quiche lorraine and strawberries romanoff should be part of my complete breakfast everyday.
i can't dance. i like to pretend i can and sometimes my attempts make people laugh. it's all good...making up stellar dances to the teeny bopper summer hits and disco hits from the past give me something nothing else in life can. class, pure class.
two enthusiastic thumbs up for the brand new weezer album. i skipped second period to get it at the store's opening on tuesday. i'm falling in love with every song more and more everyday. i've listened to the green album everyday this week. a couple month's ago, we had to write a letter to someone we admired for creative writing:

dear rivers-
sometimes i feel exposed. clothing and skin, muscle and bone stripped away to reveal the me beneath. sometime I sing in the car, letting music rush over me like flowing water, encasing me in a shell of emotion, blind but seeing. and sometimes a chord reminds me. progression leading to scents, frozen faces, laughter resonating softly like an afterthought. memories. music seems to take a hold of me, my ears a form of osmosis with the lyrics and i am real. i’ve been stuck in traffic with you, sung at the top of my lungs with you, and let the tears wash over the landscape of my cheek and chin with you. i’ve felt you and i thank you.

kind of out there but yeah.
btw go eat a neopolitain ice cream sandwich and watch the phantom tollbooth
in the background:british comedies and the washing machine