what if every cd you ever purchased required you to name the tracks yourself. would you have called it “smells like teen spirit” or would it have been like “bla bla garble mosquito.” look up at the night sky, and ask yourself that. you'll see how everything changes.
last night i reread the part of my deadjournal pertaining to relationship with andy. there were a few super happy entries, but it was mostly same old patheticness, and i actually i sound generally unhappy and bitter. so much for relationships making life better? ha. i guess deadjournal isn't usually used for recording a general feeling on contentness, it's more the extremes. a year ago and a week or two was flogging molly. i think i wore my shirt that day without even realizing it.
today i wore a sweater and it turned out to be summer, so i changed clothes. last tuesday i changed my outfit three times. i think i'm just restless, or a big fag. probably both. i was looking through my closet and found a pair of black corduroys that i didn't remember owning. they don't look like they were worn much, and judging from waste size, were purchased about a year ago. when chris and i eventually fight to the death, he will weigh at least 50 pounds and be eight inches in diameter. that's going to be an interesting battle.
ever notice how some of your favorite pictures of you are the ones that don't look like you?
try and act natural for the next twelve seconds.
i met with jojo today. she seems nice. my experiences with jojos of the world are not the best, but we'll see. i never know if i'm over exaggerating, not saying enough, or trying to rationalize stuff in my mind and filter it through. it's feels like i'm talking about someone else. i suppose that makes sense because i never really feel like myself. i've realized my last entry sounds a lot like me explaining dreams, but it's all stuff that happened.
do you realize that happiness makes you cry? do you realize that song lyrics can always take the place of intellegent thought? have you ever noticed hypothetical questions sound deeper than they actually are? why are you here? why are you reading this? do you know me? what is the meaning of sitting on a chair at 3am and contemplating standing? is this air i'm seeing?
haaaah. i'm positively certain i feel a deep connection to you. i feel we should all throw away our identities and our cares and move to canada. less talk, more canuck. perhaps we can take the suicide bus but get off before the last stop. rolling around in our own filth / afraid to touch the dirt / we know is on our own face / shit in my hands / i'll hold my own / and piss on your eyes
sincerely yours, pen-pen