Reasons To Say I Love You

Do I really need one?

Yay Insomnia!

How did you get into this band?
The Hush Sound: City Traffic Puzzle. I have absolutely no idea; I might've just heard about them and decided to check them out.

Favorite song by this band?
Evanescence: Bring Me To Life. Lithium or Call Me When You're Sober. Amy Lee's pretty awesome.

Do any of your friends like this band?
Desaparecidos: Happiest Place On Earth. Haha, I'd be rather surprised if I did.

Favorite album by this band?
HIM: Love You Like I Do. Probably Love Metal. It was the first I heard.

How many times have you seen the current band live?
Matchbook Romance: If All Else Fails. Never. I'm not sure why.

First song you ever heard by this band?
Pink Floyd: Vera. Nooooo idea. I was probably just born.

Have you ever seen this song live?
Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Dudley. Yes! They played it at BFD 2006.

What was the first song by this band that you loved?
Panic At The Disco: Time To Dance. I think it was this one, actually, or There's A Good Reason...

Favorite member of this band and why?
Goo Goo Dolls: Smash. John Reznik was my first celebrity crush, no lie.

Have you ever met a member of this band?
AFI: Girl's Not Grey. Nope.

Favorite lyric of the song playing?
The Beatles: Hello Goodbye. "You say why and I say I don't know!"

If you got to see this band live and pick 5 of the songs for the setlist, which 5 would you pick?
Queen: We Will Rock You. Oh Jesus. Dreamers Ball, Under Pressure, Bohemian Rapsody, Jealousy, Don't Stop Me Now. RIP Freddie.

What's one good memory you have involving the current band?
System Of A Down: Mr. Jack. Driving around with my brothers singing at the top of our lungs and generally having a good time.

Why do you like the band that is currently playing?
The Used: The Bird And The Worm. Bert McCrackHead takes risks with his vocals, and the writing is completely raw. And I might have had a crush on Quinn Allman for a few years.

Does this song remind you of anyone or anything? Why?
Alkaline Trio: This Could Be Love. This guy Mike in my Italian class last semester wants his first tattoo to be the mix tape off one of Alkline Trio's albums with the tape all strewn out all over the place. On his back.

Say something bad about the band playing right now. I dare you.
cKy: Dressed In Decay. Um... Bam Margera is a huge fanboy who exaggerates about the bands he loves?

How many plays does the current song have in your iTunes?
Scissors For Lefty: Wandering Arms. 10. I've definitely listened to it way more though.

What song would you like to hear this band cover?
The Killers: Mr. Brightside. Hmm, no idea. Some Queen perhaps?

What's the best part of the song playing right now?
Sons & Daughters: The Nest. Two words: Glasgow accents.

Do you have any inside jokes that involve this band?
...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead: Witch's Web. My brother thinks this is the most hardcore name ever, and the only good one that's a full sentence.

What is the song playing right now about?
The Eagles: Try And Love Again

What are your top three favorite songs by this band?
The White Stripes: Passive Manipulation. Seven Nation Army, Union Forever, Icky Thump

What's your favorite lyric of the song playing now?
Led Zeppelin: Immigrant Song. I can only ever remember the first line.

What was the first song by this band that you loved?
Nirvana: Heart-Shaped Box. This or Smells Like Teen Spirit, I think.

How many times have you seen this band live?
Iced Earth: Melancholy. Never, but it would be EPIC.

How long have you liked this band for?
All Time Low: Let It Roll. *facepalm* Um... About a year, I think?

How did you get into this band?
JET: Rip It Up. C'mon, have you heard Are You Gonna Be My Girl? It's impossible for me not to love it.

Have you met any members of this band?
Sondre Lerche: Happy Birthday Girl. No, but I want to.

How many plays does the current song have in your iTunes?
Explosions In The Sky: So Long, Lonesome. 5

What's your favorite lyric of the song playing now?
Fall Out Boy: Sugar, We're Going Down. Wait, this song has lyrics? In English? "I've been dying to tell you what you want to hear, 'cause that's just who I am this week."

Marry/fuck/kill the members of this band:
Every Avenue: Think of You Later. I think Justine would kill ME if I answered this question honestly so.... nope!

Like An Unauthorised Autobiography

Just because I'm bored as anything but I don't want to write the paper I have to do, I'm going to post 3 lists of things I want/ asked for for Christmas.

#1: What I asked my parents for
-a long list of CDs probably only half of which I'll get (my dad thinks CDs are impersonal; I think he's forgotten who I am)
-bath stuff that smells like Cherry Coke
-a couple of rubber bracelets (it's a trend I've sadly fallen victim to)
-two books of sheet music, both by the Dresden Dolls
-scarves
-hats
-"iTunes cards and other gift cards are also good if you don’t like anything else on the list. Also contributing to my concert-ticket-fund and my tattoo-fund would be fantastic" (not getting any of that either)

#2: What I would never ask for or get
-World Peace
-end to World Hunger
-that purple Japanese-made stratocaster in the music store by my house
-Zack Merrick (or any sexy talented guy, really)
-a few corsets and assorted other wardrobe necessaries

#3: What I want but didn't ask for
-combat boots (I found a decent pair at Hot Topic for cheap)
-a bass amp (found a good one at the music store also for cheap)
-Applecare for the lappy
-a winter coat


I think I'm going to watch a movie and hope this malaise wanders off.

Two Things: Rambling in Waiting for Class

Well, three really, but the first isn't all that interesting since it's just me making a statement on, Jesus I never blog this much.

Thing #1 (or 2): I hate the foam that comes with lattes. It has no taste or substance and simply prevents you from getting more coffee (or tea since I just had a chai). But what I hate about it is how it sticks to the top sides of the cup except for the place from which you're drinking. Most people drink from one place out of a cup, but I can't when there's a coat of foam.

Thing #2 (or 3): I was happy to discover-- so happy that I broke an unwritten law of social behaviour and smiled to myself-- that I'm not the only person who smiles or chuckles quietly to myself when I think of something funny. A pretty girl walked by a few minutes ago smiling to herself, and I couldn't help but smile too. Why don't people smile more? It makes them more attractive and look like they're actually enjoying living. Gods forbid you do that.

Thing #3 (or 4, or fuck I fail at accurately titling things): People are leering at me a lot today. The guy behind me in line for chai was looking at me while he was talking to the girl he was with; no eyes in the back of my head, he was kind of to the side in line. The creepy old guy who usually sits at the tables where I sit was doing his job and staring at girls. I know we're not jailbait but fuck off dude, you're gross. Guy with really curly hair was staring at me about the first ten minutes after I sat down here; then he left. Hooray. Another guy-- I've seen him around, though I dunno why I noticed him-- with dreads made eye contact as he walked by; I looked back down at the lappy and glanced back up; he was still looking at me.

The guy who looks like a combination of Bryan Garza and Clark Kent sitting across the aisle and to the left was studying me earlier. How do I know, you ask? Well, give me a break, he's cute and has nice shoes.

I don't really need or want the attention here, people. Of course, I am sitting here in the sun with an orange beanie and bright red hair. I think I look good, but I'm schizo, so whatever.

Fuck I think I'm getting a sunburn.

A New Little Feature

Guys Who Should Always Wear Eyeliner

1. Pete Wentz: I have nothing against Wentz, honestly; to be honest, I think people give him too much shit. Yeah, he's kind of a whore, but I think he's earned it a little. But seriously. Go look for pictures of him on his honeymoon. The kid needs makeup, even if it looks like he hasn't slept.

2. Ryan Ross: Hey, you remember all the way back in 2006 when Panic At The Disco had an exclamation point, actually came out to meet fans, and Ryan Ross hadn't yet lost the rose vest, the fauxhawk, the eyeliner (and pretty much all of his stage personality)? Yeah, neither does anyone else apparently.

3. Billie Joe Armstrong: See the cover of and article inside the January 2009 issue of AP Magazine. Enough said.

4. Davey Havok (contributed by Siobhan): Is he gay? Is he straight? Is he a woman? These are some of the many questions people ask about the California rocker. He's had long flowing black locks, a near buzz-cut with random long pieces, that weird flippy spike thing... All I know is that Davey can change his hair all he wants, but for the love of gods, man, don't change the eyeliner!

