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[27 Jun 2004|02:09am] |
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I totally locked myself in the bathroom today. (Err. Last night). I couldn't get out for a couple of hours, until the mother came home. I called J.Stokes and he laughed, then I called Nik, who was off gallivanting around Garfield. I am such a clumsy-face. And it wasn't one of those magical self-discovery experiences, either -- no, no. It was boring. I bathed.
And Marley-Man totally passed up Harry Potter with me so he could play videogames and have BBQed chicken.
This computer makes me hate life. A lot. So slow.
I like walking places.
My little sister reads bad books. Like Speak and The Perks of Being a Wallflower. They normally wouldn't be too yucksome, just as long as her taste was a bit more diversified. But NO. It's not. Every book she reads is like those books. It's disgusting. I mean, it's alright to have guilty pleasures but...I can totally see her growing up to be an avid Stephen King fan. THIS IS NOT GOOD. MUST ENLIGHTEN HER WHILE I STILL CAN.
Speaking of books -- today, I found my copy of REVOLUTION FOR THE HELL OF IT, as well as Fahrenheit 451. Damnit. I almost cried. I love you, Abbie/Ray. You make me want to levitate Pentagons/become books. Lovelovelove.
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[27 Jun 2004|12:57pm] |
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I'm not ready.
I can't continue to crash like this.
If I were to count out all the minutes, events, social interactions, hours of solitude, promises kept, and made, and broken, the disappointments, the revelations, the failures, the epiphanies -- if I were to count all those and more, add them, divide them, find the mean and its verbal equivalency -- then that word would be "anti-climactic."
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_uncouth