So I make a livejournal entry about the realization of the end of my childhood, and I just spent an hour skim boarding on my adjacent apartment complex's front lawn as a result of the flash flooding.

Game on.

I guess it's to be expected to feel oddly reminiscent when listening to Duane Joseph by The Juliana Theory at 3:30 in the morning. I hadn't listened to this song since I was in 10th grade, and it came on shuffle on someone else's iPod the other night. I mean, I had so forgotten about this song, and album, that it had disappeared from my entire ( Read more... )

http://www.sarahjessicaparkerlookslikeahorse.com/06.htm

In Weedeater's cover of "Gimme Back My Bullets", when he says "Tell all them pencil-pushers to get the fuck out of my way" I want to get in a fight.

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Tonight was UNREAL.

While the lake is still fresh in my mind, I just need to jot down a few tidbits ( Read more... )

As I sit here on my couch, shirtless and eating pasta salad straight from it's container because I was too lazy to get a bowl, I'm uneasily at ease. It's a very strange feeling, that half in/half out feeling. On the one hand I have my blonde dilemma, pasta salad, a summer of the aforementioned ahead of me, and on the other I've got that little ( Read more... )

I've tied a date to a kite string, and let it go. Hopes are that awkward period before the kite has caught the wind and hangs up there indefinitely--when it has the chance to just fall back to the earth with you running along, being tailed by a length of string and colored cloth bouncing awkwardly against the ground.

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