i'm feeling like i've already lost a lot of friends. those high school kids could have been the best i'll find. for some reason i'm looking forward to life after school because of the people i might work with. i don't know why i'd feel that way but it's true. i think it's still based in the bermuda-dive idea. those people seem like fun.
i'll watch shows like scrubs that make doctoring seem like fun... i guess they also make it difficult. if only it was really that way in real life, maybe i'd be tempted to do more. i could still take the mcats, although i feel like i'm behind in almost every facet of getting accepted into a medical school. i'm not prepared to spend an entire semester wasting away studying for that damn test. my grades are fine at a great institution but everyone with better scores than mine still complains about them. the same people who have been working in the health field for years, who have connections everywhere... i've got nothing. i'm a perfectly capable, perfectly wonderful guy. that will get me nowhere. a band. i think i want to be in a band. that's maybe the most far fetched idea of all.
i get lonely every now and then. seriously depressingly down. just the need for another person. any sort of serious connection that validates you as a human being. one person is nothing. that's the definition of failure. the human race cares not about you. any reason to feel truly loved. somehow i can't get past the limitations i set... as well as the fact that i'm not being any little bit proactive in the matter. i have no idea how. no clue.
i hope the poem i posted was enjoyed by someone. i know it wasn't. i know nobody's seen it. i need to figure out some way to post all this on my old blog and block everyone from wake from seeing it. i criticized snow patrol today for being lazy lyricists. it's true. if you're poetic at all, you won't put the wrong em-PHA-sis on the wrong syl-LA-ble unless you really want to. they just don't give a shit. throw in random words just to make your lines work. words in the wrong places so they sound terribly wrong. you know, if you'd just try a little bit harder, put a little effort into it, you could write gold songs that actually deserve to be heard. oh well. lazy bastards.
i don't know if i've mentioned it lately at all but i love the decemberists. love them. love you colin. really just the crane wife album. but seriously, i love you colin meloy. that's where i want to be. touring with the decemberists. that's a life. i could die having been a bitch doctor without ever "making it" or i could do something i love but have no idea how to begin at. i guess it will end up being the latter... hooray.
i guess it begins with finding my people. the ones who don't make me sick of them so quickly. who are ok with the fact that i am who i am.
who i am.
who i am.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
the alchemy between us
late night dark room lovely
i wish i could write music. be in a band. have some camaraderie like that. someday i think i will. i feel like my skill set dictates i could be a serviceable bassist if not a rhythm guitar. someday. i get so sick of somedays.
we spoke in bible today of ecclesiastes. i'd never read it before... any part of the bible, really. before this class anyway. well, the gist of ecclesiastes is that we could die at any time and that we should find what we really enjoy in life and throw ourselves into it completely. and i thought of being 32 and having worked at the hospital for years and still not be making any money. i mean money isn't something to judge a life by but it is a path to enjoying other things. i just can't see, right now, enjoying waking up every morning to go be a bitch to authority. it kind of buried that idea for me. leaning more and more towards working somewhere fun and doing something i enjoy. what that is... i'm not quite sure of yet. maybe i'll hike the AT someday. takes money though. as does opening a pizza shop or a coffee place that serves alcohol and plays music.
i can see myself in my coffee shop in some big, interesting city. i'm sitting behind the counter playing electric guitar through this little amp when somebody walks up. they don't know what they want so i play a little while they decide. i want to be that guy, i guess, sometimes. you know, if you walk into a coffee place and the owner is there playing guitar behind the counter... that's somewhere you'd want to stay. where there's local art on the walls and the music is coming from the guy's computer. this isn't starbucks. i want that to work. i need capital somehow.
i'm a writer for a british motorcycle magazine. i take photographs for a living. i document the real world, one way or another. a photojournalist. untrained. i don't have this little layer of flab around my stomach.
every time i close my eyes, it gets harder to open them.
