ow.

hello. my left arm hurts. not quite the entire arm. it's more of a concentrated pain around the finger-hand-wrist area.. more so the wrist area. but it only hurts when i do stuff with my fingers. so i decided to include the other areas. so i'm going to sleep tonight. and it'll be better tomorrow. because that's how things work. i bet some monster comes in and rewires all my veins and organs and stuff while i sleep. i should leave him/her a tip. in the form of a puppy or kitten. monsters like to eat puppies and kittens right?

laughter

laughter is wayyy too infectious. you know?

genius farm.

'advanced surveying? that's an oxymoron.'

ha! but you don't get it.

from your friendly and not so friendly livestock at the genius farm.

this thursday?

cookies are great. the ones with the m&m's are pretty tricky though. are you eating a cookie? or are you eating m&m's? you don't know.. because they're stuck together.

these thoughts will be replaced by other more difficult problems.. although not much more difficult.. because i'm a freakin' genius.. come thursday.

this is why i need a time machine. one where i can't mess things up.

where's thursday?

those aren't my shoes. you must be looking at the person next to me's shoes. yeah. that'll work.

i filled my cup half way. or emptied it half way. but it'd have to be full if i were to empty it. so... next time somebody says you're some pessimistic fucker. because you say your glass is half empty. tell them to fuck off. because i'm thinking way too optimistically for you. the glass is half empty because i drank the other half. so rather than getting half a glass to drink.. i'm thinking about getting a whole glass to drink. unless that glass happens to be full of poisons. then you're in trouble. but either way.. i really don't think this makes any sense at all. and i'll just say it's 'half full' because.. 'half empty' has one too many syllables.

will thursday never come?

my bloody valentine - loveless

so.. loveless is an excellent album. kevin shields does this stuff.. and you'll turn to look at him and ask..'what the fuck was that kevin?' but he won't be there. and another song will come on.. and you'll be spinning around in circles trying to find out what's going on.. but it'll be too late. that bald evil guy on the island with the volcano has all the detonation launch super codes.. and the president is being held hostage.. and a laser from a satellite is pointed right at your ass.. even if you're sitting down.. it'll shoot a hole straight through the earth just to get to your ass. but you won't care. you won't care at all. because you're listening to loveless.

i'd say.. 63.5 crayons/64 crayons. like.. you have the box of 64.. but one of the crayons is slightly used. or some body builder borrowed it.. and snapped it in half while he/she was using it.

chi epsilon

these headphones make my ears hot.

the wires on the floor wish they were snakes. i would prefer it if they would remain as wires.

chi epsilon? ha! once again.. uci can kiss my ass.

pills.

pills. certain pills make my head spin. i felt like throwing up. and it didn't quite help the symptoms.

ow.

ow. my chest hurts again.

blurred vision.

if i could only pour my ideas out of my head.. without killing myself. or causing large amounts of brain damage or killing of brain cells.. i'd do it. once my ideas are out though.. i'll need to figure out what to do with them.

-

fuck the dash. fuck the minus. the hyphen.. or all the other stuff that this '-' line represents.

art

even if i wanted to i couldn't write it down.. because i had no idea what i was doing. it sounded nice and all.. but i did't know a thing about it to actually write it out. like the artist without paint and piles of shit for stuff they call art.

drugs.

i need more outlets. and less oddly shaped plugs. but i still don't know what i'm doing. when i think i know what i'm doing.. but i don't. that's when things go wrong. and that's when you burn yourself with a soldering iron or something. and that's when you slice up the side of your foot on something you can't remember.. but you do remember that you sliced up your foot with something.. maybe metal. because there's a scar on the side of your foot now. there's finally a cool breeze passing through my window. or the ice monster is passing gas outside my window. it's fine. it doesn't smell. it's a lot better than the fans and stuff though. my papers don't flap around. i bet if you took acid on a hot day you'd spend your time figuring out ways to keep yourself from melting. and you'd probably kill yourself in doing so.i could be wrong though. i really think i am. don't get any type of hallucinogenic drugs near me.. i'll see some really awful stuff.

i don't think drugs taste the way they should.

shake some action

if i smoked, i'd have an ashtray full of cigarettes. and a blank page.

get something written. it's all there. or here.. but in a bunch of little pieces. i need to figure out how to arrange theses little pieces into something bigger. not like a puzzle. more like cell division or something. i don't know. maybe i'll blame the sun for the lack of ideas. the sun does nothing but cause trouble. lou reed said it best. so unless you're riding into it.. who cares that it's shining. who cares that it makes plants grow. and who cares about the other things it does. but not because of broken hearts. but because it's just way too hot. that's a great song. people have no idea. well. some people do. but most people don't know what the fuck they like.


shake some action. and i'll get it done. it might not be good. but at least it'll be done. and i'll go from there.