It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like .....

my day off!!!!

Yes. It snowed a lot today, which got me to thinking that nobody in their right minds would come into the shop. So, I called in and asked if I could just kick it at home today. And my wish was granted.

So now, I expect I'll go to the G and get drunk on tequila with Dave. Probably draw some lady tribal, eat some chips and play Super Smash Bros. Aw hells yeah.

I started making a zine. I think when it's done, I'll post it. Rather than waste a bunch of money on printing it, when nobody is actually going to read it -- I will enslave the internet for my own purposes.

I was supposed to accompany Mogli somewhere. But she left.

Beebz just came in. He has crazy carpets.

Holyshit.

All Alone

Ain't nobody home.

Well, I am. And Beer Slaw is passed out on the couch, so he's also technically home. But it's pretty quiet.

It's also after midnight. I had planned to paint for a while, but now I'm doing this. Hmm.

It appears as though motivation/inspiration has finally struck. I'm stoked.

I had a dry spell of a number of months, so finally feeling like creating shit is awesome. I've painted, I've been drawing almost every day. These things are good.

Also, with the re-introduction of the mighty ganja into my life, I've been baking up a storm, this is also good. Gotta keep the room mates fed.

Beast is getting fixed soon. She has fleas, though. That shit sucks. Especially since I've already treated her for them and she got them again....

I went to Outcast today, had a chat with Chris, concerning the future of the shop and my involvement with it. I expect to go back there soon. I've spent too much time frigging around, I might as well get back to work. Can't run a tattoo shop if I'm not there.

And so, my career presses forward. Amen to that.

I Went On An Adventure

And I am glad to be home, but wish I never came back.

Which is conflicting, but then again, most things involving me are.

I quit smoking for 2 hours in PEI. But then I started again. I tried again today. Fail, but I'm trying to be optimistic?

Instead of buying cigarettes today, I spent 12$ on making a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. Which is now pretty much gone. But it was something to do. I can't help but feel like I could have found something cheaper to do, though.

Today is also Thanksgiving. I am giving thanks for having some really awesome friends, and some kinda shitty ones, and for strangers who are nice -- even when there's no reason for them to be. I think I give more thanks for them than I do for the friends.

Later I will trace my hand and make it into a turkey and write that on it, then tape it to the fridge. Except I will never actually do that. I'm just saying that because it entertains me...

Beebz has acquired a keyboard or something similar, and he is constantly serenading us with it's music. It's not so bad, except I jacked the stereo out of the kitchen because nobody was using it, and it was just taking up space. So I could listen to music that I want to listen to, it's just that I feel it's rude to listen to recorded music when there's already someone providing it. And Shay is also listening to music as well.

Ronny came for a visit today.

I am just prepping him for the day when I finally stuff him into a backpack and run away to Truro. We will eat chicken carcasses together and listen to Regina Spektor. And live behind Giant Tiger in an old shipping container.

At night, we will stroll to the statue of the terrifying figure with an organ and dance and sing our own words to Culture Club hits -- because our lives will be so unbelievably inhuman that we'd need to make our own words.... because none of the songs would make sense to us.

We will collect reflective tape off of traffic signs and stranger's bicycles by cover of darkness, and eventually, after our teeth fall out and our clothes rot off we can cover ourselves in them and dart in and out of the woods, frightening the people and be forever remembered as ominous guardians of the night.

It would make a fantastic bedtime story for the children of Truro. And only the smart ones would ask why a cat was wearing clothes. And only the smart parents would know he sometimes wears a bowtie.

In the Pursuit of Potassium

Last night we watched Pirates XXX as a house activity. It's strange how in the span of two hours you can forget that you're watching real people getting it on while being videotaped with your roommates. It was an all right time.

I think I am becoming depressed again. Probably the worst thing ever to possibly happen.
Today felt like the worst day I've had in a long time. I feel distant and unable to connect with anyone. And I feel like the people I'm surrounded with are friends with me more on a superficial level than anything. And they don't actually care one way or the other that I exist. Or that I'm happy.