a couple days ago, in basic lab safety training - read, "two hour powerpoint lecture" - nobody was paying attention. well, the two kids beside me were whispering and got bitched at pretty badly by the speaker. i didn't even look at them. i wasn't paying attention either. i scratched a sonnet on the inside of my folder. if i'd had another hour, i might have finished it. it's still about 6 lines short but whatever... i changed the last two this morning anyway. i'm trying to get over the idea that i can't edit anything i write because then it's not the same anymore. not the same paragraph. not the same pome. not the original, what came out. anyway, here are the first ten lines:
a year before we meet on Baker street
you left my coffee cold and freezing wind
that time i told you we should just be friends
the leaves were not so red on Baker street
the corner shop is now a pizza place
all robot art and nineties indie rock
still sit outside until they close the park
the winter breezes and my burning face
i heard that you were doing pretty well
from deep within my knock-down drag-out days
..........................................................................................
it hurt enough to think i had to stay
to wait so you could find me when you fell
the trees are still the same on Baker street
dead leaves in whistling breezes spin around
two small hot chocolates and a displaced town
it's warming up a bit on Baker street
it's not even about anybody in particular. the last 6 lines i just wrote right now. i hope they work. the last two lines before the break used to be "i heard you lived your life, i had a cage / a fool-proof metal jacket down inside / you left for home the day the music died." the last line was going to have something to do with a stage. returning to a smaller stage. something like that... felt too much like a rebel hippie thing, though. i don't know. it's done.
i wish i could write music. be in a band. have some camaraderie like that. someday i think i will. i feel like my skill set dictates i could be a serviceable bassist if not a rhythm guitar. someday. i get so sick of somedays.
we spoke in bible today of ecclesiastes. i'd never read it before... any part of the bible, really. before this class anyway. well, the gist of ecclesiastes is that we could die at any time and that we should find what we really enjoy in life and throw ourselves into it completely. and i thought of being 32 and having worked at the hospital for years and still not be making any money. i mean money isn't something to judge a life by but it is a path to enjoying other things. i just can't see, right now, enjoying waking up every morning to go be a bitch to authority. it kind of buried that idea for me. leaning more and more towards working somewhere fun and doing something i enjoy. what that is... i'm not quite sure of yet. maybe i'll hike the AT someday. takes money though. as does opening a pizza shop or a coffee place that serves alcohol and plays music.
i can see myself in my coffee shop in some big, interesting city. i'm sitting behind the counter playing electric guitar through this little amp when somebody walks up. they don't know what they want so i play a little while they decide. i want to be that guy, i guess, sometimes. you know, if you walk into a coffee place and the owner is there playing guitar behind the counter... that's somewhere you'd want to stay. where there's local art on the walls and the music is coming from the guy's computer. this isn't starbucks. i want that to work. i need capital somehow.
i'm a writer for a british motorcycle magazine. i take photographs for a living. i document the real world, one way or another. a photojournalist. untrained. i don't have this little layer of flab around my stomach.
every time i close my eyes, it gets harder to open them.
a couple days ago, in basic lab safety training - read, "two hour powerpoint lecture" - nobody was paying attention. well, the two kids beside me were whispering and got bitched at pretty badly by the speaker. i didn't even look at them. i wasn't paying attention either. i scratched a sonnet on the inside of my folder. if i'd had another hour, i might have finished it. it's still about 6 lines short but whatever... i changed the last two this morning anyway. i'm trying to get over the idea that i can't edit anything i write because then it's not the same anymore. not the same paragraph. not the same pome. not the original, what came out. anyway, here are the first ten lines:
a year before we meet on Baker street
you left my coffee cold and freezing wind
that time i told you we should just be friends
the leaves were not so red on Baker street
the corner shop is now a pizza place
all robot art and nineties indie rock
still sit outside until they close the park
the winter breezes and my burning face
i heard that you were doing pretty well
from deep within my knock-down drag-out days
..........................................................................................
