. I want to prove to myself that I am not a coward. I want to be self-destructive.

fumes

Running off of 3 hours' sleep right now. I'm not coherent enough to string together a witty sentence or anything, so here's a little gem for you all.

everything gets bigger when there's no one around

Lonely, horny, and bored. And lonely. A really, really bad combination.

take this weight...away

Goddamnit, I miss you with everything I've got. This distance doesn't belong between us and everything's all wrong. I wish I could eat every inch of dirt and asphalt and sky between you and me. There is no one and nothing else. And it hurts so much to say, it hurts so bad. And I know it hurts you too, and I'm so sorry. But how can we pretend it is any other way? When I said I loved you, I said it like I had never said anything before. Like nothing else before really counted. And yet, here we are. Far apart. With no choices. And no way not to hurt.

the grind

I'm at work right now. Work is a small coffee shop inside an art supply store. I guess that makes me quite the hipster. It's slow pretty much all the time, so I am lucky to be getting paid to read and do homework. Instead of getting something to eat today, I went off and bought a book. Now I am an elitist hipster, the best kind. Perhaps I can nibble on the pages if I get hungry.

i'm still alive, really

That about says it. I'll get some more posts here in the bye and bye.

in transit

I'm more or less finished moving in to my righteous new dorm. It was sort of weird getting everything in. But my roommate is pretty cool, even if he doesn't really clean up after himself. The food and the classes are glorious. My only complaint is that whatever asshole who designed the dorm only put in 3 medium sized elevators in a building with 28 floors. So it's not uncommon to have a 10 minute wait for an elevator. Lame. But I spend most of my time with my brand new friends in the other dorm. To the point that I'm getting a cot to put in one of my friend's room. They have 8 elevators for 18 floors. The fuckers.

Photo class is amazing. They have roughly 3 entire office building sized floors dedicated to straight up film photography and another two to digital. I'm so goddamn happy to be here and not at MSOE. Sorry about the $15,000, mom and dad.

hip hip...

Back from Maine now. It was quite the time up at Hyde (my brother's boarding school). We yoga(ed)/meditated way the hell up in northern Maine, built a boat (13 ft. long. It floats too.), and volunteered at a camp for mentally and physically challenged kids. It was pretty intense. I felt inadequate as an intern - I really didn't lead the students well. Everyone says "Oh, Sean, you did fine." I don't believe them. They don't really believe what they're saying either. The guy in charge of the whole program threatened to fire me, so that speaks for itself. Oh well. There were lots of wonderful and real people I was able to meet. It makes me wish that I went to Hyde during high school, even though it would have been gruelling. Better than that sorry-assed Christian school I went too.

Right now I'm in Maine, living it up. Not really. It's boring as hell out here. Doing a camp counselor thing for 5 weeks, but there's no "campers" up here yet. Thus the boring. Ness. So. Don't call. Don't write. I promise to come back.

a thousand sorries

I've been a terrible blogger. All not blogging like I am/was. But alas, I will not be posting for the next several weeks. Most likely. I will be kickin' it, as it were, in Maine, as a proud new intern in this summer camp sort of thing. There will be backpacking and sea kayaking and boat building (really) and other "constructive activities". More tomorrow, though. I'm having trouble fighting the sleepy monster.

"Loneliness is not being alone. It is when someone loves you, and you don't have it in you to love them back."

-Xiu Xiu, as quoted from the poem The Wig Master

my tummy is sad.

Errr.... home sick today from work. It's been at least five years since I've been sick enough to stay home instead of doing something. Weird. I sort of thought I was better a little while ago, so I ate a bunch of sour cream and onion chips washed down with a glass of orange juice. Bad idea. Just jello and water for me, thanks. Anyways, here's a poem I started when up in Maine for my brother's graduation. I finished just the other day during work. Enjoy.

Open the door and walk out
on the world
Into blurry streets made of old photographs
Lined with houses built of memories
A smirking moon gazes
down from a sky white and black
Upon cars rusted with time, still moving
Encasing shrouded figures alone.

It's not quite sound that footfalls make
on crooked sidewalks -
No, it is a cry, a protest against this
Bad lot drawn by all
of existence to live in the gutters
But have knowledge of the stars always overhead
Never within reach.

Ah, but whose heart is it
that chokes on loneliness and bile
Whose vision that dims with tears and blood?
A wretched, wrecked creation
Of false starts and missteps
Of words and stuttrered and slurred just to
Leave anything that even glimmers with meaning
Lying on cold bathroom tile with no clothes on
Its last gasps reverberating in its distorted
fluorescent purgatory.

