"Stop saying you're too sad or you're too crazy. There's nothing worse than being lazy."
Yoda's living room is at least seventy degrees right now. There's a fan the size of a toaster pointing us me, Sam, and Mike, but it's only blowing warm air at us. They're playing GTA, as usual, and Yoda, Swan, and Kayla are asleep in the other room, which is air-conditioned. So unfair. I'm so fucking bored right now.
A lieutenant called Yoda's phone for me on Friday about my messages. I gave Tara's number in the message, too, but I guess he was probably glad I wasn't available at the first number he tried and didn't bother trying it in hopes of further avoiding any work of any kind. So I went the entire weekend knowing nothing was being done about these pieces of shit who jumped me. I was told he'd call me back on Monday (tomorrow) between certain times. I was never told what times. So just to be safe, I got dropped off here tonight, only to find out through Kayla that this asshole isn't going to call until between 6:30 and 7 tomorrow night. I'm totally baffled about how the system of detective work goes, I guess. They don't have hours, they don't call you back, they don't have to work on weekends... and yet they're also the only means of having any action done on legitimate criminals. I guess there really is no higher priority than graffiti in this city anymore.
I guess I'm healing up pretty well. All my scrapes and tears are really itchy, which usually indicates that they're healing. I wonder how many scars will be left over. I'm so tempted to start picking at everything, but I probably shouldn't. I wonder if there's going to be dirt permanently lodged underneath the scar tissue on my head, since the nurse at the hospital put forth about 10% effort into cleaning my wounds that night. No one seemed to give a fuck about me except my brother and dad, ironically the only people not paid to feign interest in my well-being. Fuck the cops of Schenectady, fuck the doctors, fuck the detectives, and fuck the 'hood gangstas who aren't doing anything whatsoever to better their situation.
Sam asked, "Is the word 'ciao' Chinese or Italian? It's Chinese, right?" and Mike totally flipped out on him. He was so outraged at the question. It was hilarious to watch.
Today, Tara and I went to the movies (again) and saw Away We Go, this year's indie flick that will for some reason be broadcast throughout commercial theaters (probably because of the guy from The Office starring in it). We had invited Yoda and Kayla to join us as a double-date, but Yoda turned it down, saying the movie looked boring. I guess lacking explosions and robots is a definite script flaw. It was really fucking cute and really fucking hilarious. I really fucking enjoyed it. And I can only express it through repeating the word 'fucking'.
Tara and I got into an argument because I get pissed off whenever she submits to her mother's control-freak ways. I wish I were better at turning my cheek to things that don't actually effect me, but it's hard, because when I care about someone, I care about them hard. So seeing them bow down to adults who hold buying them things over their head and use it as a badge to treat them as property that they own makes me yell a lot. Because saying 'no' isn't that hard and should be practiced way more often than it is.
I watched a really good movie last night called Look, which was entirely filmed through the eyes of various forms of digital security cameras. It was really realistic despite the low budget and ultimately showcased two harsh realities: 1.) you don't know anyone, and 2.) there isn't always a happy or predictable ending. The night before, I watched an Italian art film from the mid-'70s called Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom. It was suggested by pretty much everyone on the IMDB forum for Irreversible, so I had to give it a try. It was pretty disgusting, but I wouldn't call it disturbing. It's set during the Nazi occupation of Italy and a castle full of fascists who kidnap eighteen kids, half male and half female, and basically force them to endure day after day of mental, physical, and sexual torment, through sodomy, rape, BDSM, and even in one scene where they're forced to eat their own shit. It was pretty crazy, but I couldn't help but be bored a little and slightly annoyed at how so many people labeled this art when it's so obviously a blatant attempt to shock, rather than provoke thought. It's not even historically accurate, which cancels out any justification it had at one point. I dunno. I'm suck a geek, after every movie, I have to go to the IMDB forums and browse the Netflix comments, to see what other people thought of the film, just to add perspective.
I put my kitchen table, bookshelf, entertainment center, and dresser on Craigslist. Last night, an old Middle Class couple came all the way from Corinth to buy the table, then turned me down because two of the chairs had some mild scrapes on them. It was ridiculous. I don't want belongings anymore. They hold me back from relocating like weights tied to my ankle, since they're such a huge variable when it comes to moving from here. Not only that, but I want less and less things, because it's less things to worry about losing, having stolen, breaking, or ever having to replace. I've got a slew of e-mails, but no one's followed through just yet.
I wish my friends wanted to do more things. An all-day hip-hop show's on the 3rd. Enter Shikari's on the 6th. I'm skipping Reel Big Fish and going hitchhiking on the 7th. Fuck it. It's time to stop talking and get out without worrying about having someone go with me. I spend enough time alone to be able to do it elsewhere. I hate being somewhere where I actually have to be afraid of my neighbors and every silhouette that approaches me from a block away.
Smoking is one of the most vile, pointless, self-degrading habits known to man. I can't get over how so many people, vegans and environmentalists included, partake in it.
