h.potter, blind guardian and treasure planet. if a holiday can consist of only good and amusing things here they are. i find myself making out in a car with somebody no one thought i'd still be making out with. we got an after movie meal together and laughed about the weirdos and the police sitting at their tables sipping on water and shoveling eggs or bites of pancakes into their wide open mouths. i burnt my fingers on the oven placing the pecan pie in the oven. we're already eating leftover turkey concoctions. macaroni and cheese at aaron's house was good but not as good as super monkey ball two.
only one of the kitties likes me and it's probably b/c i snuck her some turkey yesterday.
i've found a canvas upstairs to undress, repaint, glue upon and pattern.
i'm questioning who i am. and it makes me question every choice i make. i find myself getting jealous of my friends. and i hate that. i fucking hate that.


weekend = outrageous.
i never knew bowling could be so fun. balls glowing flourescent pink and purple or hot orange and yellow under the black lights. and i pony pranced up and down the stretch so i could throw another gutter ball. my bowling balls make thud sounds when they hit the runway. i guess it's not a runway. and i almost fell over once but i didn't so i sat in people's laps and danced poorly to eminem and old no doubt.
christa's band, arkay, played at emo's on friday night. we sat on the pool table and the pretty music surrounded us. brian grabbed a twelve year old's ass for the promise of a dollar that he didn't get in the end. shel executed robot moves, face removals and cock to hot dog transformation that would make your grandmother jealous. i've got rad new friends that steal kishka and want to see dj filthy rich at the forum. i tied my sweatshirt around my chest.christa hit on me and i told her i wasn't in to beastiality.
we got to the party and the kids were already drunk. the camera crew came along. mikey was flowing and ben was beat boxing and a kid ran in and started screaming, "fuck the media!". but we just laughed.
i wish that girl was there to see it. it's one thing to be coy about listening in on someone's conversation but it's another to blatantly stare at the people you're eavesdropping on. in a word: nuts.
i stay over at brian's when i can't sleep.
cristina and i cuddled last night after climbing into bed at three am. a night full of nutty emo kids, pointed pony toes and tortillas.
today we climbed into natalie's car and drove to the yart sale in east austin. yard/art. the kiddo's look disheveled but we liked their pretty faces.. pretty dripping paint pictures on canvas and cardboard. screen prints on paper and micheal jacksons on christmas ornaments. i stole stinky's money for a black shirt with a cassette screenprinted on the chest, (it says sweet sounds and hello), a devo ep on vinyl and a rolling stones double lp. side two of record one has mother's little helper on it. you know you like that song. i remember my mom once explained that song to me. she explains a lot of things to me. i'm a psychologist's daughter.
the sun is pretty outside. i want to disappear to a beach in california and lay in the sand looking up at the sky and the passing clouds.
it's getting colder. flannel sheets are soft and fuzzy.


oh man. mega tight. and so much fun.


i think i'm going nuts in between thoughts of me on the brink of having a stroke.
i like the parties where the kids drink and try to break dance on a wooden floor. but they just look stupid and funny. the jewish boys dancing to devo like the eighties never left and everyone taking turns to lapdance a poor chair. it was cold outside. we took to the movement to warm up. looking like royal dumb asses tends to do that. red and white wine on the table and a fire in the back yard.
i drove up to see stink in san antonio. we held hands through sleepy hollow and the simpsons and then she made me tortellini. i've got that girl whipped. orgy lovin' cracked out asian girl roommates are funny to talk about. i think i'm going to take up the habit of carrying around a water gun tucked in to the back of my jeans.
during the renaissance, artists were interested in depicting different moments in the annunciation...
tim harrington is and always will be my secret lover. his soft bald head dripping with sweat and his tiny blue undies. man does he look good with a purse. overall rawkus affair in which brian got drunk, natasha humped the porkchop, aaron stared in awe, johnny moshed through his clothes, stank made scary faces when trying to get out of the pit and we all sang praises to jesus for les savy fav.
i hold onto people b/c i know they're there.


and i hang like a star/fucking glow in the dark/for the starving eyes to see/like the ones we wished on.


sometimes i really don't know what i want. shopping for burlap and he's driving me around because he "likes to". i don't think i've laughed as hard with a new person as i did with him. something about carrots and notes that read "u r 2 cute. i like the way you suck pickles. why don't you call me and give me a lesson?" i's dotted with hearts and dropped behind a stranger's chair for him to find after we make our exit.
i don't think i'm the only one addicted to wicked little town. some things are just really pretty.
beck was colorful by jeremy blake. i like the robot moves and the way the music changed and his voice filled all of us and how he kept jumping on the drum stand.
pouring plaster down a long sheet of jute colored burlap making drips and streams and puddles.
i am listening to the new sigur ros.


