Sneaking verses in between
tan and co-tan,
Illegal spurts of syntaxical
Litter graph paper like
Dirty the margins of biology
Snake the edges of desks like
graphite serpents –
A vigilante of Poetic
Performing acts of artistic
For the sake of
SCHOOL IS GOING TO BE THE SHIZNIT.
I CAN'T WAIT FOR COLLEGE
I SERIOUSLY AM NOT EVEN BEING SARCASTIC. <33333333333333333
Ahhh, the summer months. Sticky with so many layers of melted ice cream and gum. So fleeting, and yet deceptively long.
Why does July seem so long when August is gone before you even notice?
Why am I writing this instead of doing my fucking english homework?ScheduleFirst Semester
1. Phys Ed
2. Math Analysis
3 - 4. Biology AP
5. Spanish AP
7. English Lit AP
8. European History APSecond Semester
1. Drawing & Painting
3 - 4. Bio
6. Gym/Family Living
7. English Lit
May I relay to you my sudden desire to shoot myself? It's mounting! Mounting! Like Queen Pasiphae's horrible sexual fetish!
I suppose I should get back to writing now. Though this assignment (along with the Euro one) are making me take a more profound interest in the middle east, which is all for the best considering humanity's present circumstances.
In the meanwhile, here's the intro to one of my stories:( What James Pigg Did To MeCollapse )
how AWESOME are hippies?
Went up to woodstock w/ MR, was nearly "arrested" and scolded for being a pothead by association etc. etc. Mostly just drove around a lot. Ate at retro diner. Explored RURALDOM and ATV trails. Didn't panic when the car broke. Good stuff.
I want to spontaneously go to Africa and sleep in a field and wake up to discover that i've caught malaria and encephalitis and have dysentary and was bitten by a very poisonous snake and have broken out in hives. YES. And then I would lasso myself an impala (or an elephant) and ride it through the marshes to the nearest pyramid, discover a secret treasure map, and go on a decade-long treasure hunt through the most exotic earthly places. I would go on to become the next/marry Indiana Jones or the Dread Pirate Roberts, and become legendary in movie format.
Still haven't seen Hot Fuzz though =[
Ahh, what can I say? I feel incredibly, INCREDIBLY restless. Finally signed up for karate again on impulse. Will go tomorrow and get beaten up and surely feel oodles better than now. Wish to do spanish homework, pero yo olvido' mi libro en mi armario, y por eso, no lo puedo. QUE LASTIMOOOOO.
On the up side, restlessness gets me to do things. On the down side, unless these things involve intense physical labor, I continue to feel restless afterwards. I believe I will go and excersize myself into submission as soon as this is posted.
Now, don't feel neglected, Live Journal. I periodically ignore each one of my creative recepticles. It was simply your turn.
Meanwhile, I've been doing this:
so it goes.
TWEET. FUCKING. TWEET.
Martin Freeman, come take me away!
Go on a long journey, around the globe, down to Peru and all the way through to the Barbary coast, in a corkscrew - cover every inch of land and sea, then tell me what you saw and who you met, tell me in excrutiating detail and separate yourself, so that I will no longer refer to myself in the first-person plural form. I'll be my own person, and you, yours.
Yet, still! We will be one in the same, so what's the use? There is no "I" without a "YOU" lurking in the shadows, under the dress of gaiety. Likewise, you cease to exist without my reclusive temperament. And together? We make Cynic! Fighting crime and laughing at idiots everywhere! So where's the excitement and adventure?
On the one hand, who r eally gives a damn?
On the other, contentment is nothing without comparison, and "apprehention of the good gives but the greater feeling to the worse."
So what is left? If there's nothing to compare either to, if you're in a constant state of one or the other, if you know nothing better, what's the matter then? Everything is as it should be? Who decides, anyway?
We wish we were hedonistic. We'd need nothing more in life but other people, who would only want the same. Or maybe just a good sheep to sink into. IT WOULDN'T MATTER!
