today i let the computer suck out my brain. ::shrug:: better than the tv.
this here's the story about billy joe and bobby sue
two young lovers with nothing better to do
sit around the house
get high
and watch the tube
this is what happens when they decide to cut loose.
***
so my last post was unnecessarily morbid and down. just about five minutes after i posted it, i heard the door click open... and in he came. of course. he was annoyed that i would even question whether or not he was coming home. it was just a busy night at the restaurant. my insecurity is hurting me more than i ever realize.
he told me that there were strippers inside of the private party room. it made me a little uneasy... because sometimes strippers can be sort of fun and sexy, and sometimes they can just be downright sleazy. i asked him if he bussed that room all night; and he said that he gave the job over to the other overly-excited-about-strippers bus-boy. hee hee. at least he doesn't have to blow a gasket just because there are some bare boobs around. some guys are just ridiculous about things like that. (and that *luckY* busboy that got to see the naked girls had to clean up all the puke that the excitable men were providing all night long... hahahhahhahahahahahahah.
last night we. smoked blunts. played with kitty. got some milk and cookies. watched kill bill on shawn's computer. (i wasn't too impressed at all.) hung around some more. went to the grocery store and got potato pancake mix. had a latke party. (i ate lots of pink grapefruit.) watched ghost world. (i liked it better this time than the last, and steve buchemi sort of reminds me of ryan from burbis in a way.) stayed up a little longer, and finally layed down with one another at 11am.
he goes to work at 7pm on saturdays.
i was still in bed when he left.
it's so strange to kiss him goodbye.
i'm so weak.
today i talked to miss arley rose. and she invited me for a movie night on st. marks somewhere, but she proceeded to sign off before we could trade meeting up sort of information. i have no phone. i have no friends. i have nothing to do tonight so i'm just going to sit in front of this thing. that's right. and drink orange juice. (for some reason i like having orange juice in the fridge. makes me feel homey or something.) and keep on rockin' me baby... keep on rockin' me rockin' me... baby baby baby.
i especially like that movie ghost world because all of the outfits worn by adults look like they were picked out by normal people; not by movie people. and all of the dorky people that the girls observe and make fun of are so possibly real. billy said that it must have been awesome to see that movie "as a girl" and i never really thought about it until he said it. when she sleeps with the seymour character when she was drunk, and then freaks about it the next day... i'm just shaking my head.
i'm trying to share some pictures from the other friday, and of last night.
resizing and all that jazz just takes so long.
i'm so lazy when it comes to the computer now-a-days.
it's strange to be in this house on my own. i sort of feel like i'm visiting. but all of my things are here. i turn on the television. (first time i've had one in my own home in about 8 or so years.) and it feels even more like a stranger than when it's a dark box. i've never felt more comfortable with the door locked, but sometimes the noises in this building prompt me to jump up and make sure the knob is turned. we leave the door unlocked when we're not home... but it's strange to me to feel safer behind a lock. i've got my kitty to protect me.
stone temple pilots - plush
give me back the days of grunge.
please.
when the cute boys had dirty hair that they never looked at in the mirror.
not dirty hair that they fill with goop and dirty hair products and mold and shape for hours in front of the mirror. (i know nothing of that kid holland who lives in a dorm that a few of my friends live in. but i've only spent a combined few hours around the kid, and i've had my fill of hearing about his hair worries.) i get so annoyed on the inside.
ok.
so maybe i don't really want *grunge* back.
but i remember when all the cool kids had big baggy clothes. not who's pants are the tightest. oh god. this isn't even a complaint i can start to elaborate on. we all know what i'm talking about and we're all too 'mo to be talking about it ourselves.
ha. ha. ha.
queens of the stone age - god is in the radio
i was just informed that the god damned series is over. haha new york. losers.
(i was really getting sick of all the buzz. especially in manhatten. too much.)
today i was talking to scott for a little while. he said that his head was clouded. i assumed he meant with something... but he said that he meant that he just couldn't think of anything at all. i think that's happening to me. maybe i'm just a mental hypochondriac. but why am i so stagnant lately? i want to play music everyday. i want to make more creative... things? i can't say art. a friend, jessica was over the other night and she said... well, you know. all of our friends are artists, but none of them think of it like that. it's so true. what else are we all doing? it used to be not so cool. it used to be and undertone. but what am i supposed to do when all i have are some unfocused dreams in a city full of kids who are producing, and progressing every day. i don't like such competitive situations. probably why i never went away to college. i don't like the feeling that no matter what i do, there's something better out there already. i have to stop caring about that. i never used to. i used to doodle pages and pages and pages. i used to make all sorts of little clay monsters. all for myself. now, and i know that it's at least partially because i'm never really alone anymore, i'm always worried about the end product instead of just immersing myself in the process. process. process. i think i miss going to school a little bit. if missing stealing the supplies, and getting my own ideas while i ignored the assignments school. cause that's basically what i was up to while i was there.
i would make such an average english teacher.
i can just imagine myself with that exasperated look.
you didn't do your homework again?
why don't you try to use a more descriptive word.
how many english teachers in the school system are phenomenal writers?
i don't know.
maybe more than i think.
i'd love to teach young children art.
not all the stuffy death art that's around me and swimming in my head right now.
