damn

Whenever I see or think about how my toenail can be pulled back and up with little effort, and that it's only hanging on by a thread, I do this really violent twitch and my mouth fills with the taste of blood. It is god awful.

goddamn

Today was pretty good, atleast the last two hours of it. I need to stay after school with Robert and Tommy more often, I'm less of a dick and more open minded, I think, when school lets out. All I did was skip around and try to initiate conversations with people who just kinda walked away nervously and make me feel like shit.

you know my biggest fear

is that some stranger will think I'm one of those cool ass emo hipsters because of my hair so I dress erratically and walk differently than one of them to distance myself from that group of fuckups as far as possible. Also when people assume that I like metal, goddamn.

goddamn

I'm broke, shit sucks. It's really fucking hot, it sucks. daaaaaamn

I told Mari that I love her

'sup?

There was a hurricane in Indiana?

poppycock. It was just a light breeze, I got to video tape it knocking over tree's and shit though.

Listen man you wanted me to make a blog

You were all "Oh it'll be swell and all this great stuff you're a good writer and funny and interesting," so I made one and it's not what you wanted because it's insane rambling that I think up in about a split second then type out but forget what I'm typing halfway through so I just make up something to fill in the blank spots. Goddamn it Robert.

I keep having this weird dream where I'm on some kind of pseudo Bardstown Road, with weird New Orleans old style architecture. I'm always riding down the road at twilight on a bicycle, and there's a good foot of water. All the buildings are really bright and cool looking, and at the end I find J. Gumbo. It is sweet in ways that I cannot describe in the jumbled state that I'm always in.

I keep asking people that if my hair was emo enough someone might love me and they don't understand that I'm being facetious and don't really care what people think of my hair.

But uh, yeah, had a pretty good day, I'm a horrible friend the end. I'm also horribly self degrading, that's usually an issue but really it's more annoying for the people around me.

Dance Like you're Selling Nails

Just for the record the concept of running my own head into a brick wall repeatedly just for shits and giggles sounds like a really fucking awesome one. That or having a glass bottle broken over my face, I'm lacking scars with a really cool/good/funny story to them besides the one on my arm from that self inflicted bike wreck so ok here's the story on that. I was riding to Tommy's on my bike with flat tires and I was a little tired but that doesn't matter that's not what about the story is about, I was at the top of a hill that leads into his sub-division. I went down that fucker as fast as possible knowing full well that I had to make a sharp right turn at the bottom of that hill to enter the sub-division, I made that turn at full fucking speed. The bike went sideways, completely, to the point that I was kind of laying on the ground but the only part of me actually touching the ground was a part of my elbow which got thoroughly skinned, skinned to shit. I got up full of adrenaline and covered in blood (my arm was covered in blood and there was a little on the ground, it was an even transaction, I got gravel in my arm, the gravel got arm in it). These old people rolled down their window's like they were some real G's and were like "ARE YOU ALL RIGHT YOUNG MAN?" and I just pulled my bike up and said "I have never been better, at all".

So theres that theory that you are never really what you say you are, like if I said I was a talented writer/artist I really wouldn't be. I say I'm an asshole and a couple of people disagree. But by that logic you could be whatever you want just by saying you're the opposite. I'm a bad artist, a horrible writer, and an ugly fucker. Now thanks to science I am the opposite of those, fuck and yes.

Robert start reading this blog or I'll smash your ass with a piece of glass.

A BLOG ABOUT MY CATS

Listen to me because this is important, I don't want to get fucked by you anymore oh god I used the word fuck I'm going to hell oh god oh god oh sweet merciful Jesus.

Today I learned that the phrase "Walking Spanish Down the Hall" means being carried by your ass to the electric chair if you're being a rambunctious wanker.

Ok so Robert I'm really serious if you aren't reading this blog yet I'll be pissed because I think you could very well be my only reader ever, not even your sister or random strangers have read/commented on my pathetic ramblings come on man hustle up get on the ball.

I have the most deadpan voice ever, when I sing, I talk.

I basically hate everything that reminds me of something else. There is no originality anymore, only copies and cliche's of everything else. I am standing by this statement and I am also not a hypocrite because I am daaaaaaaaaamn well aware of how much of a tool/radge I am.

