confusion.

with hair like that, you could put your clothes on backwards and people wouldn't know what to think.

i confuse myself.



a lot.

but these headphones are loverly.

sun.

the sun needs to relax. it's being a real asshole.

who loves the sun?

not everyone.

proper english.

a couple weeks ago i finally found out the difference between a psychologist and a psychiatrist. one can give you uppers and downers. and the other can only talk you out of being nuts. i can't remember which one did which though. so i'm like.. back to square two.

i still don't know why laying on the floor feels so good. but it does.

and i tried looking up whether it should be 'laying' or 'lying' and all i got was a bunch of strange english terms that i didn't want to deal with.

so i'll be laying on the floor.. sort of on my side so i don't choke on my own vomit.

proper english makes me want to vomit.

$2 is my friend.

level of hardness.

i've learned that nothing is difficult. you're either not trying hard enough. or you're trying too hard.

like what einstein said, "Make everything as simple as possible, but not simpler."

not that that actually applies.. but i'm going to pick up this stupid guitar and hope something good comes out.

i don't know what level of hardness i'm putting into this. but i wish i were better at it.

ghost car.

not what i would call a good day. but some other people might. so...

Sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows/Everything that's wonderful is what I feel when we're together...


it's a ghost car!

sleep.

if you're going to lose sleep. you might as well lose a lot of sleep.




i'm sure if drugs were involved i would absolutely lose my mind.

stuffs.

i've managed to stab my leg with the chi epsilon key that was given to me. they need to make the end less pointy.

they stuck one of those easter island heads on campus.. it's awesome.

there's a band called first base. and they have a song called nobody makes my girl cry but me. it's pretty enjoyable.

i had a dream where i was pulling out large amounts of chewing gum from my mouth. i still can't figure out how i managed to chew all of it.

i have $7.

old guitar.

fuck this. i'm getting rid of my old guitar.

...piece of shit.


but then i look at it. and then i can't get rid of it.

it'll collect dust for me now.

deja vu

what is that.. like french?

i don't like entropy.

uh....

the new guitar is behaving like a drug addict. like some sort of magical car accident where the product isn't two smashed up cars, injured people, and miles and miles of people who like to stare at nothing.. but the product is a great wave of paint splashing over a canvas full of tiny particles that are dying to be painted upon. and when that paint hits them. they all scream and cry because they're being frozen in time. until they reach a moment in time where light strips them out of the outer shell and into a great sea of sound and lsd. i should totally paint this guitar.

sexy back.

so i saw some fat mexican girl wearing a shirt that said. 'i brought sexy back'

first i thought.. who the hell makes these shirts. and then i thought.. who the hell buys these shirts. and then i thought.. she brought sexy back!? and then i thought about vomiting..

luckily i managed to vomit out of my eyes to momentarily blind myself as i passed by.

and to answer my thoughts. it's retards. some other retards. and i think it was the fat black kid from the second mighty ducks movie and his knuckle puck that brought sexy back. or it was some white guy.

memory.

did i forget to do something?

no.

heart.

i don't know what kind of stunt my heart's trying to pull. but it was doing some weird stuff today. it felt way too much like liquid and not quite enough like the beating piece of meat it should be. strange wave like feelings that made me want to sit down.. even though i was already sitting. so you know. i was confused. sit down. and then sit down again. and then do it again. i get stuck on the third one. because i can sit. and then sit indian style in my chair. but then i can't like.. sit in another chair while sitting indian style in a chair that already has me sitting in it.. well. maybe. but my parents didn't raise me to be one of those chinese chair stacking kids. you know. the ones that stack them up like 20 feet. and then climb to the top so they can eat noodles while doing a handstand. no. i'm not one of those little fuckers. and i'm sure that's unneeded stress on the digestive system.

i should vomit this one out and get a new heart.

vagabond.

i think i would make a pretty good vagabond.

'you need a les paul' said the mexican.

'in second place.. cal poly..........................................................................................
...............................................................................................................................
............................................................. pomona.' stop fucking with us man.. if i had heart problems i'd be dead. or like.. very uncomfortable.

'you look like you're drunk and on your way home.' said professor kitch. i guess that's how i look. you can't argue with a philosopher/civil engineer.

i bought a guitar at a pawn shop. i need to do more of that.

i also need to read more. the bookstore didn't have any FE review books.. so i purchased that creem book. boy howdy.. indeed.

woodland hills has two macy's right next to each other. that lady lied to me. but she was cool. so i'm all right with it.

they also had two pawn shops right next to each other. next time i'll listen to my eyes rather than.. that part of me that takes care of all the impulse buying. the ass or something like that.

so second place at conference isn't too bad. it's not too good.. but you know.. it's also not too bad... it's a very nice.. humdrum. or something. i used the thesaurus for that.

ok. and back to the mexican. he told me not to jump on the bandwagon with the fender jaguar. i have my reasons. tom verlaine. kevin sheilds. nelson. the last one is really awful.

playing soccer after you haven't played soccer.. or done any such activities in maybe.. 6 years is very tiring.

on with the show.

sysem

i don't know exactly what it is. but if you put a 't' in there it might help. i prefer to make things more difficult for the judges. and also i enjoy looking like a retarded chinese kid who doesn't like to use t's. everybody knows that t's are like the devils favorite letter right? what with all the similarities between it and the cross..

this stuff doesn't make sense.

conference

tomorrow a masked stranger will hit me in the leg with a lead pipe.

good thing i'm not psychic.