(no subject)
according to last year's sociology text, disgust is one of eight universally recognizable facial expressions. this is reassuring. right next to that fun factoid is a photo of a painted-faced zulu wearing the same expression anyone on the route 27 university-lawson bus is treated to on a daily basis if they so much as glance at me. and here i was thinking i was being obscure.
the haute-couture at the university of saskatchewan is incredible this year. pockets on arses are sparse, the dragon shirt is out, and the athletic crowd seems hard-struck by the advent of nike shox. newly broken mesh hats are in abundance here, and courageous faggots everywhere are wearing pink. an orange sea of empty faces bobbing in place at the high-traffic bottom of the arts ramp makes its inevitable return, an activity recent studies have shown to be closely related to spending one's entire summer getting pounded harder than a sixteen year old boy's car stereo.
i have a political studies class with brent davis. we sit side by side as comrades will. he has taken a particular liking to my cigarette collection. i have taken a particular liking to the way the lenses of his glasses darken when he steps outside.
in case anyone's wondering, i'm listening to an album that was rated very highly on pitchfork. like i think at least an 8.7. this song has 1940s sleuth movie soundtrack music and a lot of passionate screaming. it brims with mood, a dark energy and sense of direction permeating every song. it also has rivers of bubbling piano, droning sax and frenetic drums. it also makes me feel very unconventional and clever.
today is windy and rainy and i am lonely and tired. everyone who has abandoned me and is now reading this should eat shit and kill themselves immediately. this journal brims with mood, a dark energy and sense of direction permeating every sentence. i know. i've kept very busy being optimistic and productive, if anyone's concerned.
well geez. i could go on and on, but i have to get to work! good thing i packed a sandwich.
the haute-couture at the university of saskatchewan is incredible this year. pockets on arses are sparse, the dragon shirt is out, and the athletic crowd seems hard-struck by the advent of nike shox. newly broken mesh hats are in abundance here, and courageous faggots everywhere are wearing pink. an orange sea of empty faces bobbing in place at the high-traffic bottom of the arts ramp makes its inevitable return, an activity recent studies have shown to be closely related to spending one's entire summer getting pounded harder than a sixteen year old boy's car stereo.
i have a political studies class with brent davis. we sit side by side as comrades will. he has taken a particular liking to my cigarette collection. i have taken a particular liking to the way the lenses of his glasses darken when he steps outside.
in case anyone's wondering, i'm listening to an album that was rated very highly on pitchfork. like i think at least an 8.7. this song has 1940s sleuth movie soundtrack music and a lot of passionate screaming. it brims with mood, a dark energy and sense of direction permeating every song. it also has rivers of bubbling piano, droning sax and frenetic drums. it also makes me feel very unconventional and clever.
today is windy and rainy and i am lonely and tired. everyone who has abandoned me and is now reading this should eat shit and kill themselves immediately. this journal brims with mood, a dark energy and sense of direction permeating every sentence. i know. i've kept very busy being optimistic and productive, if anyone's concerned.
well geez. i could go on and on, but i have to get to work! good thing i packed a sandwich.