The Epic Battle to End the War

Twilight: A Review, or Can I Please Smack Stephanie Meyer?

So this afternoon I took my half-sister to see Twilight as a Christmas present-- it made more sense when the movie was coming out in December, trust me-- and I went into it trying to keep an open mind. Yes, it's Twilight and yes, I've refused to read the book on principles of being a huge nerd when it comes to following the rules.

And great Odin were there things that went against those, the simplest most basic guidelines when it comes to vampires. Number one: vampires do not go out in sunlight. Technically they're not supposed to go out during the daytime, but I can buy a little evolution in the cosmology. They certainly don't fucking sparkle. They don't have "millions of diamonds encrusted in their skin." That's almost a direct quote.

Number two: if given the choice between biting a human and sucking the venom-- I guess I can live with venom turning humans to vampires too-- out of a wound, they're going to choose to bite them, no matter how much ~in love~ they are. During the scene where James, one of the evil vampires, bites Bella, whiny emo unrealistically popular MarySue, Edward-- the king of all masochist, self-hating, emo bitches (and this is of any species)-- opts to suck the venom out of her wrist and tries really really hard to stop himself from just sucking all her especially delicious blood. I hate to use the word "unrealistic" since we're talking about fictional creatures here, but it's entirely implausible. If Edward was really as big of a monster as he always says, he'd have turned Bella faster than fucking pancakes.

Number three: blood and lust. In the only genuinely sexual scene in the movie, Edward and Bella are making out in her bedroom (he's a stalking creep who breaks into girl's bedrooms; why am I supposed to swoon over this kid?) and just as things show a hint of beginning to get baudy, he shoves her away and then they keep talking. I actually had to ask my sister, "Is he just being emo, or did Meyer get something right?" Apparently Edward's just really really whiny and no, she didn't make the connection between sex and blood in the book. Maybe it was too risque for teenies. Or for her. Either way.

All of that is simply Twilight-vampire nonsense. The movie itself was pretty decent; not great, but I only paid matinee, which is about what it's worth. I generally like the bluish tint to more serious movies, but since we're talking about vampires, it seemed a bit overkill. The hair and makeup departments on this movie definitely should be shot; Alice, Esme, and the guy with the dreadlocks were the only good hairstyles in the movie. The makeup couldn't decide who was meant to be dead or not. I'm sorry, but nobody who lives in Arizona is dead white; it just doesn't happen. The vampires kind of fluxuated on whether they were normal-coloured or not, which bothered me a lot because Robert Pattinson (Edward) is actually attractive when he doesn't look like he's been covered in flour.

The movie did seem to flow well, though. No strange jumps that left you wondering, Wait what the fuck is happening? Of course it's meant for people with the mental capacity of a new puppy, so not much can be expected there.

Finally for my main argument against seeing this movie: the atrocious acting. Your main character should be able to act, in my humble opinion, and whoever looked at the girl who played Bella and decided that this was our leading lady should have their head checked. I have never seen anyone so bored and boring in my life. I thought several times, "THIS IS NOT HOW PEOPLE BEHAVE. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" But even putting Bella aside, not great. The most believable performances were by the vampires Carlisle, Esme, Jasper, and Alice (Rosalie almost got there, though they should have explained why she has such a stick up her butt) and Bella's group of human friends.

There is FAR too much "dramatic" staring in this movie. At least a quarter of the shots are of Edward or Bella or someone else staring at someone or something, and you just want them to get on with it. Do something, don't just sit there like a moron!

So that's about it. He should have bitten her, whole departments fail at their jobs, Stephanie Meyer needs to smacked over the head with her own ridiculousness, and I need to go write about vampires so I'm reminded that not everything in the world is shit.

Also I want someone to play a grand piano for me. That was one of the few things in that sorry little "romance" of which I approved.

Some things

It's odd that I'm posting for the second time is two days. I never do that.

But I've finally decided that I want to be when I "grow up." *drum roll* I want to be a cross between Amanda Palmer and Shawn Harris. If you've never heard of them, I'm not surprised. If you think I'm insane and need career help, I'm even less surprised.

Way to knee Bill in the nuts, Tony. Way to laugh at his misfortune, Jack.

Normally I wouldn't comment on things like this, because I could scarcely give less of a shit about most pop-culture, but I found out today that Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III and Ashlee Simpson named their son, born today, Bronx Mowgli Wentz. Seriously, guys? As if he isn't going to get enough shit for being famous people's kid, you named him after a section of New York City and the main character from the Jungle Book. Whatever, he'll be more rich than I probably ever will.

It scares me that there's a mini Pete Wentz out there. Next thing you know there will be little Alex Gaskarths. Then my world will explode.

I suck at waiting

Why is it not December yet? Seriously, I need some time off. Of course, by 13.00 tomorrow I'll be off for a week in honour, supposedly, of immigrants in the 17th century surviving a year or a winter or something by killing the natives who lived in this country after taking advantage of learning how to NOT DIE. This holiday is about America's obsession with food, let's face it, as well as Christmas Part 1.

I'm also still waiting on a call— any call— from one of the places I applied for a job. Maybe it's just that I applied to become a wage-slave for huge corporations (yeah, I'm ashamed of me too) but I would think that you'd want to hire and train new employees sometime before the week of Black Friday. But maybe that's just me.

This year isn't the first year that I haven't wanted anything but music, essentially, but it is the first year that my father said that not wanting big is a good thing. I hate that the economy sucks and that there have been a lot of expenses lately, but even more I hate hearing about it. As far as I know, I'm the only of his children to whom he talks— at length— about money issues. True, both of my brothers have moved out and my sister is the youngest, but I don't want to be stuck in the position of fucked-up middle child.

And just because I'm bored, I'll write out the things I really want for Christmas, but won't be putting on my list:
-World Peace
-end to World Hunger
-that purple Japanese-made stratocaster in the music store by my house
-Zack Merrick (or any sexy talented guy, really)
-money contributed to my concert-ticket fund
-money contributed to my tattoo fund
-more music (because I can't get enough and it's personal to me, dammit)

/emo. God, I'm a whiner.

It's days like this I hate everything.

Okay, put aside the fact that Obama got elected, because it is rather great. But what the fuck, California? Passing proposition 8? How is this any different from segregation? I agree with a good friend that the separation between marriage as a legally binding document and marriage as a religious institution is infinitesimal, if not nonexistent, in People's consideration of this decision. Nowadays it's more "oh noes! gay peoples! they want to do me and i'm not gay! don't give them any rights!"

Don't be so self-possessed. They don't want to do you. Don't want gay marriage? Don't get one. Idiot.

The only even vaguely humourous thing about it that I've found is this: http://www.bunny-comic.com/?id=1264 Because when you think about it, the rest of those aren't all that implausible for this country.

Also I'm sick, but that's less important than personal freedoms.

A Thought

Siobhan: [feels Brian's shirt] "Oh, it is velour. We were wondering what it was made of."
Brian: "Felt."
Pause
Siobhan: "Really?"
Brian: [grin] "Well, it is now."

"If you do something right, you should know it. If you do something wrong, you should be told about it." ~mio nonno

Wisdom from Neil Gaiman: "Writing... it's like the Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote. The roadrunner can run off a cliff and keep going because it doesn't look down. Wile E. Coyote can never do it because he stops and contemplates the impossibility of it. To succeed at writing you can never contemplate the impossible. Otherwise you'll need to find an invisible ladder to get you back to where you were when you fall."

~

When did I start hating almost everyone I know? Theories would be nice to hear.

What the f**k is wrong with the world?!

1. Bitches can't drive. Some old Asian lady yelled at me this morning for crossing the street and then walking back to my car earlier someone almost hit me. I'm six feet tall with blazing red hair wearing a red hoodie. I don't think the "I didn't see her" excuse will stand.

2. Motherfucker from the company who charged a hundred dollars on my debit card hung up on me when I called to complain about them charging me. Guilty. Sentence: me punching you in the face and you reimbursing me. Asshole.

3. "Oh you" was the response I got from the woman at the bank to check in on how the investigation people stealing my money went. Well fuck you very nicely too.

4. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26970782/ You are an adult. Either have a child of your own or don't. None of this creepy-as-fuck halfway bullshit.

5. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26182276/ ...Your dumb ass shouldn't be allowed to have children. End of story.

6. Real baby names, I shit you not: Lust Garten, Greed McGrew, Leper Priest, Gamble Moore, Teacher Blackbear, Moxie CrimeFighter (thank you, Penn Jillette), Shamrock Hardeman, Rainbow Green, Guinness Dack, Lunch Magee, Bread White, Mayo Head, Mike Rotch. That last one needs to watch less television. All of them suck and I pity those people.

7. I have a fucking Anthropology test tomorrow and I'm supposed to go study somewhere, location undisclosed even to me, with some people in my class. Now I'm too angry to speak, much less socialise.

I feel like killing something.

Rando-rant

Courtesy of Anthropology class and the chit in front of me.

Why the hell do some girls make like they're about to tie up their hair, whether in a ponytail or a bun, and then they just let their collection of hair go? What is the point besides annoying the people behind you? Unless I've got a hairtie and the notion to get my hair out of my face, I don't fuck with it. I usually don't fuck with my hair unless I've got a reason, like running/dancing/jumping around or pinning it up to look all fanciful. Unnecessary, that's all it is. A waste of time and energy.

Destroy yourself, or else have someone do it for you.

"My iPod has an All Time Low boner!"

"I have strokes of genius all the time."
[spazzes out] "Oh wait, that's a seizure of genius. Never mind."

"Pop Tarts are NOT lunch, god dammit!"

"Aww, come on, guys. Make fun of me. I'll be your lightning rod of hate!"

"You fuckers had all day to jack off in class. Now focus!" Thank you, Shawn. We love you too.

One of the interns in one of my classes pronounces irrational with an e. eRational. It drives me insane.

I've been rotting my brain out with movies and reading and writing. Maybe. Does it really count as brain-rotting if it's intellectually stimulating? Currently on is Fight Club. As I heard several times last night, a mental mindfuck can be nice.

Oh yes, that's right. I went to Rocky Horror for the first time last night. There were so many other virgins; apparently even more came after the initiation. I got a little bit of special treatment because the people I went with are semi-friends with the cast; a tasteful V on my cheek, the good kind of attention, minimal ribbing for being a Virgin. Fun as shit, and strangely freeing. We went out to breakfast with some of the cast afterwards, and that was awesome too. They're the exact breed of strange that I love.

I'm definitely losing my mind. Have I been Tyler longer and longer?

You've Got My Head Spinning, Heart Beating Out of My Chest

"I would rather my gods be fallible than phallic."

"Lockjaw means never having to say I'm sorry."

"You're always kind of figuratively talking about sex." College professors are so much more interesting than high school teachers.


Title: only not really. Mostly I just have a headache. I rather bad one, to be honest. Much like Mono, you shouldn't be allowed to wake up with headaches without getting to get blind drunk first. Or I could just be eradicated of these migraines. That works too.

Today was another day where I didn't want to get out of bed, and not the usual ugh-not-enough-sleep-gotta-go-to-class kind. The I-don't-want-to-get-up-ever kind. Convenient then that I picked up Amanda Palmer's new CD yesterday, and my brother described it as "really depressing." Odd. That wasn't even one of the worse songs. I will admit though that her solo album is less of the frantic delicious piano punk rock love that is usual of the Dresden Dolls. But hey, she's an individual and let no one say otherwise.

Ew. I just crushed a bug on my screen. That's really gross. Oh, lovely, and my head feels like it's going to explode because I coughed. Today's gonna be one of those days.

FTW

And "FTW", girls and boys, stands for Fuck The World. First this morning I get people shooting me dirty looks for wearing my awesome hat which they probably thought was stupid. Next I came back from Italian to move my car and there's a fucking parking ticket on my windshield. Fifty bucks. So long 4 shows I would've gone to. All because I have the common sense of chicken soup and can't fucking remember to check when street cleaning is. Then just when I'm starting to stop being pissed off, I almost pass out in Karate. I'm sort of used to my vision being weird and seeing auras occasionally, but I should have worried when my mental commentary of "Straighten your vision" became "Don't vomit, don't vomit," and right before my vision blackened that became "Don't pass out." I have this lovely fucking tendency to embarrass myself in front of large groups of people. Bad enough I look ridiculous because my gi doesn't fit and can't handle how fucking hot it is in the gym.

I'm worried to leave the house, lest something else happened to me today. I really want to go see the Matches tonight though. It's Dylan's first show and I want to be there to distract him. My half-sister has a volleyball game I'm supposed to pick her up from, though. I don't want to.

Someone knock me out and don't wake me til 21.

Trouble, betch.

So today is a week from the official first day of school for me, and after many mornings of the same, I find myself sitting outside the cafe with my laptop open. Don't I have anything better to do? Well, no. I don't have class for another half an hour.

But the terrible thing about sitting out in the nippy morning-- I'll be wishing it's this temperature when I'm walking to my later classes-- is that I have a terrible cold and sound completely ridiculous when I'm forced to talk. Gods know I don't want to, except if it's to imitate Jack Barakat, because that I will admit is hilarious.

My point, if I have one, is just to note some observations I made today. When I sat down at this table, there were two gentlemen... uh, guys... smoking at the table beside me. I don't mind smoking, but I do mind being stared at; it makes me nervous. I've seen far too many movies to not think being watched is a bad thing.

Actually I think I should shut the hell up writing right now, because I keep getting distracted by my own thoughts connected to the girls walking by and the conversation at the party I went to Monday. I really think too much. But at least I don't talk too much.

...I can totally see why guys enjoy watching girls walk by.

Making Plans To Break Plans

For the most part my approximation of my classes was pretty accurate. Italian is interesting, if a little difficult because I accidentally missed the first class-- I know, I'm a fucking genius. But my instructor seems cool and at least my pronunciation is decent.

The First-Year Experience class is dead boring; it's basically an attempt to make us better "successful" students through self-reflection, journaling, and a bunch of other crap I don't want to do. Plus it's on the fifth floor of the HH building: lamesauce.

Anthropology should be cool; the professor, who insisted that we all call him Mark because he doesn't want to be old, is funny and there isn't really homework besides reading and studying.

Mythology, by far, will be my most awesome class. The teacher is like Mrs. Denning-- only a tad less so-- and the course work is fantastic. I think I'm looking forward to Halloween, watching the movie of Dante's Inferno... WITH PUPPETS.

I want to see if I can transfer into a music or art class, hopefully on a TTH schedule, and drop the First-Year class. I want to actually take things I enjoy.

Forgo the metaphors: It's fucking college

I've never really understood all the metaphors and fanfair people use to talk about college; generally this is done in high school graduation speeches. You know, a new chapter of your life, your glimpse into the real world. But let's be honest, it's just more school. You know, that thing you've been doing for thirteen years of your life? Yeah, that's not going anywhere.

As one might have been able to determine, I'm at school, sitting outside the cafe in an uncomfortable metal chair and watching the people walk by as I type away at my computer. Avoiding looking at those two guys across the aisle who are, in fact, staring at me. Ooo, a tall thing in skinny jeans of my favourite colour green.

Getting off topic! Actually, did I even have a point? At least there's plenty to watch for the next half an hour before I have to begin searching for my first class. I'm not really worried; the humanities building isn't hard to navigate. It's the class after that I'm thinking about: anthropology in one of the two buildings where the first floor you land on upon entering isn't the first floor. I think in the one I'm going to it's the fourth, but I'll have to check.

All this blathering, aside from making for some pretty damn boring reading material, is stream of consciousness-- when I don't get distracted, like by that beautiful blonde girl who just walked by-- and really only suits to take my mind off what I realised on the long walk from the car: I'm terrified, and for no good reason too. All the people I know who are already in college have told me that there's nothing to worry about in "institutes of higher learning" that there aren't in high school. Well, probably with a few exceptions, but I'm trying to be positive.

Watching all these people come and go helps and doesn't, because on the one hand I get to partake in one of my favourite activities and imagine their life story, but I also get to thinking about other things, like the potential these people have to affect my life. Jeez, if his pants got any tighter they'd be leggings... Right. Anyway, I'm going to continue surfing the internet and probably post another entry after class, because gods know something will happen that's worth talking about.

Go on. Stangle that mime!

