Jazzy

How come my incense smells like a mixture between old underwear and something not as bad as old underwear?

Rowdy weekend, nearly nude, rock and roll, highlife and wine, a sister, a father, good friends from this town and other towns.  

I just got my Tupac cigarette case in the mail and I feel cooler than I should

disjointed things.

Coffee will become my new drug of choice in the coming weeks, as I won't have time or energy for booze or much else, and I will have lots of time to load up on stimulants, sleep less than I should, and read a lot of things.

With coffee comes more cigarettes, and at least I have this tiny light at the end of every half hour tunnel where I get to use my new Tupac case.  

back to books.

godfuckingdammit 

i need to write in the books i read, and it hurts bad when i can't.

I just wrote my second ever children's song.

It's called You're Mystery Meat, and it's about mixing up all the school lunch food you get in the cafeteria during elementary school.  And it's about a lot of other things.  

I wish I could write more songs like this, but they normally just pop out once every six months in about a ten minute time span.  

Also, today I was reminded of the general goodness of normal people.  Sometimes I forget that the normal people I have a overbearing distaste for are really full of good once in a while.

Now I have to write the paper I've been procrastinating on the things I don't know or agree with.  Yuck.

A carpenter

Today was too nice to stay inside.  It was also too uninspired to do anything interesting.

So we pooled ideas, some irrational, some stupid.  We played with a tire for a half hour.  Then we played with some sticks and some rocks.  Then we nailed boards to a tree and built a ladder to the roof to lay back and absorb every ray of sun that big ball of fire could spit at us.  

Now we're gonna make burgers and punk rockers are going to take over the town.

Nausea

I woke up this morning to find my bedsheets sprawled all over my floor.  There was vomit involved and a lot of confusion.

Embarrassment set in pretty quickly and I felt like a freshman again.  And I don't even care about something silly like St Patrick's Day.  Chrrrrist.

BREAK OUT THE MOTHERFUCKING BICYCLE CAUSE IT'S WARM AS SHIT

a new tattoo is a new reason to think

I have two online away message/status update/blog traditions that i cannot help.

on the fourth of july, i always find myself posting lyrics from Baby I'm an Anarchist and when i get a new tattoo, Trio always finds its way onto the internet.

I forgot how much certain parts of the body hurt when a weird blade is slicing up the skin in every direction, and learned of new parts that hurt even worse: the nipple's surrounding area, the middle of the fucking chest, and anywhere near an armpit.  I am a crumpled up ball of exhausted, excited, and completely sick of waiting for things.

Now it's time for beers with Corey.

PS. One more Blink cover down.  Two more to go.  Even when I'm unproductive at this house all alone, I am still productive.  The lonely home also allows me to listen to the music i've made without feeling self-absorbed or pretentious.  Gregg Demarke made a really fucking wonderful recording of our shitty songs, and i wish we would have done something with his hard work instead of letting it sit on a total of eight or nine computers.

blood in my throat, smoke in the air

I am back in normal.

that'd be a pretty cool sentence if one had never heard of the town.

There is a dead thing named Vince in my room and it's making me feel like a quitter.  Oh well, he lead a pretty long life.  Maybe I'll put him on someone's windshield and they won't get a kick out of it.

fuck, there is no substitute for a good recording.

unwilling and able

now I'm gonna go record my voice until tomorrow it hurts me to swallow.  and even then it won't sound good, but maybe tonight something passable will fall out.  

i wrote a punk rock song a week ago about today.

a would be addendum,

were it not for its completely contradictory nature.

ok.  

unhealthyshitbrown is better for my eyeballs than the ridiculous blackwhite contrast, so let's see how this works out.

and fuck,

Brian Wilson knew what was going on.  he can make a boy smile. fr realz.

PS. There's nothing like starting a new blog to refresh your minimal html skills.  I feel ridiculously accomplished for aligning my title to the left.

To begin again

Dear scott,

black and white?

is this (horrendously overused) template fitting for what i do or feel or what i want to do or feel?

Goodbye to the old friends that left or stayed.  Hello to the no-ones and secretbodies. Welcome back cryptic fingertips and the ways you walk.  

Really though.  Here's the new blog and its product probably won't be much different than the old one.  

<3

scott