I applied for assistance today. I had to go to the Arc. Which I didn't like. Everyone there is fake. And it scares me.

I've been thinking on a fucked level. About people and their motives, and why anyone does anything. And that's also scary too. Especially having realizations about that sort of thing.

Shay wants their computer back.

Tour of Doody

I think that title takes the cakes as the corniest pun I've ever come up with.

It's about Beast. And how she has a penchant for shitting a lot.

It has become a losing battle against maintaining a level of stasis in my room, where it doesn't reek of stewed death. I have inherited the sickness of Shay, and it has made it so I can no longer smell anything. So it's all right for me, but not so all right for everyone else at Skeletech...

It seems that my daily to-do list (like I actually make a list...) has been reduced to either a) clean cat box, b) buy cat litter or c) find some way to make money to buy cat litter.

BUT! By miracle of the ....magnets... Shay has just accosted me to cut their hair today. So that puts one more thing on my list. Which means it might actually qualify as a list. Which, in turn, means that I'm a real person after all.

Praise the lawd.

CAT LITTER, HO!

We're Out of Margarine....

the Honeymoon is over.

Haha. Yep. I'm sitting at the house, wasting away.

We were supposed to go to PEI today, but the weather is expected to be shitty, so the plan was scrapped in favour of sitting around more.

And by sitting around, I mean, that I'm blogging for the next ten minutes, and then I'm going to leave this place. And never come back.

Or just go visit the G for the first time in like, 23 hours and see if I can't find my cat under the wood pile. And have coffee with Dave.

Apparently the G is going under a lot of stress these days, probably due to the fact that they have no events coordinator. Which is me. And the passive-agressive ruling class (Dave) is now left to fumble at odds with the nature of the house. Which is messy, and lawless. And he has no buffer for directing the populace. (I am also head of Artists and Repertoire and Public Relations.) I think I should go and consult him, and from there, we should schedule a) a press conference and b) additional signage for the bathroom and kitchen. Perhaps a new campaign concerning the CatRev. Haha....

I got a sweet elbow tattoo. I'm quite pleased with it. THX2MAWGLI.

Taylor is a rock n' roll cobra, and he had a sweet pearl earring. So I said so, and he let me have the other one. So now I look like Pete Burns.

Also, this is my horoscope for today:

"buying your clothes a few sizes too small isn't the answer -- what kind of incentive is that? You'll just have a bunch of outfits that don't fit, you fat ass. If you really want to make a dent in that blubber, move more and eat less. It's that simple."

HAHAHAHAHA. Who writes these things? Certainly they are on the payroll of the Patriarchy. Jesus H. Christ....

People of the world. Don't make dents in your blubber, unless you're creating a pocket to store something that makes you happy.

Hangover Day

hangover day is sliced at irregular intervals with butt smokes, coffee or tea, snail party, feather and thinking about my lost cat.

which makes it just like every other day, save the lost cat and the fact that it's all punctuated by curiously feeling like shit, despite taking all actions to prevent said feeling.

the house has been named. skeletech. like skeletons who run a call center. we all need to get id badges. on lanyards. and peel all the meat off our stupid bones and be skeletons. it'd be easier. and vegan.

yesterday i found a green one that someone threw out with the garbage. i was delighted. after conference with mogli, it was decided that money found in a most punk way must be spent as such. with no regard for personal integrity or financial obligations.

REAL SMOKES! and four Faxe10. and the satisfaction of finding a green one permeating the entire experience. i think i laughed too hard and for too long, and that's why i felt this morning that i had been stricken with a case of dysentery. or something equally unpleasant...

however, the facts still stand:

i woke up sleeping on two cushions from the couch on my floor with three loaves of french bread and some bagels. one half of a cure poster, a pocket full of butts and a zine about someone's trip to moncton and a booklet on sexuality intended for male-bodied persons. and a jar of peanut butter that was inscribed with a fountain pen in typeface not unlike the one featured in "Shakespeare in Love" which read:

Dear The Flood House,

I Stole your mo' fuckin' Peanut Butter.