it hurt enough to think i had to stay
to wait so you could find me when you fell
the trees are still the same on Baker street
dead leaves in whistling breezes spin around
two small hot chocolates and a displaced town
it's warming up a bit on Baker street
it's not even about anybody in particular. the last 6 lines i just wrote right now. i hope they work. the last two lines before the break used to be "i heard you lived your life, i had a cage / a fool-proof metal jacket down inside / you left for home the day the music died." the last line was going to have something to do with a stage. returning to a smaller stage. something like that... felt too much like a rebel hippie thing, though. i don't know. it's done.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
time to get away
i'm sitting out in the hazy sunshine with a brand new pen on reynolda's patio. studying. right. i have an exam in 90 minutes. that's plenty of time. i like this pen. there's a disrespectful group of middle school-looking kids below me on a tour. Large and Random. look to be inner-city, mostly black... but there's one chubby white kid with a mohawk and big white southpole shirt. he doesn't count. this one black kid has on a tan button shirt and matching plaid shorts, all the same design. the short sleeves goes down to his elbows. the shorts end at his ankles. looks like a little clown. uh oh. another group of similar aged kids just entered the pation. i hope there's a streetfight, west-side story style.
there are 18 people walking across the mag quad on sidewalks right now, only 2 are walking on the grass. i'm watching for little kids dancing, for people walking in step with my music - "time to get away" ~ LCD Soundsystem
it's a little too quick a beat for walking.
i really just want a gun. the mag quad is framed in trees with four sidewalks crossing it parallel down its length. every now and then, someone will appear on one side and walk straight across to the other, only to disappear again. there's maybe 6-8 people on some quieter times. they look like little moving targets. feels like a video game. one that you'd sell to kids to make them aspiring mercenaries. everyone's an innocent civilian.
i can hear the thrum of an airplane over "side with the seeds." i'm and out of clouds. makes you wonder if it's really there or not.
makes you wonder, you know?
there are 18 people walking across the mag quad on sidewalks right now, only 2 are walking on the grass. i'm watching for little kids dancing, for people walking in step with my music - "time to get away" ~ LCD Soundsystem
it's a little too quick a beat for walking.
i really just want a gun. the mag quad is framed in trees with four sidewalks crossing it parallel down its length. every now and then, someone will appear on one side and walk straight across to the other, only to disappear again. there's maybe 6-8 people on some quieter times. they look like little moving targets. feels like a video game. one that you'd sell to kids to make them aspiring mercenaries. everyone's an innocent civilian.
i can hear the thrum of an airplane over "side with the seeds." i'm and out of clouds. makes you wonder if it's really there or not.
makes you wonder, you know?
Saturday, September 29, 2007
linen and curls
i am wearing... a driving cap.
and a white t-shirt and good jeans and socks. i feel like i should be on stage in liverpool, really. or on a stage at springfest, really. like it's ever gonna happen.
the presidential ball is coming up in a couple weeks. i heard it's gatsby-themed. if so, i'm officially excited. i didn't even know. ordered these hats on monday cause i'd been looking for something like that online for months. got to school friday right before i left for home. wonderful and cheap.
today was beautiful. i wish there were a better way to describe it but really, it was beautiful. gorgeous southern autumn. maybe a little hot but not bothersome. motorcycles everywhere. i drove around listening to lcd soundsystem thumping hard. felt happy to be who i felt i was. after dinner i drove back slowly in the country singing along to the decemberists. all of a sudden fan. i need to make it to their show soon. in fact, they're playing in winston nov. 6 and 7... two days before bright eyes. what a week.
i've been thinking a lot about the future. the present is frustrating so it's nice to dream. honestly, nothing i've really thought about has included medicine. no med school, pharm school, internships, residencies... nothing. i can see running a dive shop in bermuda. or a skydiving outfit somewhere out west. i can see myself owning and running an alcoholic coffee shop/art gallery/tiny live music venue. i'd call it either "sound of silver" or "moonunit cafe". if you take either of those names i'll kill you. i'd throw some old but comfy furniture about - none matching - and play whatever music i wanted. i'd put a sign in the front window calling for artists to give me shit to decorate my walls with that i could also sell. i could live in a little apartment in a cool part of town and meet interesting people. walk through central park taking pictures with a film camera. i think wherever i live, there will be a motorcycle involved. my mother can believe what she wants.
in fact, i need that camera sooner than later. i want to get some concert pics together.
