wow, tonight's the first night i've really missed burque. halloween parties on sycamore where you see EVERYONE you know. dressing up and sneaking beers before you leave. that time marissa almost kicked some girl's ass for talking shit to me.

yeah, i don't know. melancholy.

I AM 53% PUNK.

The intelligent punk. Tuff and Smart. I
may be able to maintain a train of thought
long enough... What the fuck was I talking
about?

Take the PUNK/POSER Test at Fuali.com!

see, i knew i hung out with the emo kids for something!

can someone please comment on one of my entries? i swear to god i don't ask for much.

ok bye!

(new stuff soon, once i can get my host to get their shit together.)

ha ha! it may not be dog pants! practical! but this is close enough.

this is so sweet. (thanks, moz!)

oh, i miss carpboy. i'm a big sack of suck, that's what i am. i will email him back later. (i will!)

oy, this entry over at harrumph is making me sick to my stomach. and usually i love harrumph.

i was just getting over feeling sniffly about bootsy-chan, and i realized that my throat hurt. but when i came home, i had an email from adbusters, rejecting my query but asking to print some of my letter in the letters to the editor section!

if i get anthrax, can i have a book deal? and if i have to have anthrax, can it just be cutaneous? thank you.


*grin*

so here i was, feeling sniffly because i had to take kaibutsu chan to the vet, and she was mad at me and i had to leave her after she turned her back, and it made me cry because i'm a big wuss, but i came home to find my article on chicklit!

wooo.

what's an appropriate gift for the occasion of "i'm sorry my cat pissed on the bed, especially while you were still in it"?

I heart Seanbaby. this is the funniest thing i've read all week. (via MeFi.)

so i watched "eye of the beholder," with ewan macgregor and ashley judd last night. and i'd like to think i'm a reasonably intelligent person, but i could barely grasp the plot of that asstastic thing. ewan follows ashley around, and she wears wigs or something. assphincter say what? it was awful, yo.

best. thread... i was going to say ever, but i think it's the best one i've seen today. heh.

ok, really last post: i'm loving pete yorn. and it makes me miss dr cool. *sniff*

ok, i think this is my last post for the day: the other night, my sister and i watched pay it forward, which was a big steaming pile of ass, but i expected that, so it was ok. i still heart kevin spacey, though, and even though part of his transformation was the makeup for the burn scars, he totally looked like a seventh grade teacher. plus, i love (physically) damaged people in books and movies. when i was a young teenager, i read all these books by lurlene mcdaniel (which we actually still carry at work) about young couples who fell in love. one invariably died. so tragic, to my thirteen year old heart. but i'm thinking it scarred me. at least i've confined it to works of fiction, rather than getting all gussied up and lookin for men at the ICU.

anyway. yes. i rented the usual suspects, with more damaged kevin spacey, and i'm loving it. but i have to go to school. i'll finish it tomorrow.

so i've been thinking about steve's post regarding fate for the last few days. for the longest time, i've tried to figure out why i believe in fate, why i'm so willing to let go and believe that someone else is in control.

and i've figured it out, i think.

i have to believe in something bigger than myself, so that i have less regret about the past. and because i have never believed that i could earn something free and clear. that i don't deserve the good things i get. it sounds worse now that i've written it down.

wow, i'm still getting hits for my sister's grafitti pictures. just for the record, she took these in albuquerque in late june, for a class we took together about hip hop and rave. our final project was about the link between comic books and rap music. we so got an a.

halloween: two years ago, i was a bad fairy, complete with grafitti wings. last year, i was a deranged paul mccartney fan. i had a shirt on which i had written "i [heart] paul". of course, i would have to run into every single paul i know that night. "no dude, not you. the beatle! smart guy."

i can't remember what i was when i was a freshman. truthfully, i was probably passed out drunk. woo.

this year, though, there will be no costumes in the champagne room. i'm going to be watching over kaibutsu-chan after her surgery. but i want some beer. fuckers.

So this is odd,
the painful realization that has all gone wrong.
And nobody cares at all,
and nobody cares at all.

So you buried all your lover's clothes
and burned the letters lover wrote,
but it doesn't make it any better.
Does it make it any better?
And the plaster dented from your fist
in the hall where you had your first kiss
reminds you that the memories will fade.

So this is strange,
our sidestepping has come to be a brilliant dance
where nobody leads at all,
where nobody leads at all.

And the picture frames are facing down
and the ringing from this empty sound
is deafening and keeping you from sleep.
And breathing is a foreign task
and thinking's just too much to ask
and you're measuring your minutes by a clock that's blinking eights.

This is incredible.
Starving, insatiable,
yes, this is love for the first time.
Well you'd like to think that you were invincible.
Yeah, well weren't we all once
before we felt loss for the first time?
Well this is the last time.

dashboard confessional, the brilliant dance. beyatch.

see, dad, i'm not the only one who thinks dick cheney's dead.

update on my memewagon jumping: hehehe.

oh, yes, query letter update: 1 acceptance, 1 rejection, 1 still out. huzzah!

so the other night i was reading someone's blog, about how they love steely dan, and would follow them around on tour if they weren't so old, or some shit, and i thought "hey! let's download some steely dan!" completely forgetting that i hate steely dan. seriously. after i downloaded some asstastic song i was all "hey, remember that time you were working at that ampitheatre last year and steely dan came out and you made andrew come with you right then and leave?" and i was all "of course i remember, because that's when we took the bongo drums to my house and got all bombed and played them." and then i was like "you remember how you don't like to talk to people about pink floyd, because you sometimes get them mixed up with steely dan and you look like a big tool?" and i was all "yeah." and i listened to the damn song and it still sucks.

