to be Townes van Zandt is to have woman ( Read more... )

almost every problem in my life can be solved by simply living, in the breadth and depth of the sense. and yet...

i am tired: as always. I should work, as always. I have so much to do: rarer than you would think. but i am not doing a thing: (constant.) i feel like i need more sleep than i used to. and really, i don't think i'll do this paper, really. i feel excused and entitled, and not at all 21. or responsible. or responsive, or anything. but i know i own a ( Read more... )

i fail at religion. and english. and i've lost all interest in psych. i am majorless. and stuffed to the gills with sinus pressure. and stuffed to the gills with things to do, and books to read, and books to read, and the lack of literary acuity. does is say anything, that people assume i will read more than i do? that it is assumed that i would ( Read more... )

my ears are popping, and my head is obviously incapable of thought. this is too easy to fret: i should, i should, i should, i shall, i shan't, i can't, i can't. all i've wanted recently is sleep, anyway. what use is learning, really, if you're dead?

wtf, write, you, right_____________>>>>>>>.........>>>>>>>>"?"

my head is cloudy, and there is so much to learn. so many germs. so little to say, really, which doesn't say much for me. windsor for the derby. so much music to listen to. and still, so little time. so many pages to write, a novel, really. look for me there: in pages, sans paper.

i am stress. i am french.

Head, Herald-Dear, Luther ( Read more... )

la merde.