solipsistry.
I, perhaps, am the master?
cogito ergo, I don't care about you.
not really, of course.

I sure feel like it though.


Lesson in Philly tomorrow.

I hope she doesn't tear me apart.
I think I can hang with Ruth for at least a little bit.
I wish I didn't have fucking rehearsal when I get back.
I wonder how pissed Mrs. Riley is gonna be when she finds out I may miss both practices on the week of championships.



You can't draw the mind.

that's what he said.


i feel i should try.



though, I probably will get preoccupied.




I should leave it to the people who can actually draw anyway.





at somepoint I'll have to go back to school.

it seems like that isn't even real.

I still need to write my college essays

or i could just not go to college and move to a city and sit on the corner and panhandle like a madman.

i suck at quasi-stream of consciousness.

1060-350

that is how much we outscored people by at scholastic scrimmage. lol. I feel so lame for being pumped about that, yet we dominated so utterly that it's hard not to be. I might get 1000 bucks out of the thing too, so that's pretty badass.

92.25

man, after six fucking years I'm finally gonna win this shit.

It's pretty sick, i kind of don't really care though.

oh and apparently there might be a spot at Curtis? interesting.


things are looking slightly less sucky.

there should be two weeks notices for breakups so you can have enough time to buy drugs

The deliciously foul, brown liquids and
swirly tubes, filled with sweet choking fumes of
not thinking it, have been depleted.

Without the two biggest
guns in the arsenal
how can i protect
from the battering
rams of solitude,
aiming their butts at me.

I try in pitiful banality,
to hide beneath my sheets.
The cold of the ice
sculpture statue, nice
woman shadow. It
is under the sheets.
with me. I can not hide
from something in the
misshapen, oddly
crossed paths of the
neurons or whatever
makes my brain tick in
it's eccentric, yet
I hope is slightly
charming, kind of helix.

Couldn't you have at least
cheated on me, so I
could melt the ice with the
fire of my all to quick
to surface anger? heh.

Then I could listen
to shitty emo.
Bask in my over-
reacted, affluent,
teenage, (although I
guess I'm, getting a
little too old for
that shit) angst.

I know, as well as anybody else
who read this, faux-cathartic piece of shit.
I should just deal with it. summer romance
or whatever, at least I braced for it.

hmm, so

A) i don't have mono.

the doctors were just wrong.

B) my band is kicking a whole lot of ass right now.

first place and we whomped pittston by 2.4 at their home show

C) i am now single.


for some reason i had this idea that when my wristband fell off katy was gonna dump me but i guess she doesn't have the flair for the overly apropos that I do, as the battered, still kind of green ring retains it's position on my right wrist.




D) strike tomorrow.

i thought i might go down to philly, but now that most likely won't happen.


i still need to take some lessons with Carol though, so maybe.

so i pretty much have mono.



that's pretty kickass right?



i also sound like a fifth grader on my tuba.



fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuc kfuck fuc kfuc kfuc kfuc kfu ckfu ckfu ckfu ckfu ckfu c kfuc kfuc kfuc kfuc kfuc kfuc kfu ckfu ckfu ckfu ckfu ckfu ckf uck fu ckfu ckf uckf c kfu c kf uckfu ckfuc kfu ckfu ckfu ck

WORST DAY EVER.


man, lit test, finished late, couldn't go to phil. class, go to pick up my mom, ticket, in the rock cut, where else, 183 fucking dollars????????? fuck the police coming straight from the underground.

car battery dies, 102 fucking fever. man.



fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.


normally mondays suck, espcially after awesome weekends, but this is a tad much eh?



i would like to point out that the bus station in Wilkes-Barre was so much sketchier than the one in philly.