(i don't even mean literal death. i just mean stuck up. pressured.)
keep them working on projects.
show them what's possible.
maybe give them some ideas... be amazed at what they come up with on their own.
but.
in order to have a *real* job like that,
i have to have a degree.
which we all know means that i have to go and do some sort of devotion of hours to a school type of institution. even if i wanted to start my own artdaycare, or camp or something i'd still need some sort of certificatin.
smashing pumpkins - 1979
this song *is* blasting it with kate in her old house in nyack. we used to put on our bikinis in the winter time and run around her house in the snow with bare feet. we used to compete with eachother (silently of course) who could sing all the words without messing up. she always won. everyone always wins. (except for me of course.) i hate loving a song. just singing it out loud, and getting a lyric wrong. it's happened more than once. i hate being corrected... maybe i should use that hate and translate it into a little bit of understanding towards other people. (i'm so openly critical. so questioning of one's motivations, reasoning etc. but i can't stand being picked apart myself.)
i'll think of how many times i've stood in front of my dad, in the midst of conversation... and i just can't handle it. i break down and cry because he's asked me a question that i'm ashamed to answer. about school. about money. about petty car accidents. thank god he's not really into the whole war on drugs, so the marijuana issue was quietly and peacefully out in the open while i was growing up... but why am i so weak sometimes? i can't handle just saying that i can't handle everything by myself... so i just wait until the breaking point. and then what? freak out. flip out. run out.
i sometimes wish that i had the will of a runner inside of me.
i've only known a few kids who have run because it's rewarding, not just because it keeps you in shape.
those kids who feel like such shit about themselves when their times go up.
when they can't push themselves as hard.
what if i got up every day and did all of the things that i wanted to.
i used to laugh at all the kids in high school who did their work.
losers.
why are you letting these dumb ass grown up tell you what to spend your time doing?
now i wonder,
maybe i should have just practiced shutting up and getting things done.
because i suck at it now.
i resized and renamed a bunch of pictures. but fotopic just isn't working right.
so frustrating.
i've wasted a lot of time in front of this thing today.
just.
i don't even know what.
there's a silly movie where val kilmer's friend gets a little tattoo of his face on his arm in order to pay homage to val kilmer. very strange. but it's so cool looking because it's just such simple lines, yet still so recognizable. (in it, everyone's a sick meth head, see it?) i'm trying to make line pictures of billy's face... but i'm not getting the exact right thing yet.
i wish my mom would come and visit me one day.
good thing i have my cat.
another living breathing thing in the house keeps me sane.
and i'd rather be spitting here... than drooling in front of the television.
((if you've made it this far into the post, i apologize and continue with this...))
beck - devil's haircut
i'm listening to my roommate shawn brophy's mp3's. he's got at least one song by every single band you've ever heard of. when you click on that band name... instead of a nice album track list appearing... you see that mr. brophy has downloaded every single to grace the earth in the past year or so. so fucking lame. he's a lame kid in general. he's in boston for the weekend, it's so much more peaceful when no one's here. last time he came home from boston he ranted about how much he loved it because there were lots of white people around, and all of the girls were college girls who wore tight pants. i wanted to smack him. the fact that he was in a jock-y dorm with a bunch of his jock-y friends who only know jap-y girls is completely besides the point. i think i hate living with him. as a human being... he's not really worth any thought besides slightly feeling sorry for him. and his parents make him eat some happy pills that make him annoyingly friendly. it's impossible to get a real thought or opinion out of his head. he's made of what he sees. top sellers and hits all the way.
ggggrrrrrrrrrrrr.
when i'm alone, i have way too much time to think.