For this I am Sorry.

-Rachelle

P.S. I am keeping this.

in other words, GREAT SUCCESS!

DISASTERPIECE THEATRE!

Stuck in my head. Haha.

Went swimming today. Partied last night for Darcie. She's leaving the G, to move to Yarmouth.
Kind of like David Copperfield. A book which I hadn't the pleasure of reading until quite recently....

Spinning a Colt with Dave and Katie and Sarah.
My sunburn is peeling like a motherbitch.

And summer is almost over.
I am on the cusp of a major life shift, and for once, I'm glad about it.

I SAY "EXCELLENT" WAY TOO MUCH.

Ain't that the truth.

As long as I'm not saying "awesome" though, I think I'll do all right.


I saw a film earlier. It was intended for children, and was in 3D. But I didn't complain because there are lots of children in Africa and elsewhere who never get to see such films. I found it quite entertaining, after I got over the shock of how dizzy one feels after removing the glasses and trying to go to the bathroom mid-film.

I've seen a 3D movie before, but only ones about animals. And they were definitely not as fast paced. A 3D movie about animals is "mesmerizing", whereas a 3D film intended for the brains of children is more like being pelted with shrapnel from a battlefield. With jokes thrown in. And a healthy dose of heartwarming goodness?

Whatever. I got a pretzel. The sauce that came with it was disgusting.

I can't wait to get back to Halifax. Should be something exciting going on there.
I can't believe I found that much to write about....

the Mad Skrill

Yes. I am rolling in it.
And it's a very good thing to have.

I also have supper. Which is excellent.
And I am listening to the Smiths. Which is also excellent, although I doubt Morrissey would approve of my meal. Which is comprised primarily of pork.

THE DEVIL WILL FIND WORK FOR IDLE HANDS TO DO.

And did she ever. I think I had the idlest hands that ever existed. But now I feel as though I've accomplished something. So that makes me glad.

Tonight, I will make a journey to New Glasgow. I'm not sure what for, but I am meeting up with my dear friend Roger, and we will go gallivanting. Maybe I'll buy socks. Or a flea collar for Beast. And maybe the flea bath too. Who knows. I just can't have my cat having fleas.

Last night, I went to the Pub, with a plastered Ashleigh in tow. (For old times sake??) The Pub is the only place to go in Antigonish. Seriously. I have to say, it was not my scene. I was accosted for most of the evening by an old man who was keen on expressing to me his love of "women's sports". I think, based on my haircut, he assumed that I was also into "women's sports". I, sadly, am not.

In fact, I could care less. I think sports are for everyone. Everyone except me. And eventually it'll get to a point where there won't be "women's sports" and "men's sports". But I couldn't get into that, because he was old, and surely it would explode his drunken head.

I also paid a visit to the new pizza place in Antigonish. Kenny's. After hearing about Kenny from several different people, without making the connection that he was in fact a restaurant, and not an actual person, I sampled his wares. Needless to say, he did not live up to the hype.

And the lady behind the cash register wasn't so much pleased when I addressed her as Kenny.

But it is no matter. I'm going to watch TV. Not because I want to, but because I've already done everything else there is to do in this house. And the piano has too many dead keys to play anything except Tears for Fears. And I think I'll not do that.

Oh my.

Just realized my last blog consisted entirely of a half nekkid Morrissey video, and was entitled "STUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID". I think I've lost a few IQ points. Probably all the Drice.

I'm in Antigonish. Avoiding my life. It's awesome.
And necessary. But fer dang sure, it hurts.

After all, the longer you stay away from anything that means something to you, the less often it happens. And the safer you are.

You also become miserable and somewhat like a robot. But that is beside the point.

I don't know why I do anything. So I'm not really that surprised when nobody cares.

Dang skippy.
So far today, I have made 120$. It's all right.
If money could buy happiness, then I wouldn't be so shitty.

I'm going to go outside now. Because although money cannot buy happiness, it can buy cigarettes. And a walk to the store is something I wouldn't say no to.

STUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID

Last Night

was ridiculous.

I became drunker than what is socially acceptable. And I had an excellent time.

Tonight, we have crafted an excellent fire pit in our backyard with the advice of the fire chief that spawned Mogli. For the first time in a while, we are certain we are not breaking the law.

BREAKING THE LAW, BREAKING THE LAW.

living above the law?

And we have marshmallows. And a tent set up outside. And copious amounts of whiskey. I swore on New Years with Sarah that there would be (and I quote) "no more whiskey, no more wine". And to this day I have kept my word. But I think that I may have to sample Katie Chisholm's Fireball. For old time's sake....

I fell asleep at Reflections earlier this week. It was probably the shittiest. I don't know why I was so tired, or so cold. But I was, and ended up just passing right out. And then got kicked out for sleeping, despite the fact I maintained that I was sober. Combined with the fact that I also had sideburns and caterpillar eyebrows and a fuckin' bro-hawk, I was quite embarrassed. Being mocked by a bro on a stupid-ass power trip while dressed as one was a humbling experience....

I hate bouncers. They should all just go right to hell. And who is in charge of hiring the bouncers for Reflections?

Eugh.

I Slept for 12 Hours.

And I woke up and I don't feel half as decent as I did when I went to sleep.

The fools outside are once again screaming "songs" from their big, bougy yard. I wonder how long they'll do that before they whip out their giant inflatable water slide?

I need to go get a job. And like, do something. Because I am just too bored these days. I have lost all traces of inspiration, I don't feel like tattooing anything. So I think it is necessary to go and do something that I hate for a while, and then maybe I'll feel good about going back to something I love. One can only hope.

APPOLONIAAAAA!!!!!

I'm stupid. And I don't know why.

I'm listening to stupid Prince songs. You know, from Purple Rain. That shit is wicked, I don't care what anyone says. Prince is an excellent musician. And an excellent role model. For people like me who are too weird to say what's necessary, and maybe have too much on their plate and are a little short and just want to wear a fancy jacket and boots. And maybe tour around on a motorcycle and trick pretty ladies into jumping into lakes for no reason....

THAT AIN'T LAKE MINNETONKA!

(Oh, Prince, you sly coot, you.)

I am uncertain what to do at this point. All signs point to "do something!", but I think, as per usual, I will find this challenging. However, the worst that can happen can't be any worse than what already is. So it can't hurt.

Lucy is finished downloading! I shall go now and watch it, and then, hopefully retire to my quarters for another sticky boring night of sleeping alone with The Empire Strikes Back and Captain Jack Sparrow.....

Beastsong

Beast is at it again. Singing away.
I think she needs to do a split with Bitchez Delicious.
Speaking of, they are the greatest band in the world, and they are probably going to actually do something soon. I am excited.

I'ma buy they record. When it come out.

Dave and Katie went to Tim Hortons, but when they return, we are going to watch I LOVE LUCY again. And I am very pleased.

I recently got a cell phone, and I am uncharacteristically excited about technology. It's probably because I have nothing else to be that excited about.

Except Bitchez Delicious. And they record. When it come out.

I have to go do the stupid study at Dalhousie today. And get drunk and smoke the old tobacky with an English fellow named Milad who knows everyone I know, but whom I had not met until the survey. How about that...

John has appeared on the threshold, so I will talk to him now instead of talking to the Internet.

G'on git.

Lucy Lucy Lucy

Dave downloaded a shit ton of I Love Lucy. And I am stoked, because I love Lucy.
And I love I Love Lucy.

Haha.

Sam made alfredo earlier, and I was glad because he gave me some of it. And he left a hilarious note for Beer Slaw in which he describes Beer Slaw as a "sex rocket". It makes me laugh every time I see it...

Liz came to visit again today, and that is very good, because she hadn't been visiting us since she moved to the Tool Shed. Hopefully, Sam #1 will come visit soon, once he's back from wherever he went on a train -- then Moon Unit will be together once more, in their rightful place, on the couch at the G.