I realized the other day that I am so happy that I'm not in love. I feel so bad for everyone else who thinks they are. I wholeheartedly believe that no matter who you are, two people were not meant to be together forever. All girls cry about everything and all guys scream about everything.
Come to this, maybe?
A lieutenant called Yoda's phone for me on Friday about my messages. I gave Tara's number in the message, too, but I guess he was probably glad I wasn't available at the first number he tried and didn't bother trying it in hopes of further avoiding any work of any kind. So I went the entire weekend knowing nothing was being done about these pieces of shit who jumped me. I was told he'd call me back on Monday (tomorrow) between certain times. I was never told what times. So just to be safe, I got dropped off here tonight, only to find out through Kayla that this asshole isn't going to call until between 6:30 and 7 tomorrow night. I'm totally baffled about how the system of detective work goes, I guess. They don't have hours, they don't call you back, they don't have to work on weekends... and yet they're also the only means of having any action done on legitimate criminals. I guess there really is no higher priority than graffiti in this city anymore.
I guess I'm healing up pretty well. All my scrapes and tears are really itchy, which usually indicates that they're healing. I wonder how many scars will be left over. I'm so tempted to start picking at everything, but I probably shouldn't. I wonder if there's going to be dirt permanently lodged underneath the scar tissue on my head, since the nurse at the hospital put forth about 10% effort into cleaning my wounds that night. No one seemed to give a fuck about me except my brother and dad, ironically the only people not paid to feign interest in my well-being. Fuck the cops of Schenectady, fuck the doctors, fuck the detectives, and fuck the 'hood gangstas who aren't doing anything whatsoever to better their situation.
Sam asked, "Is the word 'ciao' Chinese or Italian? It's Chinese, right?" and Mike totally flipped out on him. He was so outraged at the question. It was hilarious to watch.
Today, Tara and I went to the movies (again) and saw Away We Go, this year's indie flick that will for some reason be broadcast throughout commercial theaters (probably because of the guy from The Office starring in it). We had invited Yoda and Kayla to join us as a double-date, but Yoda turned it down, saying the movie looked boring. I guess lacking explosions and robots is a definite script flaw. It was really fucking cute and really fucking hilarious. I really fucking enjoyed it. And I can only express it through repeating the word 'fucking'.
Tara and I got into an argument because I get pissed off whenever she submits to her mother's control-freak ways. I wish I were better at turning my cheek to things that don't actually effect me, but it's hard, because when I care about someone, I care about them hard. So seeing them bow down to adults who hold buying them things over their head and use it as a badge to treat them as property that they own makes me yell a lot. Because saying 'no' isn't that hard and should be practiced way more often than it is.
I watched a really good movie last night called Look, which was entirely filmed through the eyes of various forms of digital security cameras. It was really realistic despite the low budget and ultimately showcased two harsh realities: 1.) you don't know anyone, and 2.) there isn't always a happy or predictable ending. The night before, I watched an Italian art film from the mid-'70s called Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom. It was suggested by pretty much everyone on the IMDB forum for Irreversible, so I had to give it a try. It was pretty disgusting, but I wouldn't call it disturbing. It's set during the Nazi occupation of Italy and a castle full of fascists who kidnap eighteen kids, half male and half female, and basically force them to endure day after day of mental, physical, and sexual torment, through sodomy, rape, BDSM, and even in one scene where they're forced to eat their own shit. It was pretty crazy, but I couldn't help but be bored a little and slightly annoyed at how so many people labeled this art when it's so obviously a blatant attempt to shock, rather than provoke thought. It's not even historically accurate, which cancels out any justification it had at one point. I dunno. I'm suck a geek, after every movie, I have to go to the IMDB forums and browse the Netflix comments, to see what other people thought of the film, just to add perspective.
I put my kitchen table, bookshelf, entertainment center, and dresser on Craigslist. Last night, an old Middle Class couple came all the way from Corinth to buy the table, then turned me down because two of the chairs had some mild scrapes on them. It was ridiculous. I don't want belongings anymore. They hold me back from relocating like weights tied to my ankle, since they're such a huge variable when it comes to moving from here. Not only that, but I want less and less things, because it's less things to worry about losing, having stolen, breaking, or ever having to replace. I've got a slew of e-mails, but no one's followed through just yet.
I wish my friends wanted to do more things. An all-day hip-hop show's on the 3rd. Enter Shikari's on the 6th. I'm skipping Reel Big Fish and going hitchhiking on the 7th. Fuck it. It's time to stop talking and get out without worrying about having someone go with me. I spend enough time alone to be able to do it elsewhere. I hate being somewhere where I actually have to be afraid of my neighbors and every silhouette that approaches me from a block away.
Smoking is one of the most vile, pointless, self-degrading habits known to man. I can't get over how so many people, vegans and environmentalists included, partake in it.
I realized the other day that I am so happy that I'm not in love. I feel so bad for everyone else who thinks they are. I wholeheartedly believe that no matter who you are, two people were not meant to be together forever. All girls cry about everything and all guys scream about everything.
Come to this, maybe?