"Plus what would I say to him?"
"I don't know... 'hi, my name is C and you look like Sisky, so we should make out'?"

"Great idea, lady on my TV, you make out with that guy driving the car."
"...WHAT?"
"It's okay. They crashed."

If you ever want to watch a TERRIBLE movie, watch "Zombies Anonymous." I didn't ever get through ten minutes of it before it got turned off. It's awful. Terrible picture quality, worse acting, so much wasted potential. If you want to watch a better, though admittedly more confusing and slow, movie, watch "Melvin Goes To Dinner". Nothing seems to make sense until the very end, and then you've got so many more questions, you'll want to strangle a mime. Or maybe that's just the need of anger management.

So I'm not really sure what to make of life right now. School's starting up soon-- I've got class Tuesday at eleven just to ease into it-- and most of my friends are leaving or have already left, except those lucky bastards on the quarter system who start in a month. So far nothing I've attended has peaked anything resembling interest, except for stories from friends going to other colleges who've already started, so I'm hoping that college isn't going to be as dreadfully boring as it has seemed so far. I haven't met anyone and I don't want to just go to class and come home and hate my life; interesting human interaction needed from people other than musicians at shows!

Also I haven't really been writing recently, not for lack of trying, but every time I sit down I can't formulate an idea good enough to keep. My brother playing Bass Hunter while he plays Warcraft certainly doesn't help, which is what's on now. I like Bass Hunter, but it's not what I would choose for inspiration.

It's awful; even this can't hold my attention long enough to say something meaningful. Maybe I'm just nuts and want something I can't have.

Quis ipsos custodes custodiet?

We're setting fires beneath our lovers' beds
Just watching the world burn

The slaughterhouse choir chimes and screeches
To the tune of the three-penny orchestra
Their screams and wails haunt and tug heartstrings
Because we've heard it all before
They echo in our heads at night
Waiting for the sky to fall

Masquerading dancers in the violent cabaret
Parade with flaming banners through Central Park
Blazing through the night sky
Like our childhood hopes, dreams, and fantasies
The verse ascends, the bridge climbs high
Listening for the end of life's fermata

Dirty tricks in politics
Filthy war and starving eyes
Man-made plagues soaring through the atmosphere
Did we bring it on ourselves?
Could our scapegoats all be lies?
Watching the bombs fall on television screens

Costumed masked men knock nocturnes out of blood
As we play poker with Tarot cards
New hand dealt, full house, four dead
The end of the world comes with a royal flush
Outside our windows bright spandex and silk capes fly
Beating our end-world plots senseless

We seek escape in white noise and olive skies
Biting through lips, gripping at skin and satin sheets
In the darkness of the twisted burlesque show
We are true. No lies to tell the world
We are sick and twisted and deranged
We're just watching the world burn

Or if you want to find somebody else that's better, go ahead

Something that, strangely now that I think about it, has never happened to me today, and twice no less. Today on completely separate occasions two men have cursed and then pardoned themselves because "there's a lady around." Now, I don't really mind swearing-- I'm quite prone to it depending on the situation and the company-- but I just found it funny, and now I find it sort of sad that you never see the same thing anymore with young people. Yes, I sound old, but I'm allowed to point out the discrepancies between my generation and those older, aren't I? That's what my cynical generation is all about: pointing out bullshit.

But getting back to the point, you never see-- or rather, hear-- that with anyone of the young generation. We swear liberally and quite casually, and we'll be fucked if we give a shit who hears it. I'd just once like to meet a guy under 25 who'd do the same as I heard today.

(And that usage of cursing was to make a point, in case you aren't too quick off the draw.)


"Shit I need a boyfriend."
"Shit... me too."
"Fuck, let's go get some!"
"Just go pick some up at the grocery store. What aisle do they keep them in again?"
"Uh, I believe it was 5b. Next to the ice cream. Gotta buy 'em hard."
"...That is both hilarious and disgusting."
"That is the point."
"That's what boys are."

"So blatantly obvious songs about sexing up someone make me laugh and think, 'Oh you. You're not getting laid!'"

"If a guy had a rack like mine, I'd say that fucker needs surgery and or hormone therapy."

"When I'm rich and famous I'm going to open a club in the city called Club Epic and we'll play Cobra Starship to dance to."
"Awesome! Will you host live bands?"
"Do you know me at all?"
"Sweet. 'Club Epic presents My Vagina Spaceship featuring I Look Good In Eyeliner.'"

"Do... do you have a vagina?"

"Someone needs strippers!"

Some old insanity

"Siobhan's not happy unless there's something with tight pants."
"Or naked."
"Or naked. Which means it was in tight pants at some point."
"Wouldn't they be hard to get off?"
"You cut them off."
"Kinky."
"With a machete."
"Wouldn't that be dangerous?"
"That's the point."

"What's the point of dating? I mean, really!"

"Ha! I just took a picture of that chick and you'll never know!"

"Did you see how that soccer player was checking you out, Andrew?"
"Yeah, it's 'cause I'm hung like an elephant."
"Wait. I don't get it."
"Let's just say I use Magnums."
"The gun?"

"I don't get the elephant part though. Is it because they're big?"

Two things to always remember: go left and look up, because nobody ever does.

Kick up the stereo, kids

I don't know if I've ever mentioned it, but I'm very annoyed by movie kisses. The vast majority of them are wholly unbelievable; too much dramatics, or maybe the attention to detail and motion is the fault of the cinematographer. Most of the time you think, people don't kiss like that, and if they do, it's certainly not in public like it always is in the movies; it's in the privacy of their own homes, or hotel rooms, or otherwise away from prying eyes. That never happens.

Well, in walking around Dublin, I discovered that they do, in fact, happen. People do actually do far more than peck each other on the lips in public. The most obvious examples I saw were the couple making out in the back of a taxi-- something I imagine must have created some awkwardness had the driver been forced to interrupt them upon arrival-- and the couple falling all over each other-- into a wall.

But I am right. Things like that are completely different from how they're portrayed in the movies. Only, I've learned... sometimes they're not.

~

Home. As Zach Braff said in “Garden State”, maybe all it is the same imaginary place people miss, and maybe all family is, is a group who miss that place.

So I’m on the plane headed back to SFO, and I have no idea where we are specifically. Judging that it’s about three and a half hours before we land, I’d say we’re somewhere in Canada. Hi, Canadians! My head hurts like you wouldn’t believe—I think it’s due to sinuses as those are being fucked up as well—and I seriously need to stretch my legs. Airplane seats are TINY.

I’m currently listening to Green Day’s “Homecoming” off American Idiot, and it’s hard to believe that this album came out four years ago. My freshman year. So much has changed since then, and yet it feels like nothing has. But nothing can make me enjoy this song less. This is my early adolescence here. My life.

And that’s what everything I’ve taken from this trip is as well. Not to be all melodramatic and say “oh ye gods my life is changed forever after two weeks” because it isn’t. I’m still me, only with a lot of swag and memories and photos. But at this moment I’m smiling because I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Even if I didn’t enjoy every minute and sometimes I just wanted to curl up and sleep the day away, it’s still mine.

And nothing’s gonna change that.

Post #100

Translation: C has nooooo life. But hey, that must not be true, because she's in effing Ireland. Also, I discovered where all the hordes of really cute guys are! ...Besides Dublin. Apparently all of them hang out/ work at this supermarket called "Superquinn" in Brae in county duhrbubrfubr*coughcough*.

Funny, I didn't know Quinn Allman was secretly an Irish superhero. Huh.

That's all. Coming home tomorrow.

I have played way too many video games for this not to be creepy as hell

That quote, said by yours truly, was in reaction to standing in the crypts beneath St. Michan's church in Dublin. I kept expecting bloody demon hand to snap out of the gated tombs and try to claw my brains out, Silent Hill-style. Don't tell the makers of that game; they might use the idea in yet another game.

I know there was some other strangely amusing thing I said today; I don't remember anymore. But wandering around Dublin was fun. It is quite trendy, as I have heard, and full of young people. Ah, now I remember. We were walking towards Grafton Street and a pack of teenagers-- the fun, smoking, wildly-haired and -tattooed kind-- and my dad says, "Mind the toughs."