My "sweet banjo skills" are still not as sweet as I'd like. Beer Slaw is supposed to remedy this soon. I can only hope that by writing this here, I will somehow remember to pester him when he comes back home.

Joanne and John, the crazy travelers have appeared in a blog on the Interweb. They eloped to PEI, and we hadn't heard from them since they left, so it's good to know they're not dead. And Joanne's banjo is still in one piece....

There is house drama, but I think it's entirely possible for me to stay out of it, if I just keep to my room. I've almost run out of reading material, however. Perhaps I'll find some sort of occupation outside of the house, and I'll be able to avoid said drama. One can only hope.

I have stuff to draw, which I should do soon. I think I have artist's block. I almost got out of it, but then events occurred, which caused me to lose inspiration once more. Goddamn.

I think it's time for me to go outside. And maybe water Katie's plants or something. It just rained, but it's nice to be useful sometimes. Even if it's just feeling useful, and not actually being it.

Today Is the Zombie Walk.

And I have spent the better half of my morning preparing disgusting wounds. I am covered in liquid latex, stink like a rotting fish, and both my legs are asleep.

And nobody has shown up at my door in need of my services.

Well, shit.

What am I gonna do now?

I work best whilst under pressure, and currently, there is no pressure, and no work, really.
I must say, this is an unfortunate circumstance.

Even Dave doesn't want to go. So it's just me.
Goddamn.

I guess I will be a lone zombie today.
It's just me and the persistent desire for brains.

the question is....

should i be waiting?

are these things all niceties and refined methods of smoothing things over?
should i take what i hear at face value, or stew in question of reality?

am i stupid for letting others dictate what exactly constitutes my experience?
am i at a disadvantage for even considering this?

a cat is licking my beer.

i am torn between hope and settling for what my brain tells me is truth.
and i am also drunk and full up of poetic uselessness.

and with the rain, the heart wave broke.

someone i know mis-typed heat wave. and put heart wave instead. i thought it was interesting, to say the least.

i'm drinking a tankard of coffee, and mulling over my life. and i must say, it's all right.

i feel like going fishing. i don't even like to actually catch the fish... but it's fun to go sit near a lake and feel like you're doing something. sometimes with a friend who you can talk to, but sometimes not.

sometimes the best friend to talk to is yourself. at least, if you're me. i think i spend so much time talking to other people about nothing, that i forget to talk to myself about something. or anything.

i don't know what "monetize" means.

What In The Fuck

It's morning after shit storm on this island.
If I wasn't so dang irresponsible, perhaps I wouldn't have lost the keys to the lighthouse.
And I wouldn't have had to sleep outside last night on the rocks, surrounded by stupid jaguars.

The options are: a) find the keys.
b) leave the island.
or c) go back to Cafe Dave where I'd normally be, instead of here.

I'mmmm Meeeellllttttinngggggg!

Or close to it. It's so hot.

Me and Dave went to Propeller and got so much BEERZ.
And I didn't visit Ryley, but I don't know why, because I wanted to and then I didn't.
I think I am just a weird person. I should probably work on that.

I got a midnight visit last night from two other weirdoes that I know who were on acid. And a call from Sarah. Much to my delight.

I can't get stupid Moonlight Desires out of my head. It's probably the stupidest thing to happen to me since I said "STUPIDEST" in a sentence. Which was just now. In case you didn't realize.

Well, I officially have a project to work on, so maybe I should be doing that now instead of being on here. And drinking IPA out of a McDonald's cup because Dave got me a drink at McDonald's.

This is the worst blog ever.

The End Approaches!

I think I am almost done being sick. And for that, I am glad.

The cats are in heat, and so, are at war once again. Becky and Beast fight every time they see each other, and that kind of sucks. I expect the only answer is to get Beast fixed. Apparently, in the city, it costs like, 200$. Which is insane. In Antigonish, it's like, 75$.