hah. bert really is evil.

i shall jump on the memewagon, and shake it like i just don't care.

now they're messing with our supermarket tabloids? these terrorists have gone too far!

reason 8972 my parents kick ass like no others: the other day, my mom says "hey, do you still have that mp3 about getting high?" "afroman?" i says. "yeah," she says. so i play it for my parents on their lunch hour. and they loved it more than even before. "hey, put that in my mp3 folder," my dad says, and i do. then i tried to cool them even more by playing "let me clear my throat," by kool keith, a live version even. they didn't appreciate it as much, but you've got to start somewhere.

Shihab Ratttansi: reason enough to watch CNN World News. As well as, you know, being up to date on world events. Mrrowr.

So here's my idea for a new comic book. The main character will be, of course, me. By day i'm a mild-mannered, slighty sassy record store clerk. But once night falls, or I see someone put a CD back in the rack where it doesn't go, i turn into CD VIGILANTE, ARBITER OF JUSTICE. I make the offender wear an apron and start putting hundreds of cds in order. But once they're done, they have to redo them again, only with some other arbitrary reason: the second letter of the album name, say, or the shade of the cd cover. Like Sisyphus, except cds instead of a boulder. and racks instead of a hill. I will wear a cape and smoke enormously long cigarettes.

It's sure to be an instant hit.

i'm too emo for my pants. for reals, y'all. this is how emo i am: i was reading in spin magazine about makeoutclub.com and how it's like a dating service for emo kids. now. i have no interest in that site itself, because i looked at it once and i didn't see the need, but they were talking about how every kid on there said they like dashboard confessional. amazingly enough, i found one of their cds at work that day, bought the motherfucker, and haven't stopped listening to it since.

"places we have come to fear the most." great record.

now i'm going to go read my cometbus and weep, letting my teddy bear soak up my saline tears.

there are all these k-tel cds at work, and they're six bucks, but with the magic of the employee discount, i can get them for a healthy four bits. plus a nickel. so the other day i was feeling all sorry for myself and since i like to shop when my mental state is in a dither (hah! crossword puzzle clue!) i figured i wouldn't break the bank by buying a whole load of them. i got some punk and "90s alternative" cds, which i am quite enjoying because it's the music i totally bought from my place of my employment when i was a teenager, and now i work there, and how funny is that? except it's not funny. also, some alt.country cds, and i'm afraid i went a little crazy when i found the gangsta rap ones. i limited myself to three, and i had to choose (in my head, mind you, not because i ran out of quarters) between the best of latino rappers (with big pun who i HATE) and this one which had songs like "let's talk about sex" and "u can't touch this" and if there's one thing i love, it's cheesy ass rap. so i picked that one and when i came home to clean the house i put all the cds in and wouldn't you know it, something sounded wrong about my cheesy ass rap cd. upon closer inspection, i found that the songs weren't by the original artists but by someone called "the eurobeats." man. did i ever get burned. so now i absolutely don't want the cd, but i can't return it because i have to get my manager to approve it because i'm an "associate" and i would feel like a cheap bastard for wanting my fifty cents back, but man, i don't want that cd. and i can't have another and just eat the fifty cents because i have banned myself from buying stuff for a few more days, because i spent almost half of my first paycheck buying stuff at work. and i'm so sad right now and i'd even listen to the big pun songs, if i had only picked the best of latino rappers cd. i really would.

i'm so friggin addicted to crossing over with john edward. i mean like, you absolutely would not belive. i watch it at ten every morning, and then my mum and i watch it on sci fi every night at nine. i even bought his new book. i'm a little worried, though, because i'm getting irrationally angry when i see someone on the show who is getting a reading and they sit there all stupid, mouth agape, and the reading is obviously for them and they're all "uh, but my dad died like 25 years ago!!! there's no waaaaaaaay it could be him!" and i just want to punch some doughy queens borough face. wasting time like that. shit.

but maybe i should be nice, because we're trying to win tickets tomorrow, and if i'm too mean maybe my dead relatives won't fix it so we can win. we'd totally fly to new york and everything. because we're that addicted. hey, dead relatives! i didn't mean that about punching someone. i just thought it. we want tickets! we want to talk to you! dead relatives! come on!

shit.

so last night i saw zoolander. for those of you who don't know (and i'm the only one reading this, so if i didn't know) tuesday night is my movie night. usually i go by myself, because i like going to the movies alone. also, so i don't have to hear you whispering and gargling popcorn, chuckles. and last night the theatre was empty, except for me, so that was even better.

anyway, yes. i'm a stiller fan, but the movie wasn't that great. the best part was when zoolander's male model roommates have a gasoline fight. ahaha. maybe because i always kind of wanted to have a gasoline fight, but i was afraid of burning my skin.*

so if i had a choice, i'd see it at the dollar movies. there were lots of celebrity cameos, which i thought was amusing.

*entirely not true. except for the part about the movie plot.

current query letter status: 2 out. 0 rejections, 0 acceptances. 2 more will go out tomorrow.

so. here i am again, sneaking words out into the ether like the maple syrup you just poured slowly down your pants, as if you figured i wouldn't notice. and on and on.