Saturday, August 02, 2003

This blog is rated:

Guidance may be suggested. Some of your writings may not be suitable for some people. Explicit sex and talk of drug use is basically absent; nudity, if present, is shown in a non-sexual way or isnt full nudity, horror and violence does not exceed moderate levels in your writings.

You should be dating a Taurus. 20 April - 20 May This gentle creature is dependable, artistic, and very calm and patient. Though Taurus has the tendency to be self-indulgent, stubborn or materialistic, this bull naturally enjoys a roll in the hay!

Girls with horns make me hoooooot.

Friday, August 01, 2003

This blog works a lot better when you're listening to music.
People say that high school is like a game. If so, the pieces have really shifted around the board. Everyone is now interconnected in completely new ways; social geography is changing and people keep re-emerging as fresh and different than when I last saw them. I don't know if it's just my attitudes changing, but I'm seeing some people in a much different light than at the end of the school year.

Everyone's got someone new. New combinations of the same friends make for very fun and interesting results. I'm sure I'll be pulled into it soon, but for now it's just good to sit back and observe.

Maybe I'm getting more accpeting? Kinder? More generous? I can talk to Bryan for a long, long time now and not have any conflict with him, even internally. Maybe that'll change, but it seems that just not being around everyone I know seven hours a day, five days a week has made me much calmer.

It's all good and well to speculate about these things like this, but when the shit storm begins September, we'll all just regress to our passive-aggressive, selfish other selves. See what this system does to us?
Panic until the last stop before the subway derails into a pack of erudite pelt-wearing strippers scraping gum off the walls and making statuettes of ex presidents. Cherry flavored and dripping through the cracks in the ground to the under, under, underground where homeless and prophets sleep. Friendly rats scuttle through my toes and someone holds a pillow to my mouth. Three shots and they're dead. All of them. All nonsense, of course.

Sunday, July 27, 2003

I can sense it on your breath: you need a cryptic one-liner.

"Trying to find new ways to tether myself to the ground."