The original plan was to take her home and get her fixed there, but now she has a boyfriend (a giant black and white cat that lives up the street) and the fact that she's getting the shit kicked out of her on the daily by Becky, means that it'll probably have to happen sooner than later. And cost double the amount I was hoping to pay.... However, paying 200$ definitely beats following my cat around like a parole officer, fighting off rapist boyfriends and crazy Becky.

It must be customer appreciation day today at Cafe Dave. Not only do you get coffee, but you get ice cream in it. Fantastic. Not exactly healthy, but hey, when you eat out of the garbage most days, health goes by the wayside in favour of deliciousness.

The couches are all filled up. When I woke up this morning, there were some feet sticking out of Sarah's bed. I stared at the feet for like, ever, trying to figure out who it was. And since there were no identifying marks, I couldn't figure it out. So I just got up and left. Turns out it was Clohe. Hahaha. From now on, I will be pushing feet tattoos. As a means of identification when friends are sleeping.

Got a phone call this morning from one of my friends. They were like, "Thanks for being a good friend." So I was like, "Thank you." What does it mean when your friend calls you to tell you that? I always try and be a good friend, but seldom does anyone actually thank me for it. It was weird enough to warrant me thinking that perhaps I was not being a good enough friend, and that maybe them saying that to me was their way of calling me out? The only thing that can be done in such a situation, I think, is to make even more of an effort to be a good friend.

Goddamn. There must be fleas in the G. I am getting bitten. Curiously enough, just on one arm. Today I will make flea collars happen. And probably force everyone in the house to help me search and destroy. There will be no repeat of last year.

Beast is growling. This is getting out of control.

It Is Morning.

I am in Cafe Dave.

Katie Chisholm is transplanting some vegetables, which we hope we can use to bribe Mr. Kim into forgiving us for locking him out and generally being shitheads. It's hard to say if it will work. But that guy likes vegetables, and he likes Katie, so hopefully the plot will equal success.

In the dead of night, a mysterious traveller appeared on the threshold of the G. Led by Spoon, who, curiously enough, did not explain where she found him. He is asleep in the tattoo studio right now.

Which might have been a bad thing, except for the fact that my first appointment canceled for today. Lame. I was going to finance Katie Chisholm's accordion. And now I can't. Gragh.

Does it make sense to blog first thing in the morning? I don't really know. There's not really a whole lot going on, other than kittens ripping down the curtains in Cafe Dave, much to the proprietor's dislike.

Today on the menu, we have Iced Coffee without the Ice. And Racist Coffee, which my dear mother purchased from Giant Tiger roughly one fortnight ago.

Both are a unique taste experience, but only one will change the way you think about things.

Now I only have one tattoo appointment today. What a bummer. I should be charging for people to cancel their appointments. For serious. People be doing that waaaaay too often (much to the proprietor's dislike!!)

Beast has been singing all morning. I think she has been snorting crack.
Goddamn kids these days. No respect.

This is pure unadulterated insanity. I think it's best if I just leave.
This is why people don't blog in the morning.

-fin-

So, I Went Back And Read

a lot of my old writings. Specifically, diaries and journals, and also some of my other blogs. Spanning from now back until about mid-2006. The most striking part of all of it, is that I often felt all of the things that I had written for the public were terrible, and non-representative of who I am as a person. But the things I wrote for nobody else to read but me, were all right.

It's almost comical for me to realize the disparity between how I felt in highschool (exhibit A: journals), and the image I projected to the public (exhibit B: numerous stupid blogs with supplementary instant messages). I wonder why I bothered, and I wonder if they all saw through it anyway? As they say, Hindsight 20/20 -- that shit was SARAN WRAP.

It's like, 10 pm now. There are kittens fucking with me. Dave and Katie are laughing about something. Someone's cell phone is dying.

We made root beer earlier, and it didn't suck.
Imagine that.

This Place Is Grate.

I want to go find a grate somewhere and spraypaint that above it.

Just so when people walk by, they might laugh at it.