stuck in this little cubicle alone, (i'm the only one who can make myself leave this apartment, but it just seems so... useless. so i'll say stuck.) i've been looking up fantasy things online for the past few days. vw campers. houses in the woods. jobs on farms. jobs on cruise ships. crochet things. (i don't even know how. i just want to know how.) click click click. i just need to save save save. (i don't think i know how.) i felt so rich at the beginning of the summer. i'd worked at the advertising agency for long enough to just have too much money around me. i didn't really have any bills. now i feel the poorest ever. brokest poorest. the other day montana was eating a bologna and cheese sandwich from our own refrigerator, and he was like... damn. this is a ten cent sandwich. i giggled because i remember my dad telling me and nina that him and mom would be able to feed our whole family for 2 dollars a day. it's all about a loaf of bread, a can of tomato soup, a can of sardines and a half gallon of milk. i giggled then, and i giggle now. (and i won't eat sardines now.) but it's so true. living cheaply is upon us.
idioteque - radiohead
when this song plays on shawn's itunes a little picture pops up in the "now playing" box that says:
do not cry out or hit the alarm
tuck the kids in safe tonight
shut the eyes in the cupboard
do not cry out
you'll get the loneliest feeling
that either way you turn
i'll be there
open up your skull
i'll be there
usually there's just a picture of the album art or something.
maybe that's what i need to do for myself...
just put on some radiohead in headphones and try to forget that i'm alive.
just think.
i'm one of those pathetic kids that thinks radiohead really means something to them.
i do like their imagery.
blah.
i think i finally have pictures to share.
beck - two turn tables and a microphone
this picture is from right before a shower. i took it before i went to sleep this morning at eleven am.
from meghan's crazy party last? friday.
as you can see, me and billy snapped a zillion pictures with scott and shannon : ) it was so awesome that they came along... (did i mention the drama of getting home in scott's broken car? i don't even know if i did. man... what a night it was.)
me and ryan! (how come he's everybody's favorite all of the sudden? i thought he was mine!)
billy looks so good : ) from while burbis was playing...
me and the birthday girl's boobs!
***
so we had another show... last weekend, the sunday after that party. my very good friend named vicki took a whole bunch of pictures... so if you'd like to see pictures of my band playing... or lots of silly people galavanting, click on this...
the zep - dazed and confused.
and there's more! hee hee.
who is that cute boy in the blue hat??? (from last night.)
me slaving away over the potato pancakes ; ) yum.
and this one is just amazing. a girl i know named sara took a whole bunch of pictures of my little sister nina. lots of you know her... but i just wanted to make her lips pink in this picture. she posted it and a few others in her own journal... but doesn't she just look like a movie star???
i guess that's it.
i'm going to press post now.
this had better all work.
give me some words.
some love.
i'll be in rockland tomorrow.
xo
two young lovers with nothing better to do
sit around the house
get high
and watch the tube
this is what happens when they decide to cut loose.
***
so my last post was unnecessarily morbid and down. just about five minutes after i posted it, i heard the door click open... and in he came. of course. he was annoyed that i would even question whether or not he was coming home. it was just a busy night at the restaurant. my insecurity is hurting me more than i ever realize.
he told me that there were strippers inside of the private party room. it made me a little uneasy... because sometimes strippers can be sort of fun and sexy, and sometimes they can just be downright sleazy. i asked him if he bussed that room all night; and he said that he gave the job over to the other overly-excited-about-strippers bus-boy. hee hee. at least he doesn't have to blow a gasket just because there are some bare boobs around. some guys are just ridiculous about things like that. (and that *luckY* busboy that got to see the naked girls had to clean up all the puke that the excitable men were providing all night long... hahahhahhahahahahahahah.
last night we. smoked blunts. played with kitty. got some milk and cookies. watched kill bill on shawn's computer. (i wasn't too impressed at all.) hung around some more. went to the grocery store and got potato pancake mix. had a latke party. (i ate lots of pink grapefruit.) watched ghost world. (i liked it better this time than the last, and steve buchemi sort of reminds me of ryan from burbis in a way.) stayed up a little longer, and finally layed down with one another at 11am.
he goes to work at 7pm on saturdays.
i was still in bed when he left.
it's so strange to kiss him goodbye.
i'm so weak.
today i talked to miss arley rose. and she invited me for a movie night on st. marks somewhere, but she proceeded to sign off before we could trade meeting up sort of information. i have no phone. i have no friends. i have nothing to do tonight so i'm just going to sit in front of this thing. that's right. and drink orange juice. (for some reason i like having orange juice in the fridge. makes me feel homey or something.) and keep on rockin' me baby... keep on rockin' me rockin' me... baby baby baby.
i especially like that movie ghost world because all of the outfits worn by adults look like they were picked out by normal people; not by movie people. and all of the dorky people that the girls observe and make fun of are so possibly real. billy said that it must have been awesome to see that movie "as a girl" and i never really thought about it until he said it. when she sleeps with the seymour character when she was drunk, and then freaks about it the next day... i'm just shaking my head.