"my girl, linen and curls..." is there any more beautiful way to describe someone? i believe she's perfect. how much good would it do me to meet someone about now? wake's pool is just so small... and, more importantly, i'm just so... i understand that you can't meet someone without ever speaking to them but somehow i still haven't gotten past it.
to someday, cheers.
the decemberists, "crane wife 1&2", 2:25 in. that's exactly how i feel about the future.
and a white t-shirt and good jeans and socks. i feel like i should be on stage in liverpool, really. or on a stage at springfest, really. like it's ever gonna happen.
the presidential ball is coming up in a couple weeks. i heard it's gatsby-themed. if so, i'm officially excited. i didn't even know. ordered these hats on monday cause i'd been looking for something like that online for months. got to school friday right before i left for home. wonderful and cheap.
today was beautiful. i wish there were a better way to describe it but really, it was beautiful. gorgeous southern autumn. maybe a little hot but not bothersome. motorcycles everywhere. i drove around listening to lcd soundsystem thumping hard. felt happy to be who i felt i was. after dinner i drove back slowly in the country singing along to the decemberists. all of a sudden fan. i need to make it to their show soon. in fact, they're playing in winston nov. 6 and 7... two days before bright eyes. what a week.
i've been thinking a lot about the future. the present is frustrating so it's nice to dream. honestly, nothing i've really thought about has included medicine. no med school, pharm school, internships, residencies... nothing. i can see running a dive shop in bermuda. or a skydiving outfit somewhere out west. i can see myself owning and running an alcoholic coffee shop/art gallery/tiny live music venue. i'd call it either "sound of silver" or "moonunit cafe". if you take either of those names i'll kill you. i'd throw some old but comfy furniture about - none matching - and play whatever music i wanted. i'd put a sign in the front window calling for artists to give me shit to decorate my walls with that i could also sell. i could live in a little apartment in a cool part of town and meet interesting people. walk through central park taking pictures with a film camera. i think wherever i live, there will be a motorcycle involved. my mother can believe what she wants.
in fact, i need that camera sooner than later. i want to get some concert pics together.
"my girl, linen and curls..." is there any more beautiful way to describe someone? i believe she's perfect. how much good would it do me to meet someone about now? wake's pool is just so small... and, more importantly, i'm just so... i understand that you can't meet someone without ever speaking to them but somehow i still haven't gotten past it.
to someday, cheers.
the decemberists, "crane wife 1&2", 2:25 in. that's exactly how i feel about the future.
Friday, September 21, 2007
"even in his heart the devil
has to know the water level.
are you writing from the heart?
are you writing from the heart?"
~sufjan stevens
late night. dark room. headphones in. beautiful.
oh, great intentions. the last blog went sour. it will always hold a special place in my heart, it being where i learned to be a human being and all... time to move on. feel the illinoise. all that jazz.
a couple relatively unimportant things have happened recently. i found out i get to work with monkeys in my internship. i love my boss australian doctor. i bowled eight strikes in a row after a crappy first four frames. got a 213, my best score ever. started the next game with 2 more. that's right. 10. later on, another 208 with 7 straight, not including an assist from goob. i ran farther than i ever have before.
it's been getting beautiful up in here. autumn has finally found its way to the east coast. i always remember the moment, every single year, when the air is first crisp, cool. there's only one. about a week ago, i walked outside one morning and took it in. i love it. the dew on the grass is sticking around much longer, too. i need to go running some more.