Open the door and walk out, just walk on
Because there's nothing here to see.

kittentits

So this is me. Why am I alive? What is this life for? Just another 18-24 demographic blip bemoaning the seeming purposelessness of life, the hard questions that have no real answer. It's hard. Allow me this, just to say it's so hard. It probably be better with friends, companions, a lover, what have you. But I don't keep everyone at arm's length, I keep them in a different zip code. I hide from people I used to know when I see them somewhere, pretending not to see them. Why? I have no answers, I have no answers, I have no answers...

hoo-ray for a new day

Got a song all finished. Not too embarrased about the lyrics, and the chord progression is borderline awesome. So here it is. Let me know what you think. Even if you think it sucks.

The lights tick past at a steady clip
My hair greases the window, my teeth tug on my lip
I look and I listen to the beauty that surrounds me
Maybe if I try real hard, and minding its fraility
It'll find its way to me too
Some days I can almost believe it's true

And soon, I'll sotp throwing away everything I do
In a fit of disgust
And soon, I'll start coaxing words back out of my mouth
And relearn how to speak

I think it's the vast distances between my thoughts
That keeps me disconnected like a two-piece cross

As if watching family movies in the living room

The dead speak again, but it's a bit too soon

But it's an urge to end this lonliness that spurs my feet
Past the sterile office builidings down into the sun-soaked street

These lyrics are copyright... umm... me, so please don't be a fucktard and steal them.

hold hands

It's Friday night. I am at home, watching TV. I am the kid that got lost during a field trip. I have been left behind at the museum. I am alone, and they're locking the doors. Why hasn't the bus turned around yet?

i'm back from the war, gimme some a'lovin'

Goodness gracious me it has been a while since I posted. Not sorry. Not even a little.

I had skin cancer removed from the back of my neck today. Fifteen stitches, a new family record. I sorta held the old record with ten. It's no big thing, though. To be honest, this sort of thing is pretty weak to be called cancer. Scott and I are still making a "I Kicked Cancer's Ass" tee.

I was at Target today and a familiar tune caught my ear. I turned and saw none other than Conor Oberest and friends wailing away with "Four Winds" on the TV. A little part of me died inside.

a sudden revelation

If I am perfectly honest, I truly dislike nearly everything I can remember creating.

the pagans had it right

22 Apr 07: First smell of summer detected. Drunken revelry followed shortly thereafter.

likes arts and crafts

"Happy Easter" just does not roll off the tongue very well. Not that I go around wishing everyone well, but it came up a couple of times at work. I stumbled over a reply each time. Well, just a thought. The holiday is kind of overrated - another Christian/pagan amalgamation. So I made my semi-annual appearance at church. Good sermon, I guess. The pastor did some name-dropping from The Odyssey and The Hobbit. Didn't see that one coming from an Easter message. He's a really intelligent guy - had lunch with him once.

It has been quite some time since I threw down some poetry on the ol' blog here. Enjoy, I guess.

I see sunlit gutters on cloudy days
Illuminating the cobblestone path to a salvation of choice
And the days pass on by like floats in parade
Like the sad "click click" of a tired metronome.

I see deserts made of memories
Buffeted by swirling winds of regret
I remember you as well, as I never fail to do
As a steady stream of colors draped over my waking life
As a gentle hum eminating from the darkened corners of my mind.

I see none of the details anymore
Just as the tides wash away fresh footprints
Leaving only the feeling behind
Just as the blurry past plays looped
In the abandoned cinema behind my eyes.

It's hard to see your image at all
Time has been quitely bleaching it clean
From the walls inside my head
Inevitably, though, one day the clicks will cease
And the slow parade will draw to a close
And on that day, perhaps will end
My starving sense of lonely longing for you.

bitch-tits?

Found this while searching for a suitable userpic for indietorrents. Easily one of the best things I've read/found on the internet. Go on. Give it a read. It's scary. Really scary. Like, Wolf Eyes scary*.


* First known instance of musical pretentiousness attributed to the author. Cupcakes will follow shortly.

meet the band

Well, thanks to my fancypants digital musical interface, Scott and I have officially started up our band. We are called The Prufrocks. We rock.... with hard cocks. Ha! Scott has laid claim to that moniker, though. All we need to do now is write us up some songs.

