| Dreamer easy in the chair that... really doesn't fit you. |
[14 May 2004|03:23pm] |
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mood |
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splendid |
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music |
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Yours is no disgrace-Yes |
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I've been neglecting this thing lately, but I've had nothing to say.
Yeah, dude. Last night was my first concert experience. Brandon and I saw Yes at Madison Square Garden. Aside from having the worst possible seats, and this highly intoxicated burly man stumbling all over the place, it was a great show. Yes is an awesome band.
Battleships confide in me and tell me where you are!
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[06 May 2004|04:11pm] |
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Inside out, outside in. Every way.
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[22 Apr 2004|03:08pm] |
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mood |
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not verbose, that's for sure. |
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music |
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Carousel-Mr. Bungle |
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Ain't got nothin' to say no more.
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| everyone's a dude. |
[11 Apr 2004|02:14pm] |
Enigmatic, an entrancing word in itself. Could I possibly fit under those terms? I'm often led to believe so. Cryptic, hard to read, mysterious.. all things I have been called. Appealing to some, but it comes to a point where I just get fucking sick of not being able to be myself around others. My own actions, or lack there of, just cause frustration for myself and whomever else I am interacting with(or trying to). On top of that, I have that whole indecisive issue. All of these aspects of my personality hinder any chance of expressing my self. I can't speak for myself or make my own decisions. I come off as lazy and uninterested, and for the most part I am, but I think it's because of the self-doubt I posses. I am totally unsure of my actions, and would rather have someone else do everything for me. (patiently waiting for the age of automatons). Plus, I am nervous about everything. I don't know how to handle social interactions, which is the main reason I don't want a job. I am constantly stricken with a nervous tension. It builds up inside of me even at the thought of any sort of confrontation. How will this play out in my future? Is it just a phase? Something that comes along with those already awkward teenage years? Or is this how I will always act and feel. I sense that it will really affect my relationships with people. Not necessarily boyfriends, and such. (Although I know from experience that it has messed things up). Just people in general. Will I still talk to the same people I do now, or will I 'forget' to keep in touch. I feel that I come off as too distant. Mainly because I am turned off by clingy, suffocating people. Rather than expressing how I feel, I remove myself from the situation all together. I need a lot of space. But guys like that, don't they? Ha..hmmjmhsgi73
Obviously there's a reason why I'm spewing forth all this nonsense. But I'm not going to tell you because that would make everything I just said about myself false.
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[31 Mar 2004|05:44pm] |
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music |
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Golden Brown-The Stranglers |
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Many people in my school are artificially colored. Their skin closely resembles that of an Oompa Loompa's . Soon enough, they will outnumber the percent of the population with normal skin color (and by normal skin color, I mean anyone with skin that hasn't been incubated in a chamber adorned with ultraviolet lights), forming their own race.
Choosing to listen to this song was in no way related to the aforementioned topic.
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[30 Mar 2004|09:17pm] |
bum ln a box: Tip: Save time by hitting the return key instead of clicking on "search"
Spunky Schnauz: umm I see
bum ln a box: listen Google, why don't you shut the fuck up? I can click on whatever I want!
Spunky Schnauz: hahah....fucking pretentious Google.....mind your fucking business...did I ask for your opinion?
bum ln a box: whoa, I right clicked to copy and paste something from this sight, and something popped up that said "Sorry, you do not have the permission to right click"
bum ln a box: What the fuck is up with these combatant internet sites?
For real, folks. The website had horrible grammar anyway. Were they afraid I was going to try and plagiarize??
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[28 Mar 2004|09:28pm] |
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GINKGO BILOBA!
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[25 Mar 2004|09:57pm] |
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mood |
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 bored |
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I've looked under chairs
I've looked under tables
I've tried to find the key
To fifty million fables
They call me The Seeker
I've been searching low and high
I won't get to get what I'm after
Till the day I die
I asked Bobby Dylan
I asked The Beatles
I asked Timothy Leary
But he couldn't help me either
They call me The Seeker
I've been searching low and high
I won't get to get what I'm after
Till the day I die
People tend to hate me
'Cause I never smile
As I ransack their homes
They want to shake my hand
Focusing on nowhere
Investigating miles
I'm a seeker
I'm a really desperate man
I won't get to get what I'm after
Till the day I die
I learned how to raise my voice in anger
Yeah, but look at my face, ain't this a smile?
