Born in the mud isn’t the same as hiding in the trees.
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Saturday:
Food and love do not always go hand in hand.
I have an ego the size of Milwaukee.
I have three blind men strapped to my back so I’m never alone as I head down that crazy road we like to call the Los Angeles freeway system.
I am indeed more interesting in writing than anyone else I know.
I have more toes than a three-toed mule.
And nothing makes me prouder.
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Friday:
The worst part is that my ego has no basis in reality. Well, not the Queen’s reality, anyway. But who cares about that?
We each make up our own story. Some of us just tell ours better.
We all got together to look at the warehouse place.
There is some hesitation but some definite excitement.
But is it really the best choice for us?
It’s a big step.
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Wednesday:
Cars and people.
People let their cars go to their head.
People use their cars as a crutch in a social situation.
I even find myself wanting a cool car. I just do. Darnit.
The intoxicating mental presence of that beauteous girl that you were unable to talk to weighs heavy on your heart right around this ridiculous holiday.
It makes you wonder why you don’t have someone to share the ridiculous day with. It makes you question all the reasons you’ve given yourself. It makes you wonder if maybe all those other silly people are right.
Happy V Day.
(late, sorry)
(I’m slow lately).
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Tuesday:
bop she bops.
oh how she bops.
and she rolls.
she rolls her eyes when you walk up and tell her your name. she glares at you and her eyes ask you why you deserve any attention from her at all. And you smile and you laugh, and you reach up and grasp her earlobe between your thumb and your forefinger, and you caress it lightly and roll it between your fingers.
And she pauses and she holds her half-smile for a moment too long and you know that you have gained her attention.
Now the battle begins.
And she slaps your hand away, and she laughs and she darts away into the smokey room, glancing back once, twice and then gone.
Realization that life is hopeless.
Crazy depressing movie called Gummo.
Crazy depressing party with a bunch of people who don’t know the meaning of the word fun or the word sincere.
Spoiled brats grownup.
Vapid.
Hopeless.
But not all bad.
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Monday:
More parties.
Playing music for the people that made high school what it was.
Watching beautiful girls do silly things.
Listening to hard-ass drum n bass. Bone-Chill Grooves.
San Diego girl makes another appearance.
Close encounter with a blonde cutie.
Life goes on.