i'm trying to share some pictures from the other friday, and of last night.
resizing and all that jazz just takes so long.
i'm so lazy when it comes to the computer now-a-days.
it's strange to be in this house on my own. i sort of feel like i'm visiting. but all of my things are here. i turn on the television. (first time i've had one in my own home in about 8 or so years.) and it feels even more like a stranger than when it's a dark box. i've never felt more comfortable with the door locked, but sometimes the noises in this building prompt me to jump up and make sure the knob is turned. we leave the door unlocked when we're not home... but it's strange to me to feel safer behind a lock. i've got my kitty to protect me.
stone temple pilots - plush
give me back the days of grunge.
please.
when the cute boys had dirty hair that they never looked at in the mirror.
not dirty hair that they fill with goop and dirty hair products and mold and shape for hours in front of the mirror. (i know nothing of that kid holland who lives in a dorm that a few of my friends live in. but i've only spent a combined few hours around the kid, and i've had my fill of hearing about his hair worries.) i get so annoyed on the inside.
ok.
so maybe i don't really want *grunge* back.
but i remember when all the cool kids had big baggy clothes. not who's pants are the tightest. oh god. this isn't even a complaint i can start to elaborate on. we all know what i'm talking about and we're all too 'mo to be talking about it ourselves.
ha. ha. ha.
queens of the stone age - god is in the radio
i was just informed that the god damned series is over. haha new york. losers.
(i was really getting sick of all the buzz. especially in manhatten. too much.)
today i was talking to scott for a little while. he said that his head was clouded. i assumed he meant with something... but he said that he meant that he just couldn't think of anything at all. i think that's happening to me. maybe i'm just a mental hypochondriac. but why am i so stagnant lately? i want to play music everyday. i want to make more creative... things? i can't say art. a friend, jessica was over the other night and she said... well, you know. all of our friends are artists, but none of them think of it like that. it's so true. what else are we all doing? it used to be not so cool. it used to be and undertone. but what am i supposed to do when all i have are some unfocused dreams in a city full of kids who are producing, and progressing every day. i don't like such competitive situations. probably why i never went away to college. i don't like the feeling that no matter what i do, there's something better out there already. i have to stop caring about that. i never used to. i used to doodle pages and pages and pages. i used to make all sorts of little clay monsters. all for myself. now, and i know that it's at least partially because i'm never really alone anymore, i'm always worried about the end product instead of just immersing myself in the process. process. process. i think i miss going to school a little bit. if missing stealing the supplies, and getting my own ideas while i ignored the assignments school. cause that's basically what i was up to while i was there.
i would make such an average english teacher.
i can just imagine myself with that exasperated look.
you didn't do your homework again?
why don't you try to use a more descriptive word.
how many english teachers in the school system are phenomenal writers?
i don't know.
maybe more than i think.
i'd love to teach young children art.
not all the stuffy death art that's around me and swimming in my head right now.
(i don't even mean literal death. i just mean stuck up. pressured.)
keep them working on projects.
show them what's possible.
maybe give them some ideas... be amazed at what they come up with on their own.
but.
in order to have a *real* job like that,
i have to have a degree.
which we all know means that i have to go and do some sort of devotion of hours to a school type of institution. even if i wanted to start my own artdaycare, or camp or something i'd still need some sort of certificatin.
smashing pumpkins - 1979
this song *is* blasting it with kate in her old house in nyack. we used to put on our bikinis in the winter time and run around her house in the snow with bare feet. we used to compete with eachother (silently of course) who could sing all the words without messing up. she always won. everyone always wins. (except for me of course.) i hate loving a song. just singing it out loud, and getting a lyric wrong. it's happened more than once. i hate being corrected... maybe i should use that hate and translate it into a little bit of understanding towards other people. (i'm so openly critical. so questioning of one's motivations, reasoning etc. but i can't stand being picked apart myself.)
i'll think of how many times i've stood in front of my dad, in the midst of conversation... and i just can't handle it. i break down and cry because he's asked me a question that i'm ashamed to answer. about school. about money. about petty car accidents. thank god he's not really into the whole war on drugs, so the marijuana issue was quietly and peacefully out in the open while i was growing up... but why am i so weak sometimes? i can't handle just saying that i can't handle everything by myself... so i just wait until the breaking point. and then what? freak out. flip out. run out.
i sometimes wish that i had the will of a runner inside of me.
i've only known a few kids who have run because it's rewarding, not just because it keeps you in shape.
those kids who feel like such shit about themselves when their times go up.
when they can't push themselves as hard.
what if i got up every day and did all of the things that i wanted to.
i used to laugh at all the kids in high school who did their work.
losers.
