I have no life. I have no drivers license. I feel dirty. So dirty. Why do i feel dirty?

I have no life because i actually went to a John Diego football game on friday. I had the lovely job of spotting the game which is almost as bad as watching football, only with more stress and a free bottle of water. Oh Boy! Really it wasn't that bad, but i haven't the faintest idea about what's going on. Like that whole but slapping thing. WTF? I just don't get why the homophobes are touching each others asses. And that whole spandex pants thing throws me off too. I just don't understand.

So once and for all : I am seventeen. I am not narcoleptic. There is no rare medical conditions which precludes my getting a drivers license. There is but one reason that i'm not driving; I have to drive with the instructor for two hours. That's it. That's all. I have my road hour, and I have a car. All i have to do is call the instructor, but i'm scared shytless just thinking of calling him. It's the thinking that kills.

I worked in Mr. Walsh's yard pulling up patio bricks so that i can put them right back. I didn't volunteer to do this as much as i was volunteered -conversely, i volunteered for the football game-, but i still had some fun, playing in the dirt and sand. You know it's really fun to just sit on your arse and make piles of bricks to look like houses and castles. It reminded me of when i was three or two when i had Duplo blocks. I'd spend hours playing around with my little train made Duplo and Lego. Back then the pieces where so big i thought that i could build a tower tall enough to piece the sky, and now i can barely pick up the pieces with my big stubby fingers. Sometimes i feel big, then i stand next to someone tall.

Finally, I just read something really dirty. Really, really dirty. I was looking for that "i see you baby, shaking that ass" song's actual title so i could look on winMX for it and i thought i had found a link that would have. I turned out to be disgusting. It was disturbing. Yet i still looked, like a motorist driving by an accident. I feel so dirty.

Saturday, August 31, 2002	11:44 p.m.

WHAT'S THAT SMELL? It smells like teen spirit!

Friday, August 30, 2002	09:57 p.m.

One more time.

"you can turn your back on a person, but you can never turn your back on drug - especially when it's waving a razor sharp hunting knife in your eye"
-Velvet Acid Christ

Coffee, my old friend, where are you?

Wednesday, August 28, 2002	11:33 p.m.

More meat for the dogs.

In my previous entry, i probalby sounded mildy depressed, but I'm not. Rather, i'm terribly depressed. The kind that hides behind pleasantries and condescending remarks, like a clowns makeup. It's better when i'm away from my family but they're always there, behind the corner, in the office, talking at me in my room. Is there no peace? Is there no justice? Damnit, get what will they do when i'm gone to college and life? I really don't want to their hobby. And telling me to do my homework has never effected whether or not i actually do it. never. oh well.

Wednesday, August 28, 2002	11:25 p.m.

bitter herbs

Naturemn, i've heard "cowgirl". It's marvelous. I enjoy it greatly.

Life is chaotic. Since school has begun i feel like a fish out of water. My chums are to college, and i am alone. During lunch, i'm am alone, even when with friends, and classes are longer than my attention span. Hopefully, i'll be more at ease next week, but for now, the landscape is killing me.

Wednesday, August 28, 2002	11:16 p.m.

Another day in the halls of christendom! A return to the old ways of evasion and key words and hugs. School is sad and pathetic. Classes which don't teach, or don't challenge. But there is light. I'll meet all the graduation requirements by the end of first semester's end, though neither the administration nor the parents will let me get the fu ck out of dodge.

Monday, August 26, 2002	11:24 a.m.

I'd be nicer if you were smarter.

I hate people. I really do. Their not to intellegent on the whole and they are too bright in person neither. Case in point. My father and i were at a model shop buying paints. The cashier owed us 99 cents. My dad offered him a penny to make it a dollar, but this guy refused because he had already printed the receipt. Come on, it's simple addition. Instead we had to stand at the register while he counted out 99 cents twice(he knocked something on the floor and didn't trust us so he put it back in the register). great gains for the mentally insane.
Here's another: My Friends! They loan me money knowing full well that i'll never pay them back. If they just accepted that it's really a gift it would all work out, but they don't. It makes me feel like i'm using them. so sad.