Me: Vocals, guitar, cello, unintentional background noise
Scott: Vocals, keyboard/synth, mandolin, violin, theremin?

i am in love with a man whose name i can't spell

On St. Patty's day, friends and I went to the Pabst to see Loney, Dear and Of Montreal. Stupifyingly good. In fact, our dear group's dance efforts were spotted by Loney, Dear and they said they appreciated it. Those Swedes. Always so kind. Kevin Barnes, fortunately, kept it in his pants for this show. Hooray! Instead, he merely pranced about in leotard onesies and other such assorted finery. Glam rock, how I love thee. This was my first show for either of these bands, and I must say that I adore them both so hard.

Et eez here! Et eez here! My firewire 410 digital recording interface came! It came all over the place! Ha ha... ehhh. So fun, it is. So much so, that I'm cutting this post short and throwing down some homemade folk guitar goodness. Really, though.

a visit

I got accepted at Columbia. Huzzah! In fact, there was an open house there today that I visited. It was overrun with scenesters, indie kids, and the like. What a refreshing change. At MSOE, I facebooked "Bright Eyes" under bands and got six hits. Six hits, for Christ's sake. Two or three for Elliott Smith, zero for the Decemberists, and zero for Neutral Milk Hotel. This was out of a student body of 2500. Definitely not my sort of place.

Anyways, the visit was quite the time - their photo lab(s) are huge. And state of the art. And awesome. I was not really planning on living in the student dorms, they're a bit too expensive for my taste. So, I was planning on sharing an apartment with a couple of guys from CLS. How fun.

nothing doing

It has been a little while, and I'm not sorry. My brothers are home from school, and the house seems a lot smaller now. Which is good. I had forgotten how fun it was to have them around.

I know this is all disjointed, but this is how it is, I guess. So I'll just come out and say it - I want to like my sister. I really want to have her be my friend, and to be cool. But it really hurts that I can't. I can see what she can be, and what she chooses to be, and it makes me sad. She chooses to be this spoiled cheerleader type, but... I don't know. It's a waste.

Had to clear out of the house today for a bit. I bummed around the Mills mall for a while, but didn't buy anything. It was nearly empty, and as a result, horribly depressing. With melancholy brimming out of every pocket, it was off to Borders for story time. And I stumbled upon a book of poetry by John Keats. I turned to the page marked by the ribbon sewn into the book and read this -

"To Sorrow,
I bade good-morrow,
And thought to leave her far away behind;
But cheerly, cheerly,
She loves me dearly;
She is so constant to me, and so kind:
I would deceive her
And so leave her,
But ah! she is so constant and so kind."

I do believe I have a certifiable man-crush.

and on and on

It's another day today. Same old thing again. Although I am completely capable of changing that, I usually don't. Curious.

I can't decide what's going on with me when it comes to Jessica. Sometimes I want to break it off, but then when I'm with her, I think maybe we have more in common than I had thought. It's hard to figure out exactly. But I probably am thinking a little more clearly when I am by myself. I don't know.

My 'performance' at open mic night went ok. I couldn't read the sheet music for the fingerstyle song, so that didn't work. This being my first time doing this, I sort of fumbled through the song I had written. A learning experience, I guess. Just struming chords is boring to listen to, so I've been working on adding stuff in between chord. My guitar teacher gave me a bunch of stuff. He is cerifiably awesome.

Some customer complained about the jazz music at work, so that means no more of that. The fucker. I hope he gets hit by a truck. My manager was kind enough to let me switch it to Bob Dylan. I told her that if a customer complained about "motherfuckin' Bob Dylan" I would throw them out of the store. She laughed. I bet she though I was kidding.

pegged

Just finished watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Go watch it. It is so beautiful. I wish I had someone to watch it with. Just me and a fuzzy, purring ball of cat in my lap. Lame.

Work today was uneventful, as always. Well, not quite. I finally snapped and turned off the radio. A man can only listen to Bon Jovi so many times. My limit was twice. Anyways, I grapped my ipod (yes, I realize that this makes me a trend whore) and my FM transmitter and laid down some sultry jazz for the customers to enjoy. Just the basics- John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Larry Corryel, some others. I'm not some jazz affecionado, but the radio just sucks. The only thing I like is an oldies station and this kick-ass program on NPR on Sunday nights. It's some guy doing stream-of-thought readings or something. So good.

Tomorow I'm doing my first show. Well, to call it a show would be an overstatement. It's open mic night at Swing State, and I will be making an appearance. Hoo haw. I only have one song finished, but I figured I'd do that and this fun fingerstyle piece I've been working on for a while. I hope it goes well.

Must practice now. Bye.

sorry sorry

Spent an hour or so dinking around, trying to add fun widgets to this dear old blog. Nothing doing. HTML makes me nervous. Oh well. Just trying to get more readers.