why are you letting these dumb ass grown up tell you what to spend your time doing?
now i wonder,
maybe i should have just practiced shutting up and getting things done.
because i suck at it now.
i resized and renamed a bunch of pictures. but fotopic just isn't working right.
so frustrating.
i've wasted a lot of time in front of this thing today.
just.
i don't even know what.
there's a silly movie where val kilmer's friend gets a little tattoo of his face on his arm in order to pay homage to val kilmer. very strange. but it's so cool looking because it's just such simple lines, yet still so recognizable. (in it, everyone's a sick meth head, see it?) i'm trying to make line pictures of billy's face... but i'm not getting the exact right thing yet.
i wish my mom would come and visit me one day.
good thing i have my cat.
another living breathing thing in the house keeps me sane.
and i'd rather be spitting here... than drooling in front of the television.
((if you've made it this far into the post, i apologize and continue with this...))
beck - devil's haircut
i'm listening to my roommate shawn brophy's mp3's. he's got at least one song by every single band you've ever heard of. when you click on that band name... instead of a nice album track list appearing... you see that mr. brophy has downloaded every single to grace the earth in the past year or so. so fucking lame. he's a lame kid in general. he's in boston for the weekend, it's so much more peaceful when no one's here. last time he came home from boston he ranted about how much he loved it because there were lots of white people around, and all of the girls were college girls who wore tight pants. i wanted to smack him. the fact that he was in a jock-y dorm with a bunch of his jock-y friends who only know jap-y girls is completely besides the point. i think i hate living with him. as a human being... he's not really worth any thought besides slightly feeling sorry for him. and his parents make him eat some happy pills that make him annoyingly friendly. it's impossible to get a real thought or opinion out of his head. he's made of what he sees. top sellers and hits all the way.
ggggrrrrrrrrrrrr.
when i'm alone, i have way too much time to think.
stuck in this little cubicle alone, (i'm the only one who can make myself leave this apartment, but it just seems so... useless. so i'll say stuck.) i've been looking up fantasy things online for the past few days. vw campers. houses in the woods. jobs on farms. jobs on cruise ships. crochet things. (i don't even know how. i just want to know how.) click click click. i just need to save save save. (i don't think i know how.) i felt so rich at the beginning of the summer. i'd worked at the advertising agency for long enough to just have too much money around me. i didn't really have any bills. now i feel the poorest ever. brokest poorest. the other day montana was eating a bologna and cheese sandwich from our own refrigerator, and he was like... damn. this is a ten cent sandwich. i giggled because i remember my dad telling me and nina that him and mom would be able to feed our whole family for 2 dollars a day. it's all about a loaf of bread, a can of tomato soup, a can of sardines and a half gallon of milk. i giggled then, and i giggle now. (and i won't eat sardines now.) but it's so true. living cheaply is upon us.
idioteque - radiohead
when this song plays on shawn's itunes a little picture pops up in the "now playing" box that says:
do not cry out or hit the alarm
tuck the kids in safe tonight
shut the eyes in the cupboard
do not cry out
you'll get the loneliest feeling
that either way you turn
i'll be there
open up your skull
i'll be there
usually there's just a picture of the album art or something.
maybe that's what i need to do for myself...
just put on some radiohead in headphones and try to forget that i'm alive.
just think.
i'm one of those pathetic kids that thinks radiohead really means something to them.
i do like their imagery.
blah.
i think i finally have pictures to share.
beck - two turn tables and a microphone
this picture is from right before a shower. i took it before i went to sleep this morning at eleven am.
from meghan's crazy party last? friday.
as you can see, me and billy snapped a zillion pictures with scott and shannon : ) it was so awesome that they came along... (did i mention the drama of getting home in scott's broken car? i don't even know if i did. man... what a night it was.)
me and ryan! (how come he's everybody's favorite all of the sudden? i thought he was mine!)
billy looks so good : ) from while burbis was playing...
me and the birthday girl's boobs!
***
so we had another show... last weekend, the sunday after that party. my very good friend named vicki took a whole bunch of pictures... so if you'd like to see pictures of my band playing... or lots of silly people galavanting, click on this...
the zep - dazed and confused.
and there's more! hee hee.
who is that cute boy in the blue hat??? (from last night.)
me slaving away over the potato pancakes ; ) yum.
and this one is just amazing. a girl i know named sara took a whole bunch of pictures of my little sister nina. lots of you know her... but i just wanted to make her lips pink in this picture. she posted it and a few others in her own journal... but doesn't she just look like a movie star???
i guess that's it.
i'm going to press post now.
this had better all work.
give me some words.
some love.
i'll be in rockland tomorrow.
xo