i see emily around every now and then. it's nice being able to use names. i see emily kristina around every now and then. once, last week, i had to pee but the bathroom of the suite i was currently drinking in was in use so i thought i'd walk down to meghan's room and use hers. i knocked and, naturally, emily opened the door. i guess i should give her credit for not writing me up for being drunk but seeing as she's a pothead, alchy whore (i really have no right to call her that, but i'm not too worried about it right now), it would have been more than a little hypocritical. i went to the bathroom. they wondered why i didn't stick around but i joked about just using meg for her toilet and left. emily started talking to me again, reading my away messages, making small talk. she sent me a song i can't stop listening to. i don't know if it's because it's a good song or if it's just because it's from her. through some manner of mind-over-matter, i need to numb her down. she's a sensitive spot still, like annie. it's frustrating. annie's a whole different story. she's overreacting.
a couple days ago, i was walking out of reynolda, passed and waved to caroline, and walked up the left side of the quad. right behind emily and some other guy... i don't know why i can't just handle these things. i think i was scared she'd see me and i'd have to pretend some other way that i didn't see her. i cut off at campus grounds and headed back to the apartment a back way. argh. she hasn't tried to speak to me recently. i can't help but feel like i'm being unfair to her. that she just wants to be friends. still, meghan assures me she's in a sketch ditch this semester and i'm not gonna lie - her getting high and going swimming with random guys just isn't attractive to me. i guess that's the key with her and annie both: learning over time (a matter of years for me, apparently) that they aren't the people you love anymore. that will sink in eventually... i hope.
and still there are pretty girls. a cheerleader i kind of know through other friends i've gotten to speak to a couple times this semester. this overtly pretty girl she is friends with. both of them are in both my HES classes this semester, stats and phys. this other girl sits near me sometimes in phys. she's just composed as she could be, obviously intelligent as hell, pretty as well. we've never spoken. one girl in the stats class... my goodness. great body, short brown hair, really an understated kind of girl but really pretty just in that natural way. i think i'm more attracted to people like her. less makeup. less pretentious. maybe i feel like i'd have more of a chance with her. she's intelligent, too. i don't know what i'm expecting. someday it will hit me that i'm never going to get a date with anybody if i never speak to anybody. that looking cool in the back of the room is never going to get her to voluntarily start a conversation with me. it just doesn't work that way. somehow i know that but i just don't... it hasn't completely sunk in yet. not in a way that is going to make me change yet. it's sad, really.
couple of us went to ishi tonight. i ordered sushi for the first time and loved it. didn't eat too much, kept leftovers in the fridge. it's going to be delicious later. austin wore her black square glasses that i love. she seems like a really fun kid. doubt she has any interest in me, though. and anyway, she's short ;) oh fuck, two more. two girls i get mixed up every time i see them. only because they're never together... alli and steph. steph it sounds like is basically pre-engaged to this guy back home. she's still very down to earth and pretty. relaxed. alli is a bit more of a party girl but gorgeous. she's doing that annoying thing on facebook where she's married to one of her girlfriends so i have no idea if she has a boyfriend or not. go figure. at least we are on a speaking basis. that's a start i guess...
tonight was beautiful. i got to the green room late because i stuck around looking at cameras, lenses, and hats online. so many good concerts coming up, i want a film camera and a low fstop lens to take some shots i can believe in. still, i'd rather it all be digital. oh well. and an interesting hat to wear to places i feel like i should be interesting. anyway, the green room. morgan was there when i got there, patrick showed up after a while. we moved into the actual green room, out of the foyer. just the three of us. i guess it was just late cause i think we were all a little bit high. patrick kept finding entertaining passages in this book he was reading... written from some slave's perspective. "an interesting narrative" or something... poor guy just wanted to be called "jacob" but got stuck with "gustavus" instead. morgan fell asleep. before that, none of us could stop laughing at anything. we even had an entire conversation devoted to foreskin. i hope these are the things i remember when i think of wake.