Probably going to break up with Jessica in the near future. Well, breaking up implies that there was something to break. Not so much. Just casusal friends that enjoy making out. I hope that it doesn't make her cry. I probably led her on a lot more than I should have. Shit.

I've had several people tell me that I should go to one of those online dating things. I'm not sure if I should be insulted or not. Leaning more towards not. Probably just need to get out more. Although I do feel quite silly being as old as I am and not having any idea about being in a relationship. A recurring theme. Err. I just want someone to love, as lame as that sounds. And I want to be loved.

on avery island

The name of the album I happen to be subscribing to right this very moment. It is a goddamn shame NMH had to break up. Such consistent, oven-fresh goodness lost forever. If you do happen to be looking for our dearest Jeff Mangum, here is the latest news on his whereabouts. Well, I was going to link to something. But it turns out, after research time approaching nigh 15 mintues, Mr. Mangum is probably somewhere in New York City. Apparently, the man pops up sporadically to play with Elephant 6 bands. Here's the link to the Wikipedia about him.

I have $69.85 in my bank account. There's a digital recorder thingy at Music Go Round that requires my immediate purchasing of it. The cost is $299.95. I shall no longer purchase gasoline. Or food. Once said digital recorder is in my possession, I shall drive to Scott's house with my guitar, cello, mics, cables, amp, and notebook and begin the setup. Then, with his fatty analog keyboard, we shall be divine. And greatly anger the remaining gods on Mt. Olympus.

communities?

I can't sleep. I wish that I didn't need rest. As if life wasn't short enough, this body has the need to sleep through 1/3 of it. But here we are. Me whining and you reading. So, a brief synopsis of whatever the hell popped into my head that I can remember.

Been bumming around on the web, trying to find a site with decent blogging stuff. Where there's a decent community. I always end up here. Even though there's no community, really. I'm basically just talking to myself here. And it is frustrating. I want to have some people from exotic place like England to talk to. Instead, I just have this blog and a flickr account, neither of which people seem to want to comment on. Fiddlesticks!

I can't muster up the willpower to detail a synopsis for you. So sorry to disappoint. There wasn't much worth remembering today. Another day of work. Another day of me spending too much damn time watching TV and doing nothing.

I am finding myself more and more wishing to go back in time. To when I was in 5th or 6th grade. I'd walk up to me and say, "Hey, me. Fuck this whole soccer and math and science thing. Get into photography. Get into music. Take up guitar. Take up cello. And take these CDs. This one is by Elliott Smith, there are a few others. Here's a list of tour dates for Neutral Milk Hotel and a homing beacon. It is essential that you try and tag Jeff Mangum behind the ear with this. Oh, and by the way, fuck Christianity. Just toss that shit right out the window." How much better it would have been. But it's all a waste of time. Nothing will come of it.

I don't know what it is, but I am furious with myself. I don't know why. I want to go join the army just to spite myself. I am sick. Of these walls, of my car dash, of the same grey landscape passing before my dull, unseeing eyes. I can't sit still. My skin is crawling. I can't stop tearing at my hair. Yargh! Errgh. Ehhhhhmmm. . Fuck! Fuck.

it turns out that kissing is a blast

So the title says it well. The girl I met at Quizno's (her name is Jessica, by the way) is really fun to hang out with. And she's really pretty and funny. I met her family the other day. The word 'quirky' comes to mind. But they are a blast. Although I think that I make her parents a bit nervous. Oh well. At first, I didn't think that we were good together. It was fairly awkward. But it turns out that we were both just being rather shy, and now that we are more comfortable around each other, everything's going well.

No one told me that making out was so fun. I feel very much let down - looking at you, Katie. Regardless... wow. The first time, before I left her house, my arms wouldn't stop shaking. It was like everything had quietly melted. I can barely remember when we kissed. But it wasn't awkward. It was like we had practiced it - like we were liquid. It was lovely.

{ [] }

I can adapt my personality.
To meet your needs.

I can exhale who I am.
And inhale who you want me to be.

I am a twenty year old newborn.
That sleeps in your cupped hands.

Please don't let me be alone.

and the light from your eyes will outlive us all.

Listening right now to "Amy in the White Coat" by Bright Eyes. If I had to pick a song to listen to before offing myself, this would probably be it. Most. Depressingly. Beautiful. Song. Ever. That is, until I find a new one. Give it two or three weeks.