Mr. Kim attempted to rear his scary head today. I locked the doors and we hid in silence for a good hour, waiting for him to go away. Then Dave came home and was like, "Did you guys lock Mr. Kim out?" And it was true, we did. And it dawned on me that living in fear of your former landlord is particularly silly. Because technically, I don't even live here anymore, so there's nothing he can say to me....

So next time, I'll probably let him in.

I've decided that by the fall, I'm moving out of this house and into something else. I don't know where yet, but hopefully somewhere good. I don't know if I want roommates or not. I tried to get Dave on the bandwagon, but I think he just wants to move back to Moncton. No idea why, but to each their own, I guess.

Today, one of the people staying with us purchased a 90-year old antique banjo from a man who really loves banjoes. The man came to our house in the morning, and he played some songs for us and told us about the history of the banjo, how he got it, and why he was selling it. He loved it, but he had too many, and he wanted it to go to someone who would play it and also love it.

The person who bought it, threw the money down for it, around 200$, which was a ridiculous deal for an antique, fully-functioning instrument, with the original (irreplaceable) skin head, then proceeded to pack a bag and hitch-hike to Cape Breton. With no case.

Needless to say, the entire house collectively vomited.

Maybe there is something romantic about doing something like that, but I can't say I understand it. And she didn't check the weather. And she also does not know how to play the banjo.

We expressed these concerns to her, and she didn't take them well. Basically, just got pissed and stomped out, claiming that we talk to her like we think she is an idiot.

Quite frankly, such behaviours can only warrant the title of Idiot.

Fucka You, Jacob Lekas!

I got a new bicycle, and it is fuckin' sweet. And it was free.
And I'm not even lying.

We got it out of a dumpster in Bayer's Lake. We originally went up there to see if we could get some pants out of the Mark's dumpster, but by chance, decided to look in the Sport Chek one. And lo and behold, BICYCLES! Needless to say, I almost died right on the spot.

But I didn't have time to die, because we had to get that shit out of there A-SAP, so we wouldn't get arrested for stealing stuff people were already throwing away. Doesn't make much sense to me, but cops are shitheads, and I guess they don't want people to get free bikes, or have any fun, for that matter.....

But I am having so much fun. They can't even stop me now! HAAHAHAHA!

Shit, I am just losing it. It needs a new chain, and I have to paint it because it looks dumb as fuck. (Has flowers and stupid color scheme.) But it is serious business. So so serious.

Jacob Lekas now has nothing over me. He may have taken my bike and my mittens, but I have a new one now, and it's summer -- so mittens are useless anyway.

Victory is mine!!!

Also, someone who was hating my guts for a long time, but I was incessantly trying to befriend, finally decided to apologize for treating me like garbage. I am ecstatic. I suppose there's some sort of metaphor or something with that.

It's like dumpstering. You think trash is trash, and it's worthless, but then maybe you realize there's fucking GOLD in there. I think that is what may have happened between me and said person. (Not to toot my own horn or anything, saying I'm gold and whatnot...)

I am very happy. And I'm going to sleep.
Goodnight Earth, you have been a cool place to be today.

I Often Say,

"Sleep when you're dead. "
But right now, I think it's a pretty good idea, just curiously unattainable.

It's midnight. And I'm restless and I feel like I'm not getting anywhere with anything.
And being awake obviously is only going to contribute to the problem....

Yet here I sit. Or flop, really. Because flopping is what I'm doing.
I tried going in the shower to see if it would help, but it didn't. Our tub is fucked now, so every time you go in there, the water just collects in the tub until it reaches over your ankles. And then you have to take the grey water out of the tub with a bucket when you're done.

It's really not a relaxing experience. It's more like seeing how long you can stand in there, while contemplating how long it'll take to get all the water out afterwards, and determining exactly how long you want the frigging charade to go on....

Then you get to dump all the water out. It makes me think of peasants, naked in the kitchen in a washtub for their monthly bath, or something. It's good sometimes to feel like a peasant. It keeps you humble. At least, it keeps me humble.... And I can't complain too much, seeing as I don't have to boil the water on a fire or stove before even putting it in the tub.