first exam of the year in eight and one-half hours.
it was beautiful walking back to the apartment. i decided to keep the empty bottle of jones soda because the picture on the front was of someone taking film pictures. reminded me of fstop. after patrick dips in efird, i walk on past the chapel alone. i've got the bottle in my hand like a weapon, figured if anyone tried to hold me up, i'd just knock them out. the bottle was thick, a bit harder than i would have imagined. i held it like a bat, practiced bringing it down on thugs' heads in the shadows. i crossed the road towards the boonies. about halfway across, i changed hand positions. i didn't realize it earlier but holding it like a beer bottle, fist over neck, is even better. you can bring the bottom down on someone. it would be absolutely devastating. there's less wrist action involved. i got really excited by all this. i just wanted to destroy somebody, anybody, but there was nobody around. after climbing the stairs towards polo, i stepped forward with my right leg, raising my knee and bringing down the bottle on the fleshy part of my leg above the knee. it hurt good, twitched. i've got a fairly good masochistic streak that comes out sometimes. reminds me of when i cut myself freshman year. good times. i tried it with my left leg, covering my cell phone in my pocked with my left hand. harder. right leg again, left. i can't imagine what it much have looked like to a bystander. someone hopping and spazzing down the walkway, slamming a bottle into his legs. i love it. i had to try it some more when i got back to the apartments. just once more. again and again and again. i changed into basketball shorts inside. red marks all over. la la la lovely.
sleep first.
hello new blog.
goodnight.
has to know the water level.
are you writing from the heart?
are you writing from the heart?"
~sufjan stevens
late night. dark room. headphones in. beautiful.
oh, great intentions. the last blog went sour. it will always hold a special place in my heart, it being where i learned to be a human being and all... time to move on. feel the illinoise. all that jazz.
a couple relatively unimportant things have happened recently. i found out i get to work with monkeys in my internship. i love my boss australian doctor. i bowled eight strikes in a row after a crappy first four frames. got a 213, my best score ever. started the next game with 2 more. that's right. 10. later on, another 208 with 7 straight, not including an assist from goob. i ran farther than i ever have before.
it's been getting beautiful up in here. autumn has finally found its way to the east coast. i always remember the moment, every single year, when the air is first crisp, cool. there's only one. about a week ago, i walked outside one morning and took it in. i love it. the dew on the grass is sticking around much longer, too. i need to go running some more.
i see emily around every now and then. it's nice being able to use names. i see emily kristina around every now and then. once, last week, i had to pee but the bathroom of the suite i was currently drinking in was in use so i thought i'd walk down to meghan's room and use hers. i knocked and, naturally, emily opened the door. i guess i should give her credit for not writing me up for being drunk but seeing as she's a pothead, alchy whore (i really have no right to call her that, but i'm not too worried about it right now), it would have been more than a little hypocritical. i went to the bathroom. they wondered why i didn't stick around but i joked about just using meg for her toilet and left. emily started talking to me again, reading my away messages, making small talk. she sent me a song i can't stop listening to. i don't know if it's because it's a good song or if it's just because it's from her. through some manner of mind-over-matter, i need to numb her down. she's a sensitive spot still, like annie. it's frustrating. annie's a whole different story. she's overreacting.
a couple days ago, i was walking out of reynolda, passed and waved to caroline, and walked up the left side of the quad. right behind emily and some other guy... i don't know why i can't just handle these things. i think i was scared she'd see me and i'd have to pretend some other way that i didn't see her. i cut off at campus grounds and headed back to the apartment a back way. argh. she hasn't tried to speak to me recently. i can't help but feel like i'm being unfair to her. that she just wants to be friends. still, meghan assures me she's in a sketch ditch this semester and i'm not gonna lie - her getting high and going swimming with random guys just isn't attractive to me. i guess that's the key with her and annie both: learning over time (a matter of years for me, apparently) that they aren't the people you love anymore. that will sink in eventually... i hope.