lord only knows why we stepped into the pita pit. those hideous color splashes of beef and peppers with smiling faces weren't exactly my ideal dining buddies. we stared out the window into the darkness while talking loudly and chowing down on pitas stuffed with meat and vegetables. and walking past our window are two kids from high school that i haven't seen since graduation night. one of them is headed off to the navy in two days. my first highschool boyfriend. to risk sounding cliche, it's strange to see everyone growig up and blazing different paths. i find myself being a lot more curious about where people are going to end up.
we took two maroon seats at batts concert hall to see the students of opera and voice perform solo accompanied by piano. a voice can move the room, bouncing off wooden acoustics and a tall organ that looks like a ship from outer space. i wish i had a voice like that and now i want to go to an opera.


anything related to fingering reminds me of junior high school despite the fact that the farthest i got in junior high was second base.
i wish i could be a gogo dancer and i would dance to stereo total and soviet all day long and never get sick of it. that show was rawkus depite all the scensters that made the mistake of thinking they were at a fashion show. i'm starting to think dance parties are really where it's at. i think that's all i really want out of life. i like how johnny and i both dance like rabbits on speed. and i made ben junior high dance with me. and cristina joined johnny and i for a little l'amour a trois. screw you, fashionistas. unless you are kevin and can get away with wearing a pink ensemble.
i got asked to lunch which got me asked to a party and explosions in the sky and then got me asked to see beck on tuesday. god damn you, nice boy. i dunno. i think the closer i get to dating seriously, the more i get freaked out. and the boy has a track record of long long term relationships. and i'm not saying that i'm so sure that i'm awesome enough that i'll be with him for a long time. but at the rate things are going that could happen and that's fucking scary. i could use a beer to contemplate the situation. i say it's all i want. but when it comes down to it, i get too scared. we stayed up all night talking twice in a row.
i secretly wish i was a european fashion model.
if anyone can track down a white mesh polo shirt for me, i'll give them candy.
i like tortillas a lot better when someone else uses their money to get them for me. and i like ice cream sundaes that cost seventy cents divided by three. i like the hot shot of johnny's b-boy crotch i took upon all hallow's eve and talking about the photo cake we're going to get for the engagement slash costume slash dance party we're throwing on wednesday. cristina will finally be mine as we tie cans to the back of our pants. did you see her drool like niagra falls? yowza.
despite the amount of time between burning brides and today, i still keep thinking about just how scary that bassist was.
i think i'm practically a boy in will and jack's minds. i don't think they know a pervier girl. and i get to hear them complain about bushy pushys and girls that say i think i'm falling in love with you to which the kid visiting in the room replied no you're not. oh and the computer backgrounds housing girls that wear bathing suits and have fine asses.
i like boxer briefs but i don't know anyone that wears them other than ben. and umm..
we drove to see kevin's art on south congress and got distracted by the pretty designer clothes on wooden and metal racks in the store that hosted him. i should have drunk a glass of wine and spouted pretentiousness. and then i should have stolen that maroon sweatshirt and courderoy coat.
all of us are on a chuck palaniuck kick. i aced through fight club and i have a fourth of invisible monsters to go. and i read animal farm in between the two to be informed of mussolini and stalin.
school blows right now.
my flannel sheets are cuddly and soft like blankets.


could it really really really happen?


cristina's trying to get me hooked on os mutantes. i really want some carmex.


it's in that moment where i laugh and tilt my head with a cocky half grin that i turn and find my features drooping back into a muddled mess of frown and downcast eyes. and it doesn't have anything to do with the person i'm talking to but the person i'm not talking to.
sometimes i wonder what it would be like to place bitter pills upon my tongue and swallow all of them.
add yasuko of melt banana to my list of heroes.
black dice played loud enough for the room to move with each beat on the drum and each moan into the mic. our bodies moved with the feeling of the music.


i like straight forward people and subtle details.
i'm eating pink wafers and wearing a blue coat.
friday night was quite a night. playing mommy for all the drunk kids and making sure someone doesn't lose his gay virginity while he's passed out in the bathroom of the gay club on congress. (not that that's a bad thing, he looked so happy) handing glasses of water to boys and girl in between gyrating hip movements and rubbing of body parts on the floor where the lights spin and loop. thin shirts with colors, subtly striped blazers and soft wool caps. it was cold outside and i kept him awake talking about his drinking and the influence of ethynol on the body as told by our shared biology teacher. he'd talk and then disappear into a state of slumber while i rubbed his back.
and when we get back, my tire is flat. a three am jack. johnny fixed it in five minutes once we had everything together. four lug nuts twisted on and one flat tire in the trunk.
i hit the sack at five am.
i'm copying songs into a folder. piebald - we cannot read poetry. the smiths - asleep. hot hot heat - this town. john lennon - oh yoko. of montreal - spoonful of sugar. etc etc.