I'm feeling reclusive, dodging phonecalls and invitations as though I've better places to be, as though I'm not just going to lie in bed, making Coke can pyramids on my nightstand and watching Men Without Hats concert videos on YouTube ( Read more... )

It's raining on game night. It's lovely.
You're lovely.
I'm lovely.
Everything's grand. I think. Right?

In the weeks ahead, there's little room for error, and need for tact and wit and wiles, not to mention ample effort. I need to think about the future! Priorities, priorities, priorities.

This past weekend was predominantly enjoyable while overarchingly unsettling. Huh.

It is not easy to find Montana travel guides on the internet. It is also hard to find pants, which is more or less the problem. It's -4*F (feels like -20!) and the Grand Poobah of Retail keep trying to sell me bikinis. I'm not cut out for this market ( Read more... )

I'm back in Beloit, bruised and bleached and breaking hearts. Somehow I've managed to pass myself off as a responsible student for the past two weeks, and this, coupled with my Debut into Polite Society, would lead me to feel that, on the whole, my Triumphant Return! is fairly successful. But then, I find recently that I'm not exactly "in the ( Read more... )

Everything in Beloit is melting, and everything looks like February and feels like March, but it's not. It's finals! finals! finals! and all the urgency and anxiety I should be feeling are oddly lacking and I don't care I don't care I don't care about goddamn Analysis of Variance or the symbolism of Harley's death or defrosting my mini-fridge ( Read more... )

Dear Disney,

What the hell? You really hate me, don't you. Wouldn't it just be easier to take everything I liked in elementary school and set it on fire?! I admit the Chronicles of Narnia(: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe) was kind of sweet, and Hey! Congratulations! You now have a franchise that will keep you rolling in it long after WB ( Read more... )

It keeps raining. I rather wish it would snow.

But no, really. What do you want for Christmas?

I've decided that what last night lacked was an alternative, or an escape plan, if you will. Though, well, I guess it might just be that I just don't understand Metal. It seems like nothing but an excuse to jab Some Guy in the neck for thirty second intervals without ever actually having to come to fisticuffs. RUAAAHHHHHHHHHH ( Read more... )

I just had a twenty minute argument with my dad over who sings "Blister in the Sun".

I said Violent Femmes.
He said George Michael.