Chatroulette till 4:15 with two delightful frenchies, keeping me company after the passing of my grandfather this evening.
Hate to admit it but, I function better, more healthily, substance free.
The time before I leave for Germany seems to be slipping through my fingers. Today? I need to work on my government class, do some swimming in a US lake, clean my room, and help my mom with Rocky Horror auditions. Tomorrow, more government and such.
Actually, tomorrow is going to be pretty fucking cool. I asked a band if I could whistle with them, and they accepted my request, so tomorrow at the Beat Kitchen, I’m whistling with Wally Dogger then spending the night with Tina and her ma at her Aunt’s.
Such beautiful weather helps me to feel happy.
9 Months Supervision and a 4 Hour Defensive Driving Class. They dropped my curfew ticket.
“I write differently from what I speak, I speak differently from what I think, I think differently from the way I ought to think, and so it all proceeds into deepest darkness.”
— Franz Kafka (via uglyhippieshit)
(Source: wavesofturmoil, via contouroflife)
I’m old enough that I’ve been past the stage of seeing my parents as saints for a while, but in recent days, I’ve been learning more and more about the people my parents were when they were young. For example, my dad and I were sitting in our screen room the other day, having a smoke, and I was asking him if he was ever involved with the hippies or the disco movement. “No,” he responded with a bit of a disgusted chuckle. “Southern rock, like Lynyrd Skynyrd and ZZ Top: that’s what I liked.” My dad was just a jock and a frat boy, going to Monmouth College and working at the slaughter house for extra cash.
Just now, I was at a small July 4th cookout with my parents and their friends, and I felt so out of place. I suppose this feeling seems obvious because these people are my parents’ friends, but I feel as if they think I’m so weird. Their own children of course are the straight-laced types, the average beauties, and I don’t mean to say that there is anything wrong with that… besides being incredibly boring!
Alex, if you still read all my posts: you looked great with the marching band today. Great work!
I, uh, I don’t know. I’m sure what I’m feeling is very normal for someone my age, getting ready to leave the nest and all. It’s just interesting to me.
Don’t be shy just let your feelings roll on by
Don’t wear fear or nobody will know you’re there
Just lift your head, and let your feelings out instead
And don’t be shy, just let your feeling roll on by
“I’ll move to Paris, shoot some heroin, and fuck with the stars.”
Everytime I hear this, I just think, “Oowh, heroin!” So wrong…