Wednesday, August 21, 2002	08:50 a.m.

He'd say "oi! to the punks" and "oi! to the skins" and "oi! to the world and everybody wins!"

I made a shoe,
out of cow,
now i live in anarchy.

anarchy.

I hate church. Not so much the talking bit, but the concept of being seen. Why is it important to be highly regarded by people you wouldn't other wise spend five minutes in the same auditorium with? The concept eludes me, like breakfast, which is still two hours away. snergle.

So i got the one thing i've desired since seventh grade. Every summer i've schemed and schmoozed to get it, but it always fell through the floor at the last minute. Like last year the woman who was gonna' du it decided to move away a month before agreed date. Wtf, we had planned it for so long, and she just brushed it off, as if i wasn't important to her. I cried, but i got over it. It took four woman in Evanston Wy of all places its to get the dirty job done. And it was good. Very good. I'll remember it for the rest of my life. The way these four middle aged woman fluttered about me, not imposing snap judgements but rather working with awe and wonder, like a child who finds a working vaccuum tube in an old radio. It's odd how different two groups could be. The stylists in Sandy (my home town) always gave me funny looks whenever i talked about what i wanted, but these people did it with enthusiasm and vigor, not even a moments questioning look. And i once made fun of these poeple as hicks and hillbillies. Afterwards i felt like a new man, tall a the sky, and wise like a cloud. I finally did it. The summer cut, my mohawk. I've had it now since june and it has been wonderful. It never was red or blue or green in color, but still it was sharp and clean, like a piece of paper. Woe to the one who must cut it, her floor will be soaked with tears.

Monday, August 12, 2002	03:04 a.m.

What the FUCK is "Edgy" rock? Thats no damn description! Knives have edges, papers have edges, cd's have edges. What makes a band "edgy"? Is it the fact that they cut themselves on stage? Is it that scar on the frontman's nuts when he tried to rape a groupie? i don't think so. No, it's lazy ass reviewers who don't care about the music. If they did they might try to explain what was so "edgy". snergle

Thursday, August 8, 2002	12:09 a.m.

Insomnia, REAL and IMAGINED

What Shall I Say?
I know! I'll talk about my life, like i used to, back before the sun first rose only long enough hit the snooze button. Hmmm. A tempting idea.

i wokeup today around twelvish to the blaring call of my mother telling me that i had a phone call. I already knew it was Annie (Both a gut feeling and she's about the only one who calls nowadays). I quickly pulled on some pants(you should always were pants when you talk to girls, especially the random kind). So we have a nice little chat and decide to hangout around two. Almost immediately following, my good friend, Mr Juan Diego called. He wanted to go swimming in the belle's canyon resevior(about a mile, mile and a half from my house). it a was a bloody hot day, so i said sure. Quickly canceled with Annie, and we were off to the resevoir. In retrospect, it was pretty mean of me to ditch annie, but, knye. The water was cold, and i turned blue(actually a nice shade of purple), and i had lots of fun. Then he headed off to Kent's house(Kent = Mr. JD). Cardboard pizza. mmm. Then we headed of to see "insomnia". We got to the theatre early, but discovered that i had left my money at home, so we quick like a bunny sped to my home to get money out of my curious george bank(should i really tell all of you were my cache is?) and just before i opened the door, the phone rang. It was my father. He was talking about how i should do anything till i get my summer school shyte done so i, being of the firm belief that it's easier in some instances to ask forgiveness, didn't tell him about the movie. Later this will come to bite me in the ass.

Wednesday, August 7, 2002	12:46 a.m.

A Small Stumble for Mankind

An New Layout! An Concept Several Months in the Making!

Wednesday, August 7, 2002	12:28 a.m.

A Chalky Day.

The fog is all inclusive like a great white blanket. It surrounds and suffocates those who wrap themselves inside it's cool fluffy mists.

Wednesday, August 7, 2002	12:13 a.m.