Now, I know he's thirty years my senior, but I hope I remember what teeangers are like in thirty years. It was hard not to burst out laughing; these were the types I deal with-- and shove out of the way when needs be-- at shows all the time. "Toughs?" said I. "These are just kids."

And they are. Sure, noticeably more of them smoke than American kids, but really I was wholly comfortable with the crowds of people that inhabit Dublin today. Well, I mean, I hate people-- not persons or peoples, as we discussed today-- but I'm not afraid that boy with the spiky black-and-pink hair all dressed in black with the lip-, eyebrow-, and tongue-piercings and studded belt holding up waaaaay skinny jeans is going to start shit with me. I have that air of "I'll have nothing to do with you, so don't bother" about me often when I walk the sidewalks and department stores.

Which people actually take note of in European department stores! I wandered about Brown Thomas-- very chic, very swish, I am totally buy those 750 Euro Italian leather motorcycle boots when I become rich and famous-- and wasn't sprayed with perfume or asked if I could be helped or anything. And when I was finished, I walked straight out without bother from anyone.

I like that. I like Dublin. I like Ireland. But two weeks is a terrible long time. Perhaps we should've only stayed ten. I miss certain people I know, not to mention the ability to be alone. Need alone. Need space.

I am going to sleep so much on the plane until I can be back in my space.

F**k my life

Dramatist, I am with the title, but well-deserved I think. First off, Tralee is absolutely beautiful—probably my favourite place so far. Cynthia’s house is just up the hill from the beach, and since the gulf stream is coming up from the tropics, the water is so warm and delightful.

But sadly bright, sunny, and otherwise gorgeous days are not something I can appreciate when I have a headache the size of Mick Jagger’s lips—which just turned 65 I learned on the tellie. I woke up feeling sort of ill and could barely eat anything for breakfast (coffee is my new friend), and when we walked along the beach I felt iffy and after about a mile had to sit down.

However we have things planned for the day! Can’t spend our time lollygagging about the pretty house. Our first stop was at this home-made cheese shop up the road and up a very bumpy, windy hill, which is one of the mortal enemies of my stomach. But the owner was gone, so we made it down the hill and a little ways before I have that recognisable taste in my mouth. So I toss my hair up in a bun, tell my dad to pull over, and leap out onto the shoulder.

Let me say that vomiting up very strong coffee—or anything, really—into a bush is not fun at all. But oh, it gets worse.

I insist that I’m fine to continue on to Dingle—funny name for such a quaint little town—over Conor Pass—incredibly narrow, windy road up the mountain. We eat lunch at this little pub (I had maybe a quarter of that sorry excuse for a chicken sandwich) where I get sick again in the bathroom.

Okay, I’ve been sick before. Just drink some water and I’ll be fine.

Joanna and I went down a few doors to this awesome hat shop, where I get a necklace and a garnet ring. What? says you. Not buy a hat? You love hats! Well yes, says I, but not ones that cost nearly 300 Euro. Well, actually those are the only kind, apparently, that I do like.

We met up with my dad and treaded over towards this weaver’s shop Cynthia told us about. However sick little I can’t make it farther than a little health food shop/café in a side-alley with a woman out front giving Shiatsu massages. Well that sounds nice, so I ask for one.

And it was nice. Very nice. I’ve got a massive headache, shaky limbs, something like Arthritis in my left-side joints, and a lower back that feels like someone’s slowly dragging a wool-comber down it. Naturally it’s going to feel good.

Until the woman—there was some discretion as to whether she was French or Belgian; I think she was Eastern European—tells me to sit up and I start feeling nauseous again. Just after I ask where the closest bathroom is, my stomach clenches and I rush off the chair. I barely make it around the corner of this alley before *blugh*.

In front of this strange woman, in front of the shopgirl who’s come out to empty the trash, in the view of the patrons eating inside. Throwing up water, since that’s all I’ve got left. As if the side of the road wasn’t bad enough.

Of course, mortification doesn’t hit until we reach the main street and I think, “Oh ye gods, I’m going to be that American girl with the pretty hair and half-an-accent who got so relaxed she vomited.”

And my dad tells me that ten days is about the time my older brother took to get sick when they came to the country. This… does not help. He was ten. I am eighteen. He drank too much river water. I… did something to make myself violently ill.

As I have said before, whoever or whatever decided I should have my bodily processes should be nailed to a wall and have the inside of their eyelids tattooed.

Now it’s the next day, and I’m feeling better, but dreading being in the car for hours and hours and being around people for four more days, since that could be what made me sick in the first place. Cynthia and I talked about it. I’m a very private, solitary person, and I’ve had next to no alone time on this trip. I need alone time; ‘salso why I’ve been so mood. ‘Just leave me alone!’ I thought last night amid the delirium when everyone came back the first time.

My head still hurts, and all I really want is a shower.

Pity that all the pretty ones are usually more touristy

“I cry all the time because I’m not the Hulk.”

“So what you’re saying is that Jesus’ clothes were spun by Mothra?”

My brother is a strange, strange creature, but hey, at least he’s entertaining. Last night after driving around a scenic area for literally hours, the lot of us went into Galway city and met up with Conor, a friend whom I haven’t seen in quite some time, for dinner and for him to haul the boys off to his to traverse them to Dublin, where a plane will carry them to London, where yet another plane with take them to Iceland’s capital, which I know I can’t spell so I won’t even try. Reykjavik, says spellcheck. Oh well.

Today was more driving around and a lot more of something about which I had a mini-discussion with my father: tourism. I hate tourists. I hate being a tourist, I hate being around tourists, and I hate feeling surrounded by them. Or any people, really, but that’s another matter. What Dad and I discussed was how right now, there’s nothing I would like less than to spend my elderly years traipsing around in busses filled with other old people and being shepherded around to places ‘I’d always wished I’d gone when I was young and now I have time to visit!’

Stick a fork in my head and call me done. It’s probably something to do with being young and wanted to adventure and experience the world for myself. When I’m out on my own and I’m travelling the world—because let’s face it, I’ve got too much wanderlust to stay in the Bay Area for the rest of my life—I won’t habit the touristy places drowned with people, and if I must I’ll go when no one else is around. I’m more of a night owl anyway.

So right now I’m in the back seat of the car we rented, wishing that I had more legroom, typing away at a dying computer, listening to a dying iPod. I’m going to go stir-crazy if we don’t find an internet connection soon. But Limerick, which we passed through probably a half-hour ago, was surprisingly pretty for a city. And I mean the very urban part.

Now I’m told that we’re in Adare, which really doesn’t tell me much. The buildings are nice though, and I just spotted a sign pointing us in the direction of Tralee, and I do know where that is, so I don’t feel quite so lost.

I hate being lost, and there’s been a lot of it this trip, of more than one variety.

Like LARPing, only more musical

And more entertaining. Tonight we went to a castle for dinner, and of course the serving crew were all dressed in period costumes and sang and told stories. I’m getting really bad; the first thing I noticed is that the “butler” Stephen at the door was really cute, and later noted that he got more attractive as I discovered how well he could sing. Such is the way of the world. The other two actor/servants were very good singers as well, as was the harpist. An absolutely lovely evening, despite how damn hot it was in that room. Castles should be cold and drafty.

More comments on my hair. More packs of bored-looking teenagers walking through towns. The more things change, the most they stay the same. It really isn’t helping me grasp the concept of being half a world away that I keep seeing things that occur at home. People dress the same, stores sell generally the same things. Hell, at dinner the two—TWO!—other groups beside us were from the Bay Area.

And, my most noble lords and ladies-- always how Stephen the Butler drew our attention-- I could totally do that as a job.

…It’s a rock

Not just a rock. A lot of rocks. Literal tons of rocks. Wednesday we set out from Sword—yes, the town was called Sword—for Newgrange in county Meath. The structure of Newgrange itself was pretty cool, especially when they did a demonstration of the sun shining in at Winter Solstice. I took a lot of cool pictures, as per normal. I’m really a photography whore.

After that we went to Slane Monastery made of—shock—stone. I’m a fan of ruins, personally. You just don’t get them in America. We were actually looking for Slane Castle, which we eventually found after missing the exit three times. Technically we weren’t allowed to take pictures inside, like in Malahide Castle Tuesday, but I snapped a few shots after the curator had moved onto the next room.