Quit it man I don't need to be kicked so roughly

Today was pretty damn well, as far as days go and all, me being the midnight vulture that I am. I basically was passed out and indisposed of the entire day of school, it's a good thing but during third block I kinda sprung up and had a second wind where I just freaked everyone's shit out, but really I'm more afraid of them than they are of me, I mean come on, there's like, five-hundred dudes running around the school in some kind of Hollister/American eagle/abrecrombie & Fitch/aeropostale shirts, man sandals (those goofy ass flip flops), and with the same spikey/mop top haircut. It's like they're all the same dude and it scares the living hell out of me. Same goes to the emo/scene/goth kids, y'all should be ashamed, really.

After school and prosser and all I cheesed it down to N'awlbany, picked up two girls, one dikey, one militarey, and drove them about 1 mile down the road, dropped one off, followed another to her work. I hung out at her work for 3 hours, reading American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis which I had bought at her work earlier. In the middle of reading my phone went off five times, each time it was someone I didn't really want to talk to, like my mom or step dad telling me what time they wanted me home and I was like "You guys are being god damned childish and I am not having this conversation with you", and hung up like the smug badass I am. It was gloomy as hell outside, I know because I ate a rally's burger on the sidewalk basically in a shallow puddle. Now I'm a man who likes his rain, but the whole, gray skys and just general lugubrious-ness bugged me.

Mari and I drove about Louisville for awhile, cruising actually is the word for what we were doing. We sat around Headliners for about half an hour, shot the shit with Robert over the phone, while I, the smooth cowboy that I am, chatted up J.C. (Lucky Pineapple's Drummer/Religious Icon), he asked me how school was and stuff like that, books, music, how shitty most all music is in the 00's, and other cool things. The Lucky Pineapple was just fantastic in every possible way, the music, the humor, the trombones, all of it. They closed with Roadside Sexx Change, but when asked what they were closing with the lead guitarist/singer was like "This is a song called...'Drinking Blood and Fucking Zombies'", and I laughed my ass off at this because I knew what was going on, go me.

At the diner I watched Mari smoke while I downed coffee in the fashion that I drink shots of jagaer/tequila, like I hate it with a passion. Cream and Sugar is for pussies, like my gramma once said to my dad a long ass time ago (or what I can assume was a long ass time ago, she's dead), so I drink it the man/gramma way, black as black can be. Mari and I talked to random drunks, I sang along to that song that goes,

"Smoke smoke smoke that cigarette, puff puff puff if you smoke yourself to death. I'll tell saint Peter at the golden gates that I hates to make him wait, but I just gotta have another, cigarette...etc"

it was cash because it's like some 18 year old transgendered (transgendered as in the guy to my immediate right at the diner adressed me as young lady which I did not retort with my usual comeback when someone says this) dude singing a song that really only these old 70 year olds should be familiar with. I am hip with the elderly generations.

At the park I did my best impersonation of a hoover vacuum and if you are still reading this then goddamn I am not interesting at all my writing/typing style is a cornucopia of stolen ones from people with real honest to god talent like Kerouac, Wolfe, or Thompson. Fuuuuuuuuuck.

STAY THE COURSE

For my senior year of high school I am maintaining the course, a tactic devised by George W. Bush, a tactic that has worked very well for the past 8 years. I will continue to alienate and neglect my friends to new levels, quite possibly and hopefully losing them all, good for them. I will build an emotional wall around myself that makes it impossible for anyone to connect with me. I will allow my grades to continue to slip as I myself slip into a completely horrible depression that will leave me mentally scarred and schizophrenic for the next 15-20 years. I will become anorexic, insomniatic, and republicanatic.

This will be a good year in many regards because without any friends or schoolwork to worry about I can focus on my writing. What am I writing? Besides a blog, I'm filling notebooks with really angry notes on school, or dreams I have when I dream. No one can bother my in my notebooks ok?

I have a job, I work at Sports Time, I make enough money to allow me to eat one meal a day and maybe afford a drink or a pack of cigarettes I can barter off to people for money or goods. I like to work my job as many hours a week as possible, closing every night and getting on average a good 2 hours of sleep a night. I'm a person who needs sleep or else I start becoming delirious and start to hallucinate. I am using my body as an ugly science experiment to see what happens when I get as little sleep as possible, eat as little as possible, and possibly abuse caffeine so I'm always able to propel myself with pure rage and adrenaline no matter how impoverished I am from lack of sleep, nutrients, and general well being.

This will be a good year, I love you all so much.