Oh, modern conventions. You both aggravate and enthrall me. I have to say, if I had to boil my own bath water on our stove, it would take all day.... I'd probably go outside and roll in some dust instead. In the style of a peccary.

Hm.

I wish I was as pleasantly surprised by myself, as I often find I am with others. And I wish I could forcibly learn the method of expressing to others how that makes me feel, exactly. How come other people seem to know how to do this? I am hesitant to put myself out there, because I never really have, and since I never have, I'm not very good at it. And tend to say things that get misconstrued. And I always tend to let people draw their own conclusions, which are usually false, and everything ends up fucked -- and I just live with it. I think I've been so wrapped up in the "Wait and see what happens!" mentality, that I often wait too much and forget to participate.

Why am I so weird? Is the first step to dealing with this issue, identifying it? Is this Socially Inept Idiots Anonymous? Should we meet here every week?

I feel like over the winter months, I was a bit more stable. I wasn't as cheerful, but I think I was generally doing okay, more so than now. It's hard for me to say whether it has to do with goings-on in my personal life, whether I'm just like this always (it doesn't ever seem that way, but maybe I just don't know myself well enough?) or the weather, drinking, or hormones, my diet, or the recurring devil Depression....

I had to stop smoking weed. It was starting to freak me out. Where it used to be something that usually made me feel better, now it just makes me anxious and paranoid. Makes me feel like I'm wasting my life away. Maybe the cessation of sedating myself constantly is adding to the mental stress load? Now that I'm thinking more clearly, perhaps I'm spending too much time thinking about things -- exacerbating the problems, which aren't even really that problematic?

I'm going to label this post "scooters, vacation, fall" and nobody can stop me.
I'm done with the internet. At least for now.

Every Day is Like Sunday

And today is sunday. And it's pretty fuckin' awful.
Call me negative, but man, I haven't done anything all day.

People are pissing me off, as per usual.
I feel alone, even though I'm fucking swimming in people, always.
I guess I should chalk it up to being hungover, mentally distressed and coming down with a cold. Ugh.

I think I've gotten myself into a place where I don't want to be. It's not fair when you're supposed to be happy, and all you feel like doing is crying. I feel like I'm a stupid back-up plan, and that's probably the worst feeling in the world. At least, the worst one that I know of.

Feeling sorry for yourself never helps anything though.

I'm Pissed.

Because my old blog disappeared.
Because my house is full of people and I'd rather just be asleep right now.
Because people be ragging on me to use my computer.

I didn't even have a computer until a number of weeks ago. Now I know how annoyed everyone else must have been when I asked to use theirs. On one hand, I'm glad to have my own, so I'm not bothering anybody -- on the other hand, I'm pissed because now people are bothering me.

However, a little bothering never killed anyone. And I doubt it'll kill me.

I failed at quitting smoking. Now every time I smoke, I feel as though I'm wasting time. I don't know if that's good or bad. Obviously, I'd still like to quit smoking, and resenting cigarettes is a step in the right direction, but I'm pretty much a spaz as it is, I don't know if I need one more thing to worry about.

Worry. That is a subject I know too much of, as of late. The haunting question of what will happen.... is pretty shitty. (Just when you thought I was going to get seriously wordy, I whip out "shitty". High-five to my salty speech.)

I'm supposed to be drinking the Dr'ice and talking to guests. Instead, here I sit. I raked in the dollars today. I feel as though my day is over, hence wanting to hide away from the public that constantly pervades my living space. I love you guys, but dang. Y'all don't know when to stop pouring in.

It's not their fault though. They all come separately, for different reasons, it just ends up that there's an interesting mix after time, and they all want to talk to each other. We are just required to stay and make sure shit doesn't get outta control. Blah.

I don't know why I'm writing this. It's not for any particular reason.

On Myspace, people read my blogs, apparently. But I think I am sick of writing for that audience. I think at this point in my life, I should be writing for myself. Yes! the internet: home of the selfish bastards!

All of us are. Selfish bastards. That's the whole gimmick about blogs.
I think I'll go now.