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The thing I love about live journal, the derelict shopping mall that it has become, is that it's a consistent experience. Reminds me of camping or climbing a hill. For whatever abundant joy it provides you can rest assured that it's always going to be there in the same form as the day you found it
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you probably can play the piano. practice just sucks because it like, i mean, you have to do it. as in ... i, at least, have to do it if i want to not hate myself when i pick up an instrument.
i am storing cds i take to one of my tiny crap jobs in this envelope that says like, "dance cocksucker" or "ben gibbard can suck my dick" or w/e.
i am in california and one day, i will be back down in southern california and i will meet you and you will be wearing fancy jeans.
also, w/e, we're all nerds w/these stupid computer journals we check some times. let it out, brotha. let it out.
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