Hold Your Tongue, Boy.

You want to find out just how immature people can be?

Move away.

Then see just how damn long it takes for people to start talking shit.

Close Your Eyes. Pretend It's Where You Want To Be.

Sigh.

I am midway through the torturous process

of dyeing my hair blonde.

It's at that awkward stage,

where it's an ungodly shade of orange.

& I think the bleach is killing my brain cells.

I bleached it twice.

I'm going to do it one or two more times tomorrow.

then, if it's not blonde by then,

I'm shaving my head.

No One Would Riot For Less.

I had a dream last night.

:::DREAM:::

I was in this really wicked apartment in London. It had a grunge feel. Kind of a bohemian, nonchalant thing. I was sitting on the couch watching TV. Sannaka was sitting next to me. Maybe we weren't watching TV, because I remember there was music playing. It was "Banana Pancakes"., by Jack Johnson. Babs was in the kitchen, which wasn't really a separate room. She was making Banana pancakes. Then, we all sat outside on a balcony, overlooking London, eating our pancakes.

....Then I woke up.

Random Wanderings.

- I am undergoing an identity crisis. SO, I decided to dye my hair platinum blonde. I guarantee that it will make me look like some trashy relic from the Courtney Love kinderwhore era. But I couldn't care less. I have noone to impress here.

- Having no friends is not as bad as I thought it would be. Well it is. But I don't mind being alone as much as I thought I would. When you have noone to talk to, you end up talking to yourself alot & I am not an interesting person to talk to.

- I'm teaching myself to play guitar. It makes me happy. I can just sit & play for hours & not even realize. It distracts my mind from the afore-mentioned fact that I have no friends here.

Okay, I'm really not pathetic as I make myself sound.

It's a literary device.

Another Day Late & One Year Older.

 Birthdays Suck.

They are depressing reminders that we all

get old & die.

& Best of all,

I spent it without friends.

& I was able to ponder on my sorry

disposition.

I hate it in Maryland.

it's cold.

it's suburbia.

it's ugly.

it sucks.

I miss city life.

I miss the lights.

I miss walking downtown until 3am.

I miss smoking in the park & watching the passerby.

I miss riding the subway.

I miss....

Maybe it'd just be easier to say what I don't miss.

..................

See, that WAS easier.

Birthdays Suck.

End of discussion.

Tequila Body Shots vs. Reality TV

First off,

Don't. watch. Beowulf.

It has the worst first 10 minutes of all the movies I've seen in the last 5 years.

and that's alot.

I'm a filmophile.

AND since it's 3D Sims style,

you don't even get to see the real Angelina Jolie naked.

Just her Sim.

I really can't tell you any more about it,

because I left after the 3rd scene.

Today was semi-productive.

While 100 million teenagers

lying to their parentals and partying on to Tijuana

for SPRING BREAK!!! 

(I think you're legally obligated to always scream those words),

I sat around in my pjamas all day.

Here is what I achieved:

- Re-read Umbrella Academy comic book series.

- Draw various scenes from the above comic.

- Fall asleep laying on our dining room table, listening to Bright Eyes (the table was in the sun)

- Watch all of cycle 8(?) of America's Next Top Model (The Jaslene one)

- Get my driving privileges taken away by the parentals. Apparently, saying "F***ing B***h" is not appropriate.

....Yeah. That's pretty much it.

Pshh.... you can have your tequila body shots,

STDs & drunk frat boys.....

I'll take my comics, indie music & reality TV marathons any day.

The Technicolor Parade: Update

Our technicolor candy parade won 4th place.

Hell Yes.

We each grabbed a prize.

Even though I think we were only supposed to get one

per team.

Prize= 20$ at Bean Hollow (raddest coffe shop in this shittown)

Then we just left.

We left our parade there.

The rabid little kids

with plastic forks

can ravage it all they want.

I choose not to partake 

in that germ orgy.

----25 notecards left to do for tomorrow-----

I'm off.

The Technicolor Parade

Edible Art Show on Wednesday.

Allow me to explain.

Actually, scratch that.

It's pretty damn self-explanitory.

We made a parade today.

The sidewalks are grahm crackers.

The spectators are gummi bears.

The floats are cakes.

There's also a gummi bear marching band.

They have hats.

It's rad.

You should really see it.

Live.

Underculture.

Underculture is not actually a word.

Look it up.

Type it into google.

All you get is 100 million myspace pages

for some band named 

UnderCULTure.

apparently they sound like the Sex Pistols.

I'll take their word for it.

Back to my main point.

It SHOULD be a word.

I can't think of any word more appropriate

to decribe a whole array

of gritty, dirty

mementos of a desolate

and morally decadent society.

Can you?

Threesome With Kerouac and Salinger?

On the Road & The Catcher in the Rye. 

Self-discovery.

Drugs.

Sex.

Rock n' Roll.

And let's face it...

They both taken their place

as the books that hipsters and pseudo-intellectuals 

carry around when they want to look BA. (badass)

Think my Ap English teacher would go for that explanation?

---------------------------------------------------------------

I wonder what a threesome with Salinger & Kerouac would be (have been) like?

We'd probably get wasted, 

and smoke cigarettes

while we talked about how jaded we are

with modern existence.