According to one of the men in the group with us—a lot of elderly people from somewhere across the island—Cian would’ve been great in “Braveheart”, Rudraigh would make a good warrior king, and I would be the perfect Celtic princess. News to nobody.

I keep staring out the window as we drive, trying to grasp the whole concept of being an entire ocean away from California, but it won’t sink in. So far Ireland’s a lot like home: weather’s the same, greenery’s the same, people are the same pretty much everywhere. Two main differences I’ve noticed are that people seem genuinely interested in where you’re from and there aren’t any German tourists back home. Yes, I thought about all the British comedy jokes about German tourists when I heard them.

One thing I’ve noticed that’s the same is the proximity of redheads. This is not, as many Americans believe, a country full of ginger people who can’t go out in the sun longer than five minutes before turning into a lobster. People still stare at me like I’m dancing around dressed like the Chiquita banana lady; only here they maintain eye contact when I stare back.

Either people around the world are this fascinated by redheads, or I’m one hot sucker. I’m banking on the former.

Next, more monasteries and castles. The lady at Mellifont Abbey was really cool; she was a redhead too. We also when to Trim Castle, but just wandered around the grounds since the tour wasn’t for another forty-five minutes. That’s alright; they probably wouldn’t have let me take pictures anyway.

But yes, lots of driving, constancy of getting lost and having to turn around on the tiny Irish dirt roads, and the dwindling apparently lack of my father’s depth perception. We lost both hubcaps on the left side yesterday and I refuse to sit over there now.

Traveller’s Woes

I must admit that I hadn’t really begun to think about the trip I’m currently on until I had to start packing—which was two days ago, mind. I don’t think it’s really sunk in that I’m on my way to another country thousands of miles away from everything I’ve come to know. I have no expectations of Ireland, which may be for the best since I won’t be disappointed.

The thing that must be understood about me as a traveller though—and I cannot really use the word to describe myself as often as I’d like—is that despite my vocalised dislike of people, I have an inexplicable love of airports. Maybe it’s the sense of change and progress; people are always moving forwards, even if they’re going backwards. Sure, the food is generally awful, but you can bring your own iffin you like. I don’t even mind all the security and precautions and warnings of “threat-level, orange”. Except for feeling like a spy having gotten caught by the enemy, having to take off my leather jacket, my belt, my shoes, remove all my jewellery and everything from my pockets, show that my laptop is, in fact, a laptop and is not, in fact, a bomb.

Oh shite, I said bomb. I’m probably about to be tackled by flight attendant and passenger alike for being a terrorist.

What I do not like about travelling is what I’m currently doing: being cramped into an airplane seat for ten hours and having my legs cramp and fall asleep. True, I’ve slept through almost a civil majority of the trip—three-fifths—but the time I have been awake has been nothing but dull and achy. And the only way to remedy the latter is taking a walk to the toilet—which is just as cramped, if not moreso, than this seat. At least I’ve got the window.

The strangest thing so far has been the fact that it hasn’t gotten dark. According to the clock on the screen, it is 11:32, but that’s in California, and I am currently flying over the Atlantic. I’m not exactly sure where over the Atlantic, since there’s nothing but clouds and water below us, but I was delighted to wake up in time to watch us fly over the Arctic.

The voice over the speaker system—the first one I’ve been able to understand—just announced that we’re descending (as if we couldn’t tell) and will be landing in Dublin in about a half-hour, just after 8 a.m. local time. Mind-blowing, really. I’ve completely missed Monday.

And that stewardess who told me she liked my art did not have that accent when we took off. Oh well, chances are I’ll have slipped into it by the end of the day.

Another Reason (or Five) We're All Screwed

Yes I, due to watching too many movies and playing too many video games, and much like my older brother, fear being torn to shred screaming in agony by zombies. This might strike some as a cause to throw me in the loony bin, but thanks to the jerk's searching around the web, there's now legitimate cause for concern, as seen in the link below. Thought I'd spread the knowledge.

Dammit, man, don't tell me these things!

http://www.cracked.com/article_15643_5-scientific-reasons-zombie-apocalypse-could-actually-happen.html

Admiration is an amazing thing

http://www.out.com/detail.asp?page=1&id=23972

Read this. For those of you who aren't familiar, Gabe Saporta is the singer of Cobra Starship, and at this moment, I have nothing but the utmost respect for him. Maybe it's just all the thinking about this subject I've been doing recently, but this really speaks to me.

This is life right here. This is what I want to do, how I want to be. This is the world to me.

Sure we'll die young. All the greats do.

"Chivalry isn't dead. It's chained up in Oprah's basement; she beats it daily."

"Um, I think condoms actually stop evolution."

"That guy is so annoyingly ugly. And just annoying."

"Rhinos don't make that sound."
"That's the sound rhinos make when they bounce. Have you ever heard a rhino bounce?"

"I'm sorry, little candles in big red glass jars mean Jesus!"

"This is like a ninja tea party in here."

"Women wear these."
"Bra?"
"More formal."
"...Bro?"

"BRAIN LIGHTNING!"

"Sure."
"Sure?"
"No."
"No?"
"Don't confuse my hormones. It's bad for everyone's health."

~

You know, it's sort of funny that all the quotes in this one are from or to guys. Little useless piece of information. I'm full of 'em. Also I dunno why I said the Best Of would have three installments. 2008 isn't over and like hell am I pulling a VH1 and reminiscing about a year (or decade) before it's over.

Best Of: Volume 2007

I hate going to the doctor. I also hate needles. Guess who lost sleep to get three needles stabbed into her arm this morning!

~2007~

“You’re beautiful. So shut the fuck up and accept it.”

“I thought Emo was a substitute sour cream.”

“You know that phrase… there’s a door and a window and some other stuff… you know.”

“He wanted an ambulance-flavoured t-shirt.”

“So you’ve got the chair. That means you have to teach.”
“Aww, but I don’t know anything.”

“Learn this now: Jesuits control everything.”
“Including Wikipedia.”

“Come on, it’s not rocket surgery.”

“Mulan is not a Disney princess; she’s a peasant.”
“Okay, well. How about Nala?”
“She’s not a princess either.”
“She married Simba!”
“You can’t be princess by association!”

"Hey, if heresy is the only thing I'm burning for, I'm doing pretty well."

“Well, you know, sometimes penises are evil. And sometimes they do bring doom. You know, like gonorrhea. Kind of like doom.”

“Well, Emily wants world domination and a bagel, but she’s not getting either, is she?”

“What animal does taco meat come from?”

“But he’s twenty-three and bi.”
“What do you have against bisexuals?”
“Nothing. But he’s twenty-three. And that’s seven years older than I am.”
“And it’s rape.”
“And it’s… yeah.”

“Well, Australia.”
“That’s European enough.”

"It's okay, Will, because your name is a verb!"

"Statutory rape is the cheez whiz of rape. Or maybe velveeta."


“That’s gross.”
“That’s art. Get over it.”

"Gabe, why do you have a cantaloupe?"
"It's not mine!"
"Whose is it?"
"Danny's."
"Why do you have Danny's cantaloupe?"
"I stole it."
"...Danny, this is my strangest question of all: why did Gabe steal your cantaloupe?"
"I don't know!"

"Emily, do I rhyme with violence and pestilence and doom?" *receives high five* "Okay, I guess I do."

“Danny! Queen didn’t show up to the prayer service!”
“I know! Neither did Bowie! I was so disappointed.”

"I like how he felt my shoes."
"It's like Jesus washing your feet."
"...Did you seriously just compare Shawn to Jesus?"

"Shawn, why are you holding a duck?"
"I'm the new Paris Hilton."

"So if the baby's a watermelon, and Jason's the vine, what's Nancy?"
Ms. Nickolai: "Nancy's the soil. She got plowed."

"Concerts are kind of athletic."
"Very much so."
"Very athletic. Especially if you're with Alex and Danny. Wait. That's kind of gross."

"American cheese comes from inbred cows."

"His happy trail is like a happy atomic explosion."

"Well, you go change into your exciting pants and get PUMPED for this movie!"

