Forgiveness is a word action takes heart
Fuckballshitcock.
I figure thats a good way to start off an entry.
So it's been hot.
So.
God.
Damn.
Motherfucking.
Hot.
I'm standing inside my air conditioned house (which is about 12) and wearing jeans, wrapped up in a blanket, in front of my sliding glass door upstairs, pointing and laughing at all the people at the park.
They hate me.
So the summer boredom of not writing as much for whatever reason is setting in, and I want to write, so I got a really random idea today for a short movie I want to start to...write.
The basis is either one of two things. A sequel to a movie I havent made yet, about a superhero who is really bland and mundane, and in the end just dies really pointlessly. Like chokes on a cracker, or cancer or something. But this way, if it's a sequel to something that never occurred, if I get bored, I can make the first one and fill in the gaps. But also have him die in the end of the first one. Just to fuck with people. Or maybe only make a sequel, and a prequil. No original.
The other idea is a mainly improv-based documentary style movie about the life of a retired superhero. Paying bills, doing laundry, asking random people on the street for autographs. Stuff like that. Then at the end, he saves someone from something (some sort of car crash, I dont know) and says "Yep, I think things are finally looking up." and it immediately cuts to a doctors office saying "You have cancer." and then the credits roll with cheery music.
I think the documentary style would be much better, cheaper, and easier to do. And would take less writing, and more spontanaity, which I like. I'd call it "Behind the mask" or something like that. Ripping off "Behind the glory" from VHI or whatever.
Anyways.
Tomorrow me and my dad are tearing down the back stairs, and building new ones. He says it will take 3 days. Says the man who hasnt re-built the downstairs basement for 7 years. I predict we will have no back stairs for a long time, resulting in me having to build a hemp rope ladder.
I hate how my dad is all friendly now. I turn 19, and all of a sudden he likes me. Like the first 19 years of my life didnt matter because I wasnt legal to go to bars. Then all of a sudden when I'm 19, he gave me this "I want to be your friend, not your enemy" speech. It's like now he can say to his friends "LOOK! I reprodiced! My penis works!"
I dont get it.
The only things I've done in my life to make him proud, is do really good/make the premier team for soccer, graduate, turn 19. And one of those was inevitable. He didnt even know I was on the basketball team in middle school. He didnt know we won the league in hockey last year. But he sure as hell knows I'm 19.
His birthday is coming up. I dont even know when.
I realized I find it creepy when some girl talks to me, and she is 16 or younger.
It's like "Fuck, you were born in the nineties....THE NINETIES!"
I just find that odd.
I know it's only 3 years, but I have memories of things that happened, and they werent even alive yet. Thats what gets to me.
I havent been up to much the past little bit really. Just going out and hanging out with people and such, writing drunk songs, to make up for the lack of depression. It gets me by.
I've discovered my summer music for this year:
Jack Johnson
the new Vines album
Oh, and the JCB song by Nizlopi. It's a good'r.
Nothing else to babble on about. Peace out girlscouts. Drink your milk and eat your vitamins.
-You with your switchblade posse
I'll get my guns from the south
We'll take to the yard like a cockfight
Four kicks; Who's struttin' now?
I figure thats a good way to start off an entry.
So it's been hot.
So.
God.
Damn.
Motherfucking.
Hot.
I'm standing inside my air conditioned house (which is about 12) and wearing jeans, wrapped up in a blanket, in front of my sliding glass door upstairs, pointing and laughing at all the people at the park.
They hate me.
So the summer boredom of not writing as much for whatever reason is setting in, and I want to write, so I got a really random idea today for a short movie I want to start to...write.
The basis is either one of two things. A sequel to a movie I havent made yet, about a superhero who is really bland and mundane, and in the end just dies really pointlessly. Like chokes on a cracker, or cancer or something. But this way, if it's a sequel to something that never occurred, if I get bored, I can make the first one and fill in the gaps. But also have him die in the end of the first one. Just to fuck with people. Or maybe only make a sequel, and a prequil. No original.
The other idea is a mainly improv-based documentary style movie about the life of a retired superhero. Paying bills, doing laundry, asking random people on the street for autographs. Stuff like that. Then at the end, he saves someone from something (some sort of car crash, I dont know) and says "Yep, I think things are finally looking up." and it immediately cuts to a doctors office saying "You have cancer." and then the credits roll with cheery music.
I think the documentary style would be much better, cheaper, and easier to do. And would take less writing, and more spontanaity, which I like. I'd call it "Behind the mask" or something like that. Ripping off "Behind the glory" from VHI or whatever.
Anyways.
Tomorrow me and my dad are tearing down the back stairs, and building new ones. He says it will take 3 days. Says the man who hasnt re-built the downstairs basement for 7 years. I predict we will have no back stairs for a long time, resulting in me having to build a hemp rope ladder.
I hate how my dad is all friendly now. I turn 19, and all of a sudden he likes me. Like the first 19 years of my life didnt matter because I wasnt legal to go to bars. Then all of a sudden when I'm 19, he gave me this "I want to be your friend, not your enemy" speech. It's like now he can say to his friends "LOOK! I reprodiced! My penis works!"
I dont get it.
The only things I've done in my life to make him proud, is do really good/make the premier team for soccer, graduate, turn 19. And one of those was inevitable. He didnt even know I was on the basketball team in middle school. He didnt know we won the league in hockey last year. But he sure as hell knows I'm 19.
His birthday is coming up. I dont even know when.
I realized I find it creepy when some girl talks to me, and she is 16 or younger.
It's like "Fuck, you were born in the nineties....THE NINETIES!"
I just find that odd.
I know it's only 3 years, but I have memories of things that happened, and they werent even alive yet. Thats what gets to me.
I havent been up to much the past little bit really. Just going out and hanging out with people and such, writing drunk songs, to make up for the lack of depression. It gets me by.
I've discovered my summer music for this year:
Jack Johnson
the new Vines album
Oh, and the JCB song by Nizlopi. It's a good'r.
Nothing else to babble on about. Peace out girlscouts. Drink your milk and eat your vitamins.
-You with your switchblade posse
I'll get my guns from the south
We'll take to the yard like a cockfight
Four kicks; Who's struttin' now?