Jagged waves of anger and negativity are spinning grimly across the city, filling the air air with the smell of imaginary ozone, the cloying scent of psychic poison. O rage! O désespoir! Soon: exploding heads! Meat-spattering atomic skullbombs! This is too much. Reciprocal death ray warfare with the angry offices of the Joint Educational Project. ( Read more... )

"A young man knows little of life; less of himself. He feels in his bosom the various impulses, wild desires, restless cravings he can hardly tell for what, a sombre melancholy when all is gay, a violent exhilaration when others are sober."Meanwhile ( Read more... )

auwghh i feel angry and disappointed and tired and basically just shitty. i don't think i could even really explain why. i never understand my feelings, where do they come from, where do they go when they're done? i feel like a black box. things go into me and things come out of me, and i don't understand any of it. is that just a teenage thing? ( Read more... )

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Eight days into February. What do I have to say for myself? In my defense:

- my bed is very comfortable
- the weed has been dense and plentiful
- i don't trust anybody around here to cut my hair

Those are the facts. That should explain just about everything.

Listen to this: I watched Return of the Jedi last night, for the first time this ( Read more... )

As of this afternoon, I am the proud owner of an authentic Golden State Warriors sweatband - I can now publicly display my devotion to J-Rich & company by soaking the logo of my favorite basketball team in my precious, steamy sweat-juices every time I go running. This rules ( Read more... )

A man in Hollywood sold me a flower made from a palm branch for five dollars. I carried it in my right hand during the metro's slow subterranean crawl back to Figueroa. Eight days later. Slim tells me he is taking up method acting, hoping to compete with Denzel Washington for an oscar. He was overjoyed to hear that I was a member of his group on ( Read more... )

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Sitting in my room with the blinds closed. Listening to songs about outer space - one the one hand we have David Bowie singing about alienated astronauts disappearing into the abyss, and on the other we have Peter Schilling singing about the cold beautiful weightlessness of life above Earth.

Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do.

Stole it from Liz:

take the first sentence from the first post of every month (for 2004)

January
"Last night was pretty insane."

February
"So my R.A. walks into my room today and I'm totally holding a beer in my hand."

March"We have very literate conversations about Hemingway and Bukowski and tell ourselves that we're living for the sake of art ( Read more... )