Been bumming around flickr again. I am rather frightened. There are so many good photographers out there. It borders on absurd. Right on that edge there. How can I compete? I take shots and think they're pretty good. Nothing fantastic. But I'm still proud of them, kind of like a parent with an ugly kid or something. Then I, in my wanderings, look at other folk's stuff. People that are sixteen, seventeen, have just the most incredible shots, beautiful lighting. And then I go back to my stuff and am ashamed. I want to un-post them, but I don't. It wouldn't accomplish anything. There is nothing to do except keep on taking shots. I'm not sure how I'll get better by doing that. I want to use the good stuff on flickr as inspiration, but it just ends up as discouragement. Like a cripple watching a track meet.

I hate pitying myself like this. I just ran out of things to do.

more and less

Starbucks said no. The fuckers. Ah, well. I guess it's still just boring Black & Decker. It's the worst kind of boring - the kind where it's just shy of that point where you're not busy enough to get a good read in. And then nobody's happy.

This new flickr business has got me excited. And sad. Well, only a little sad. It seems that everyone there is an incredible photographer. I feel silly posting my stuff, and even sillier trying to get a portfolio together for college. On one of the college websites I found myself on, for laughs, I punched in my scores and numbers and such as if I was an incoming freshman, instead of a transfer. Full tuition, plus about 1/3 of room and board. Golly shucks. I do wish that that my college credit didn't make me a transfer student. But at least I will do some serious ass-kicking in the photography department when it comes to calculus and statics. Watch, like ten kids will show me up.

and on and on and on

I went snowboarding the other day. And now I hurt. But that is to be expected. A neat new trick I've learned is how to pop all my vertebrae back into place. So that's a timesaver. But going off snowboarding by myself is kind of lame. I mean, it's still cool, but it turns into more of something to kill the time than something I like to do. I don't know.

By the way, I'll eventually get some more photos up on flickr, but I haven't quite figured out how to set up a nice indoor shot. It is sort of important to get a variety of photos in my "portfolio". Which is kind of a pointless exercise now, because it seems that most colleges will just accept me regardless of any talent I may or may not possess. By most I just mean Columbia. So I'll be getting off my ass and applying somewhere else soon. Come on... scholarship!

dear diary...

So work was boring as all get out the other night. The weather really affects sales because the store I work at is in an outdoor mall. So it was boring in the store and cold and wet outside. And on top of that, I was really hungry. So I walk down to the only restaurant in the mall to grab a sandwich. It was boring there, too. As I was grabbing my necessary condiments, the girl ringing me up asked if I worked in the mall. I answered, then she asked if she could see my shoes. I was rather puzzled, and sort of mumbled something or another. She asked if they were Chucks, to which I said, "Why yes, yes they are. And I sort of drew all over them too." And she said something about seeing me before and wanting to give me her number. Then she blushed and said that she was really sorry about this being so awkward. I said not to worry about it and smiled a little. Finally my sandwich was ready and I was getting ready to leave. She handed me my receipt, then her number. Score.

I may be overracting, but no one ever gave me their number before. So I'm excited. And it's all due to my Chucks. Fan-fucking-tastic. I'm a'callin' her tomorry.

Fantastic Elastic!

This sexy, new template can best be described as... doubleplusgood. And moody. Meanwhile, I got around to making a flickr account. And here it is. Enjoy its hot, buttery goodness.

baking cookies with mumsie

So the downside of being employed part-time has reared its ugly (and snickering) head. There's not much to do. Except watch TV. And blog. It's pretty relaxing, I guess. Does free up quite a bit of time for music and reading. Also, I've been working on a short story, or novel, or what have you. It features a quiet limo driver named Dylan. I hope it doesn't turn out like a second-rate Murakami novel. That's all I have been reading as of late. Although I did pick up a book by Proust after watching Little Miss Sunshine. So maybe that will offset the mild crush I have on Haruki Murakami's writing style, as well as the man himself. I'm not holding out much hope. Either way, it's still a great way to learn how to write: ripping off other authors and adding a smidgen or two of your own stuff. Voila, I'm avant garde!

Dig that trippy music on the Murakami site.

and and and

My apologies, dear abandoned reader(s). The ol' computer has been out of commission for a while. So here I am, bloggin' it up at the local library. Errr.

It's been a long, uneventful trip these last couple of weeks. Just working. And doing nothing in between stints of working. Although I have been tooling around with my fancypants camera. I'll have to upload some shots to photobucket eventually.

Music has had me confounded the last week or two. I can't make a good song. All the shit I write down looks like it should belong to some third-rate, narcissistic emo band. And my chords all sound the same. I really want to be happy doing music, and I really think I could be. It just seems that there's something getting in the way of the all the good stuff that's in my head somewhere.