"So a friend of my friend had size F boobs, right? But she can't get them reduced because cartilege grew underneath them to hold them up. That's adaptation at workright there: her boobs were so huge that her body grew itself its own bra."
"...That'd be like nuzzling a shark."

"Anakin is really really really trying so hard."
"That's because he's a wuss."
"Well he becomes darth vader so. I have to say, not exactly wuss material. Just really really randy."
"No, man. Anakin's just an emo kid that turns into a metal head: all sad because of some chick and then he gets his limbs cut off and is pissed off at the world about it."

"I hope that you are a disaster. I'm sorry, but I do. I hope that you are thunder and lightning. I hope you are a forest fire, I hope you kill the dead wood and burn off the rotting leaves. With the canopy gone, the sun can get in. You need new growth. I hope you're terrible and broken and perfect."

"You liiiiiiiiiike hiiiiiim!!!"
"Ader. Uh der? Uh duh? Yes, I like the bastard!"
"Good for you. This explains the alcohol."

"Should I bring anything tomorrow?"
"A smile."
"And pants."
"Yes...pants."
"And make Jon take a shower. And wear pants."

"His house is so hot."
"His? HIS? WHOSE HOUSE ARE YOU AT? HOT SEX?!"
"This house, I meant."
"I loved that typo."
"I loved how you instantly leapt to hot sex."

"I started reading Ethan Frome, and then I said, even if Atonement is about hentai monsters gangbanging schoolgirls, it's going to be better than this piece of shit."

Every She Wants Revenge song, in description by my brother: "~I'm gonna rape you... on the bus~!"


"There is no boy. I've been calling out to my soul mate. He's not answering. Typical men."
"Is that like 'there is no spoon'?"

"I'm handing out bonus points like I'm a trained fish!"

"Everyone is entitled to their own hippopotamus."

"iPod no boom-boom! Me Tarzan! You... Apple genius!"

"Psh, whatever, man. Perfectionists make better lovers. Like bassists."

"Douglas, answer me this: does or does not the booty go smack?"

"The king penguins are on the beach fishing, but they're walking right into an ambush."
"Oh noz!"

"What the fuck? Is that penguin fighting a seal? What, is it gonna win?"
"They do have razor sharp fins, apparently."
Voice-over: "Safe."
"What? Safe? What the hell?"

"I'm bleeding with excitement. My blood turns into liquid excitement."
"From your heart? Your eyes? Either way it's kind of emo."
"From my wrists."
"Even worse. Now I'll have to assassinate you."
"I welcome that day with open, bleeding arms."
"...Man, now I really have to kill you."

Best (or at least, Most Amusing) Of: Volume 2006

So let's be honest here. Honesty is good sometimes. I know nobody reads this shit anymore, and I'm okay with that. As a writer, I have a compulsion to type things into word documents and put them places, whether on the wall or on the internet. And this is my... 89th post--nothing extraordinary, I admit-- and it's been a while since I've actually posted quotes up here, so I decided a couples of days ago (to appease my brother, yes, a couple means two) to go through all the posts and pick out the best ones so no one every has to do that again.

Obviously I'm insane. And now blind from staring at the computer screen for so long. It'll go in installments, because if it didn't it'd be way too fucking long. But here you are.

~2006~

"And that's why sluts aren't allowing in nudist colonies."

"You're not invited to the revolution, and we're gonna have cake, so it sucks for you!"

"Sometimes you have to act like a minion so you can get into a position where you can stab them in the back and trample on their bloody body."

"Your greatest enemy is...? We saw it yesterday."
"Oprah?"

"If she starts making sense, the natural order of the world will crumble."
"And then where we be when we want to make pancakes?"

"When I was a child, I thought as a child, I spoke as a child and I acted as a child. And when I became an adult I put away childish thing. Until I could use my underage technicality to my advantage in bringing down an example of the corrupt greedy capitalist institution."

"The telemarketers come for my brother... Love, get me the shotgun."

"I played poker with a set of tarot cards once. I got a full house and four people died."

"True, despite your alarming inability to spell a three-letter word."

"I got an A+ in badassery and comebacks back in Awesome School."

"This isn't working. Let's get some infinite monkeys."

"We're all watching a Kevin Bacon movie really."
"How do you mean?"
"Well Kevin Bacon's in a lot of movies."
"Oh. I thought you were about to say something profound. My bad."

"No, you didn't. You passed with flying colours."
"No, that was the Gay Pride Parade passing by."

“w.h.o.r.e.= wandering hostile over regurgitating enemas”

“s.p.e.c.i.a.l.= super punching entertaining clown initiating anarchy league”

“Fight for your right to cuss the shit out’a people.”

“Do the hustle… bitch!”

“Oh, you are me.”
“Really? Which one of us is on acid?”

“A spoon full of sugar makes the medicine kickass the medicine kick ass medicine kick asss....a spoon fulla sugar makes the medicine kick ass...in the most PUNKROXORZ WAY!”

“You know what I want? Techno and strobes for my funeral. It’s a party!”

“Getting confirmed is like getting a level in Paladin, right? Heal light wounds, smite evil. But you can only smite evil once a day.”

“Life is… interesting.”
“Hence the pistol.”

"Now, now. If we went around stabbity-stabbing all the stupid people, who would do our bidding?"

"Well, that's what I get for using demon-based paint."

"All is fair in love and Mexican stand-offs."

“I bet Criss Angel can sneeze with his eyes open. Mindfreak that, bitches!”

“Liberace. Did he have a sister Mary? Mariachi?”

“All the cute guys are either gay, short, 25, or taken.”
“It doesn’t get any better.”
“Then I’m becoming a lesbian.”

“Your brothers aren’t tough enough to punch your dates in the face. You’re more likely to punch their dates in the face.”
“Thank you?”

“Because let’s face it, I do put the sexy in dyslexic.”

“I bet you were badass when you were younger. Be all like… Y7, fuck that.”

“I’m sorry, did I miss a chuck of my life when we dated?”

“There’s not a smiley that expresses my ‘what the fuck are you on’ look.”

“Ha! It happened! Screw you, logic!”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”
“The Asian ones.”

“You’re a morally bad dog!”

“Are you naturally this way or do you have help?”

“Come hither, fair strumpet. That means you, Ian.”

"Finding someone at a show is like 'Where's Waldo?' only way fucking harder."

“Emo Mike Cereal; warning: may cause depression, high blood pressure, and a strong urge to write bad poetry.”
“And the urge to save girls from mosh pits.”

“There’s a fine line between dumb and evil.”

“No stabbing in restaurants!”

“New Jersey is lame.”
“I was born in New Jersey.”
“New Jersey is LAME.”

"If we don't eat the irreversibly comatose, we shouldn't eat chickens."

“You can smack me.”
“Andre, that’s a little creepy.”

“What are your views on cheap prostitution? I think it helps build a unified America.”

“God. He’s such a drag queen.”

“If a vampire is draining someone and they start laughing, will blood come out their nose? And if so, whose blood?”

“My mom heard an interview with Keith Richards and he said he’s giving up drugs!”
“Yeah, he’s a goner.”

“If you could choke on stupid, she would have asphyxiated a while back.”

“So how are you?”
“You didn’t get the hint with the shotgun?”

“Doug, stop being on crack.”
“That’s like trying to stop a duck from being on your wife.”

“I just realized because someone mentioned it, but for the longest time I have completely forgotten about the existence of Belgium.”

“Boys should be like Tomigatchi's: if they suck, you can reset them.”
“Or leave them in a drawer until they shut the hell up.”

“Bowling isn’t fun with you, Magneto!”


“If I had a potato, I wouldn’t need sound effects.”


“In the city, there is a dildo factory and they give tours.”
“Is that a GOYB?”

“I think flirting is a science.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t get it.”

“Every time you hear a bell, a fetus gets its wings.”

“I think our friends are a case study waiting to happen.”

“Someone was obviously on acid when they wrote this movie.”
“Oh, the part where Dumbo gets drunk?”
“Yeah, and the… you know… FLYING ELEPHANT PART.”

“Well, it’s kind of a long story, but I almost got mugged and ended up throwing someone through a window.”

“He’s playing guitar. He can’t be bothered with whores.”
“Right. Whores come after we play guitar.”