I'm happy when life's good
And when it's bad I cry
I've got values but I don't know how or why
I'm looking for me
You're looking for you
We're looking at eachother
And we don't know what to do
They call me The Seeker
I've been searching low and high
I won't get to get what I'm after
Till the day I die
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[24 Mar 2004|03:44pm] |
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I greet the day, leaping over gaps of time and strolling passed primitive boundaries. I come to an edge; a pen in one hand, a sword in the other, and I contemplate which piece of weaponry to use for the day. With the stroke of a pen, my words can cut open a wound of imagery. Ink pours out of the wound, and is staunched with papyrus, staining the paper with words. When fallacy is found, it strikes the pen out of my hand and I am forced to use the sword. The dull blade renders useless. It does not strike with the same force as the pen because it cannot articulate it's motives.
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[22 Mar 2004|05:23pm] |
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Fuck you.
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| Not intended for individual resale. |
[19 Mar 2004|05:11pm] |
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mood |
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 content |
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music |
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Goodbye Sober Day-Mr. Bungle |
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XY chromosome holders, XX chromosome holders and hermaphrodites alike-
Congealed bowels haunt the heroin-addicted fundamentalists in dictated slums who spew banter from their slavering orifices and carry their babies in burlap sacks.
He's a Sputnik Spartan wearing a mink coat of arms. Stand ho! Proclaim your fickle fodder in the whimsical warble of Winter. Ah yes, alliteration.
I'll be your doppelganger and churn your butter while you sleep. Set your array on my lard-drenched glockenspiel while I harangue at your orangutang.
Bill regarded his leatherbound edition of FUCK DANE 2004 as his most prized possession. He turned each page in awe with wide eyes as fallacious fellatio was being performed on him; his ejaculation remniscent of astral projections. Did he have passion? He drowned in processed cheese, struck in the head by a meat by-product.
Only a true friend would utter the words "You bottle of douche remnants encased by a cow's rectum."
Or how about "You decaying lobster defecation puree, garnished with rabbit entrails."
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| ramble, ramble.. |
[18 Mar 2004|04:31pm] |
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mood |
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bah |
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music |
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The Dance of Maya-Mahavishnu Orchestra |
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So it seems the thing to do these days is quote lines from Chappelle's Show. I should keep count of how many times in one day I hear "I'm Rick James, bitch!" or "OOKKAAAYYYYY!! YEAHHHHHHHH!" (Lil' Jon)
Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy the show, it just gets old.
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| The world must end eventually. |
[06 Mar 2004|10:52pm] |
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mood |
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I've got the bends |
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The sooner, the better.
I sit in my leather chair, in which I have once flown, basking in the solitude of my pleasure dome. Rushing sounds are shooting out of the speakers. The aromatic smoke of the Indian incense does a dance of sin around me. My position during the night has prompted a sting of pain in my neck when turning to the left. I contemplate and ponder every fact and thought I possess. Is that possible? Oh yes, for I know so little. An interruption. I save every bitter and sarcastic comment I own for my mother. And a roll of the eyes follows. This matted, un-brushed mass is perpetually placed atop my head. So what? Friendships do cease, however. All too often, it seems. The availabilty of others is scarce. A face rapidly becomes unrecognizable and memories are obsolete. Oh, you fickle people.
I myself am stuck in a haze of indolence. I need a job. Time for some green tea...
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| masquerade. |
[05 Mar 2004|07:11pm] |
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mood |
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vitreous |
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music |
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Army's on Ecstacy-Oysterhead |
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A trivial pursuit to inscribe jealousy, paranoia, curiousity in the whirling winds of change.. of thought. Obscuring my adulation to to hinder preexisting pretentiousness and masking any lustful notions. Obvious or oblivious? The jazz lady is singing "I know it, I see it, it's loooovvveee." Eros [Cupid] wears a blindfold for l-o-v-e is blind, my friend. Profess thy incantations at dawn and I shall surrender to thee by night.
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| I am a loaf of bread. |
[29 Feb 2004|10:24pm] |
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mood |
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just kill me |
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music |
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please |
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Lazy, apathetic, indifferent, lethargic, dilatory, shiftless, unmotivated, lackadaisical, procrastinatory.
I'm trying hard not to look at the minimized bar that reads "Biography Resource Center..."
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| Come mister tallyman, tally me banana. |
[23 Feb 2004|03:38pm] |
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music |
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Southbound Pachyderm-Primus |
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Jubilant sharecroppers are planting bundles of joy in the crevices of my teeth, inducing a spat of epilepsy. Flatulent petunias are riding my train of thought to the Pantheon that is my brain. They speak in a grandiloquent manner, expressing their magical mantras to inebriated geese. "Savour the sweet taste of insanity."
I've got a yen for yams. Get me one pronto Tonto!
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[22 Feb 2004|07:06pm] |
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mood |
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blank |
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music |
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Madrigal-Rush |
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The ability to assert one's thoughts and feelings and to construe another's are qualities not to be taken for granted.
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