woah...
Hope you don't mind if I sit this one out.
My words but a whisper, your deafness a SHOUT.
I can make you feel, but I can't make you think.
Your sperm's in the gutter, your love's in the sink.
But you ride yourself over the fields.
And you make all your animal deals.
And your wisemen don't know how it feels.
To be thick as a brick.
And the sandcastle virtues are all swept away.
In the tidal destruction, the moral melee.
The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers
the newfangled way.
But your new shoes are worn at the heels and
your suntan does rapidly peel and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
I almost forgot this place existed. How is everyone (seriously, how is y'all)?
Let me just say that if your school doesn't have a "History of Rock n' Roll" class, it sucks. :p
Other than that, letsee... life... life...
How about school and work (and more school... and more work...)? How about me teaching grade 5, and loving it, but still not knowing if it's the career for me? How about the endless expanse of options I face upon graudating at the end of the year (a B.A. in English? Ah, what a career starter)? How about r'n'r being me new gf? How about my reintroduction to hip hop (the good kind: most hip-hop right now reminds me of rock in the late 70's)? How about my brother and I resolving to start a punk band (lert's hear it for three-chord songs)? How about Billy Talent with (more importantly) Anti-Flag and Rise Against in January? How about another fucking trip to Vegas, this time with the old highschool crew (I wanted to do California, because it's more fun for less money... and I am not exactly rolling in it)? How about I hate Jane Austen? How about lil ol' me as a poet in training? How about trying to start a hockey team at work? How about the Flames on a three game winning streak? How about the fact that 18 year old girls seem to crush on me a lot, and I don't know why? How about another pointless journal entry relaying personal information that could hardly be of any interest to anyone but myself (but then again, I guess that's most people's journal)?
Oh, here's a mini-rant (edit: rant means little to no continuity of thought):
Did I junt burnout on the whole bar/clubbing/partying scene too early? Did I start too early? I mean, I'm only 21. Why does it seem so completely vapid to me? Like, I can't just enjoy myself at those kinds of places. I seem to dislike the kind of people who do it. I dislike the midnless blaring music (and whether you're at a house or a club, it's the same fucking "I"m bringing sexy back/London Bridge/nononono... you have no fucking talent" music), the " 'omg, I am sooooo drunk right now' every thirty fucking seconds" girls, the tools who think they're pimps working the room looking anywhere they can for action, the overpriced drinks (if i'm at a club). Like, I like drinking, and I like music, and I like company... but why do so many party goers piss me off? Maybe this Vegas thing won't be as fun as I thought... maybe I just need to find the right "crowd." I mean, even when I party, I like conversation, and not totally mind-numbing, sit there and listen to her bitch about how her friend ditched her on Friday even though she made it very clear she would be at the duke at 10:00, or how he got so fucking drunk last weekend that he slept through Monday's classes conversation. Like, conversation with a fucking topic. Am I just waaaaay to bitter at the whole scene? I have no reason to be, and I really don't have a right to infringe on anyone's good time (whatever floats yer boat, right?) but, shyt, I just feel like killing the music, climbing atop the coffee table/bar and shouting at the top of my lungs: "is this really it? seriously? we all need to get a fucking life!" Who knows, maybe that "mood" tag would read something aside from "stressed" if I embraced their lifestyle with a little more ease.
Alright, I'm done. Did I mention I happened upon this journal while attempting to put off studying for Anthropology?
Keep On Rocking in the Free World.
My words but a whisper, your deafness a SHOUT.
I can make you feel, but I can't make you think.
Your sperm's in the gutter, your love's in the sink.
But you ride yourself over the fields.
And you make all your animal deals.
And your wisemen don't know how it feels.
To be thick as a brick.
And the sandcastle virtues are all swept away.
In the tidal destruction, the moral melee.
The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers
the newfangled way.
But your new shoes are worn at the heels and
your suntan does rapidly peel and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
I almost forgot this place existed. How is everyone (seriously, how is y'all)?
Let me just say that if your school doesn't have a "History of Rock n' Roll" class, it sucks. :p
Other than that, letsee... life... life...
How about school and work (and more school... and more work...)? How about me teaching grade 5, and loving it, but still not knowing if it's the career for me? How about the endless expanse of options I face upon graudating at the end of the year (a B.A. in English? Ah, what a career starter)? How about r'n'r being me new gf? How about my reintroduction to hip hop (the good kind: most hip-hop right now reminds me of rock in the late 70's)? How about my brother and I resolving to start a punk band (lert's hear it for three-chord songs)? How about Billy Talent with (more importantly) Anti-Flag and Rise Against in January? How about another fucking trip to Vegas, this time with the old highschool crew (I wanted to do California, because it's more fun for less money... and I am not exactly rolling in it)? How about I hate Jane Austen? How about lil ol' me as a poet in training? How about trying to start a hockey team at work? How about the Flames on a three game winning streak? How about the fact that 18 year old girls seem to crush on me a lot, and I don't know why? How about another pointless journal entry relaying personal information that could hardly be of any interest to anyone but myself (but then again, I guess that's most people's journal)?
Oh, here's a mini-rant (edit: rant means little to no continuity of thought):
Did I junt burnout on the whole bar/clubbing/partying scene too early? Did I start too early? I mean, I'm only 21. Why does it seem so completely vapid to me? Like, I can't just enjoy myself at those kinds of places. I seem to dislike the kind of people who do it. I dislike the midnless blaring music (and whether you're at a house or a club, it's the same fucking "I"m bringing sexy back/London Bridge/nononono... you have no fucking talent" music), the " 'omg, I am sooooo drunk right now' every thirty fucking seconds" girls, the tools who think they're pimps working the room looking anywhere they can for action, the overpriced drinks (if i'm at a club). Like, I like drinking, and I like music, and I like company... but why do so many party goers piss me off? Maybe this Vegas thing won't be as fun as I thought... maybe I just need to find the right "crowd." I mean, even when I party, I like conversation, and not totally mind-numbing, sit there and listen to her bitch about how her friend ditched her on Friday even though she made it very clear she would be at the duke at 10:00, or how he got so fucking drunk last weekend that he slept through Monday's classes conversation. Like, conversation with a fucking topic. Am I just waaaaay to bitter at the whole scene? I have no reason to be, and I really don't have a right to infringe on anyone's good time (whatever floats yer boat, right?) but, shyt, I just feel like killing the music, climbing atop the coffee table/bar and shouting at the top of my lungs: "is this really it? seriously? we all need to get a fucking life!" Who knows, maybe that "mood" tag would read something aside from "stressed" if I embraced their lifestyle with a little more ease.
Alright, I'm done. Did I mention I happened upon this journal while attempting to put off studying for Anthropology?
Keep On Rocking in the Free World.