“The Adventures Of Huck Finn is like How the Grinch Stole Christmas. In How the Grinch Stole Christmas, the Grinch goes on this big moral journey and learns the true meaning of Christmas. In The Adventures Of Huck Finn, Huck goes on a big moral journey and learns the true meaning of slavery!”

"Mister Evans, do we get extra credit if we write our essay in blood?"

“Well, I’m going to walk up the hill.”
“Is that a euphemism for slitting wrists?”
“No, that would be falling down the hill, as in from blood loss.”

What the hell made me love you?

A question I've been asking myself a lot recently, about a lot of things and people. All this introspection and outrospection is in due cause of Saturday's upcoming events: graduation. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited as hell to be leaving an institution (admittedly running headlong into another one), but the massive change is enough to get anyone thinking. Anyone of my mental capacities anyway. I don't know; maybe I'm not as ecstatic to say, "So long, suckers!" and run screaming away from the people with whom I've spent four long, arduous years.

Don't ask me. I'm just a kid. A legal adult, but still just a kid. Aren't we all, though, just trying to figure all this shit out. Maybe I'm naive or maybe I'm pretentious, but I'm working on knowing. Call me if you've got answers. I'm an endless pit of questions that beg definition.


"Hell yeah, I'm from Africa!"

"You can't stop people wearing wedding rings anymore than you can... well, I guess you can stop naked lesbians."

"She's the herald of doom... with a smile!"

"My dick is always out of commission."

"Matt, no giving other guys' girlfriends lapdances. Oh, hey, Mr. Gavin!"

"It's all about the elephants, Mr. Zatkin."

"If you're turning 18
and you're a bit of a queen,
then eat. a. banana!"

"If you're turning 26
and you like big... marshmallows
then eat. a. banana!"

"Cloverfield was a banana!"

"I know why you're so sad! You haven't had sex yet!... Sex class..."

"Jezebel... how can I forget?"

"Lions are not aerodynamic. Better gel that shit down."


And finally, some words of wisdom.

Mr. Gavin's Guide to College Success
Class: "Just go to it. It'll help."
Cocaine: "You will fail. End of story."
Condoms: "If you're watching tv, and oh! there's a penis! USE CONDOMS!"

I am witness 19 of 20 years.

Today is my older brother's birthday. He turns 20. My mind, she is blown, but then again I myself am turning quite a number myself in eleven days. Somehow I always manage to throw myself into an intellectual tizzy when someone I know has a birthday, particularly when it's a significant number. For instance several of my friends have been turning eighteen. I am agog to think that I have survived this long, though thinking of all the things I've done, all the things I haven't done, all the things I might have done... I fear for the future.

But for now, I'll live in the moment and smile at the sweet child's innocence of my cousin Delilah. She is two. I wish I could spent more time with her, and show her all the wonderful, magical things that life has to offer. Her fascination with a fish-shaped cup amuses me to no end. I myself can't remember when I delighted in such a thing.

I'm getting too despondent in this line of thought. It's a birthday. I need another piece of cake.



"I remember when people started calling me 'sir'. Like at the check-out or something. And then I remember when it stopped sounding odd."

"I'm waiting to use the line 'I have underwear that's older than you'."

"The other day I yelled at some skate punks. I told them to get a frickin' job."
"How old were they?"
"Like thirteen. And then I drove away laughing."

My two-year old cousin Delilah: "Where's the cake going?"
"I have to cut it up and put it on plates."
Delilah: "Oh, okay. I'll help you!"

"Someone has to go under Mom's house and dig everything out."
"Aww, man. Am I gonna find Penguin's cave under there or something?"

"Do you want some cake?"
"No, sweetie, I'm still eating pizza."
"But you need some cake!"

"Heroes didn't have any direction before the writers' strike. They just flipped through a couple of old X-Men comics and picked out the good parts."

"Imagine this: Jay and Silent Bob and Deadpool. What an awesome movie that would be! Fuck the Green Hornet movie, make this!"

Delilah: [pulls her dress over her face] "You can't see me!"

"Sweetheart, be careful trying to walk all the way to the kitchen with your dress over your head. There are a lot of things that could hurt you."
"I'll be fine!" [bumps into rocking chair] "Whoopsie!"

[Delilah singing]
"It's like hanging out with Mori. ~Everything I say is a song~."

"Delilah, I don't want that on my cake."
"Why not?"
"Because we don't put toys on cake. They don't taste good."

Delilah: "Where shall he land?"
"How about right here? This seems like a good spot."
"But there's no tea there!"

"She discovered her first cigarette on the street about six months ago. She said, 'What's that?' So I bought her a pack."

People Are Freaks. And these are the good ones.

[comes out wearing a tunic] "Do I look Roman?"
"...You look like you're wearing a nightgown."
"I know, it's ridiculous."

"Love is not an illusion. It is tangible. If I don't believe that, I'll fucking murder someone."

"Ms. D, suppose I had a hypothetical friend who wanted more information on cumming grilled cheese. Where would he find it?"


Now fuck it. I'm going to play tennis.

Benadryl-Induced Blaghing

"Be a kitten, Nell."
"Dude, that's my dream."

"It's all about the elephants, Mr. Zatkin."


I've observed something recently. It seems ludicrous the number of young people-- usually under 15-- who consider themselves "hardcore", or in any way badass. For instance, as I was surfing the internet while I was home sick, I came across this little ditty of a self-description: "You fuck with me I'll kick your ass in so many you won't know what hit you".

Now besides being completely devoid of any punctuation or any semblance of correct grammar, this sentence (if you can call it that) made my stomach turn-- and it wasn't due to my illness. This poor delusional child-- whose name is Tiffany (gag) and calls herself Tiffy (vomit up my spleen)-- is fourteen and thinks that she is in any way capable of performing more than mild acts of violence. While this is entirely possible, my doubt grows with every second that I think: she's a girl, she's fourteen, she's probably a scenester, and she's probably a skinny, spoilt brat who would happily blow a musician to brag to her friends that they're boyfriend and girlfriend.

This makes me wonder, besides how much this thought process is influenced by medication, if I was like that at fourteen. Or probably younger, considering most people think I'm much older than I am. Is everyone so self-absorbed at fourteen as to think their invincible and can make non-empty threats of ass-kicking? If you took the average fourteen year old and they spouted off some nonsense like that, I'd probably fall over laughing.

Then again, what difference does three years make? Sure, it makes a big difference when you're young-- twelve is practically God when you're nine-- but how far apart are two people, fourteen and seventeen years old? Or seventeen and twenty? Twenty-three and twenty-six?

And I haven't even touched on the fact that it's the fourteenth of February. To tell the truth, I don't usually know or care what day it is anyway, and this day is no less important. In addition, I spent the day inside my house playing bass and video games, so I guess it doesn't really make a difference.

All of this might matter when I kick up a band, but I doubt it.

I woke up with the power out

Storm season. Lucky I don't live in Ventura, for several reasons. The latest is tornadoes.


"We should get the mob to back our comic!"

[sigh] "Musicians love my hair."
"Why is that a bad thing?"
"Because they're all over 21!"
"So?"
"I'm underage. Underage + overage = no."
"...You're weird."
"What? How is that weird? I'm trying to be moral!"
"Exactly. Weird."

"Muwahaha, my brothers are working out in the cold whilst I am in here warm... mostly. My feet are cold."
"What are they working on?"
"The fence that got knocked over."
"I was more imagining mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on Poseidon."
"Dude the back of his head is caved in. And, oh yeah, he's a statue."
"Yeah, but you're weird enough to attempt it so why wouldn't the rest of your family?"
"...Touche."

"Immaturity makes the world go 'round. That and broken condoms."

"It has that "we're going to get married and make babies" ring to it."

"Moofins, not milkshakes, bring all the boys to the yard."

"Wow. So obviously I have other things on my mind. I wrote a note on my hand, but instead of "TIE" I wrote "TAI", and I'm trying to type "beginning", but instead I keep writing "begging."
[chokes] "Beg, tie, TAI..."
"Totally unrelated." [shifty eyes]

"I'm not ready to throw myself headfirst at that sidewalk again yet."

"I'm going to chain you to the computer."
No technobondage." [pause] "That sounds... painful. And... staticky."

"Refresh my memory: Did the three bears eat Goldilocks or am I just sick in hoping?"