May 12th, 2002

HTOC

Alone We Drive

Today.

Sucked the life out of me.

I did some good things though.

I had band practice. I play the guitfiddle. Guit guit guity.

Picked up Songwriter mag! With James Taylor. Huzzah! Front page! Articles. Why is he so amazing?

Went to Sharis with Carlee, Shawn, and Chelsea. Good times had by all....maybe? Had by me at least. And Shawn.

He's such a great guy. We're gonna get together and smoke cigars to celebrate our 18ness.

It won't happen. But for a moment there was such joy as we planned it.

I don't like smoking cigars for the smoking, I like it cause it makes me feel cool with a cigar in my hand.

I wrote some stuff today, to put onto this thing. But it's in my car.

I got a freaking aye new key chain. It has a light on it. God Bless PGE, the distributor of his power.

I will not put the tally up tonight. I am too tired to cut and/or paste.
  • Current Music
    62 Comet Summer and Viagravated
HTOC

Porque

Well today was long.


Falling like snow on the cedars when winter comes and families go east for the cold, south for the warmth, and to bars filled with little drinks with little glasses holding little umbrellas-cute as a cat rolling on the floor thinking cat thoughts with a meow meow and a catnip garfield strip in the sunday paper 'cause the front page says people are dying like the hope of the hungry as they look at the tv and see ads for food made in third world countries by kids without shoes that are brainstormed in offices by big men in suits and ties living on the edge of bankruptcy and a stockmarket stocked shelves on aisle 18 with the chewing gum and the tabloids saying this star is falling and this star is queer like a black sheep in a flock of seagulls and you wonder if sheep can fly but you know they can't and you hear the radio with songs of love about people who don't exist with melodies you'll soon forget as you wander through the halls of old folks homes, watching people get ready to die because life has portrayed them as finished like a paper you turned in at college that took seven days to write about theories that'll be proved wrong and you'll wash your hands of it all with a soap that's so white like falling snow on the cedars when winter comes and families go east for the cold, south for the warmth, and to bars filled with little drinks with little glasses holding umbrellas.
  • Current Music
    Arthur