and still there are pretty girls. a cheerleader i kind of know through other friends i've gotten to speak to a couple times this semester. this overtly pretty girl she is friends with. both of them are in both my HES classes this semester, stats and phys. this other girl sits near me sometimes in phys. she's just composed as she could be, obviously intelligent as hell, pretty as well. we've never spoken. one girl in the stats class... my goodness. great body, short brown hair, really an understated kind of girl but really pretty just in that natural way. i think i'm more attracted to people like her. less makeup. less pretentious. maybe i feel like i'd have more of a chance with her. she's intelligent, too. i don't know what i'm expecting. someday it will hit me that i'm never going to get a date with anybody if i never speak to anybody. that looking cool in the back of the room is never going to get her to voluntarily start a conversation with me. it just doesn't work that way. somehow i know that but i just don't... it hasn't completely sunk in yet. not in a way that is going to make me change yet. it's sad, really.
couple of us went to ishi tonight. i ordered sushi for the first time and loved it. didn't eat too much, kept leftovers in the fridge. it's going to be delicious later. austin wore her black square glasses that i love. she seems like a really fun kid. doubt she has any interest in me, though. and anyway, she's short ;) oh fuck, two more. two girls i get mixed up every time i see them. only because they're never together... alli and steph. steph it sounds like is basically pre-engaged to this guy back home. she's still very down to earth and pretty. relaxed. alli is a bit more of a party girl but gorgeous. she's doing that annoying thing on facebook where she's married to one of her girlfriends so i have no idea if she has a boyfriend or not. go figure. at least we are on a speaking basis. that's a start i guess...
tonight was beautiful. i got to the green room late because i stuck around looking at cameras, lenses, and hats online. so many good concerts coming up, i want a film camera and a low fstop lens to take some shots i can believe in. still, i'd rather it all be digital. oh well. and an interesting hat to wear to places i feel like i should be interesting. anyway, the green room. morgan was there when i got there, patrick showed up after a while. we moved into the actual green room, out of the foyer. just the three of us. i guess it was just late cause i think we were all a little bit high. patrick kept finding entertaining passages in this book he was reading... written from some slave's perspective. "an interesting narrative" or something... poor guy just wanted to be called "jacob" but got stuck with "gustavus" instead. morgan fell asleep. before that, none of us could stop laughing at anything. we even had an entire conversation devoted to foreskin. i hope these are the things i remember when i think of wake.
first exam of the year in eight and one-half hours.
it was beautiful walking back to the apartment. i decided to keep the empty bottle of jones soda because the picture on the front was of someone taking film pictures. reminded me of fstop. after patrick dips in efird, i walk on past the chapel alone. i've got the bottle in my hand like a weapon, figured if anyone tried to hold me up, i'd just knock them out. the bottle was thick, a bit harder than i would have imagined. i held it like a bat, practiced bringing it down on thugs' heads in the shadows. i crossed the road towards the boonies. about halfway across, i changed hand positions. i didn't realize it earlier but holding it like a beer bottle, fist over neck, is even better. you can bring the bottom down on someone. it would be absolutely devastating. there's less wrist action involved. i got really excited by all this. i just wanted to destroy somebody, anybody, but there was nobody around. after climbing the stairs towards polo, i stepped forward with my right leg, raising my knee and bringing down the bottle on the fleshy part of my leg above the knee. it hurt good, twitched. i've got a fairly good masochistic streak that comes out sometimes. reminds me of when i cut myself freshman year. good times. i tried it with my left leg, covering my cell phone in my pocked with my left hand. harder. right leg again, left. i can't imagine what it much have looked like to a bystander. someone hopping and spazzing down the walkway, slamming a bottle into his legs. i love it. i had to try it some more when i got back to the apartments. just once more. again and again and again. i changed into basketball shorts inside. red marks all over. la la la lovely.
sleep first.
hello new blog.
goodnight.
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