(But, I tell you, Angst does not exist. it is all a lie. A big, elaborate, German lie, started by Freud and continued by his cult.)
But we think too much for that. Eventually everyone will get tired of it, thinking, and up will rise the Age of Indulgence, and no one will ever complain but the savages.
and they'll all kill themselves in the end, because mothers will cease to be as well.
Germany failed when it killed all its young schollars in WWI.
Excersize always makes me feel better. Perhaps I am only a beast at heart. Who needs civilization when they have sweat and guts and very heavy things to lift and throw?
I am alive. I almost typed "in love" just then, funny. I have haggled with the overlord and must only make sandwiches three times a week now. I know Arthur Dent would have had much more fun than I. Maybe under the same circumstances I would, too. Worship over a delicious meat product and its distributor. Hail the lunch-meat gods!
Don't enjoy working at Panera that much. at all. Except for the money.
And the instant that I find a new means of aquiring some, be it legal tax-wise or not, I shall quit and never look back. Except maybe sometimes to get some soup.
So, here I sit in the library, waiting for my English Classroom Companions to arrive so we can get this damned project over with. If they don't show up, i'll be really angry. Because that would mean that I'd be stuck here until four o'clock, and it is only three. That is sixty minutes. Sixty purposeless minutes. Minutes that are WASTED!
Naturally, I can take advantage of the time. It is like a cheap whore with no sense of the market. But that would still leave the project to get done in the next three days, in between the work and the sleep and the showers etc etc etc ah, i really hate that word.
I love it when literature opens you up to new literature.
Eg: The Time Traveler's Wife and Sappho, the greek lesbian poetess.
Naturally, by Lesbian i mean "From the Island of Lesbos"
but also I mean "a woman who likes women."
I feel so enlightened. This is the woman after whom the term 'Lesbian,' and more rarely 'Sapphic' was coined. English class is productive after all! But only when you're pseudo-doing the things that your teacher asked you to.
How is everybody?
They don't seem to be coming. Bugger all.
Been in a bad mood recent days, but friendly human contact makes things better. One hug a day keeps the monsters at bay. I have been considering putting an advertisement in the paper for Daily Coddler, pays with luv, kisses and occasional tea parties. I'm not sure how much of a responce there would be, though.
I think that the key thing is to go to sleep in a good mood. It doesn't work when you're angsty, you just stay up and pretend that the windows don't look like giant eyes leering at you from either side of your book case and try to distract your mind with thoughts of funny things you saw the other day.
For halloween, I want to go out and scare reasonably sane-minded adults. Someone has to come with me, though, because there is really no point without any witnesses to laugh with afterwards. Vanessa, remember last year? Like that, only out in the open and with possibly more gore.
I love how people are so open to being frightened on halloween.
Any normal day you walk up to them dressed as a zombie it is more likely they'll laugh at you than run away screaming.
God dammit, come sleep over.
What's all this? Inferiority? Definitely not. Superiority? Ha! Uninterestedness. More likely.
Come sleep over. I need attention.
- Mood:trancendental (not)
...with my sister's computer, that is.
It may end up being a few night stand, seeing as the internet in my room and my room alone decided to graciously stop working.
Paramus High School is large but I am getting around fairly easily, although the person who numbered the doors is ridiculous, and I have no idea what their logic behind the system was. You just have to memorize where each classroom is, because they are spread out in such random orders that I had to spend a large amount of time between classes pacing up and down the hallway trying to locate room 909.
Most of the teachers are nice enough, although the way my english teacher speaks as quickly as she can in order to try to stuff as much knowledge down our throats as humanly possible in an hour, and the way she slouches makes me twitch slightly. But I'll live through it. She is making us write an autobiography. Today's assignment was "Write the first few paragraphs of page 97 of your Autobiography"
Have to catch up with what I missed so far, autobiography-wise. And she's forcing me to do the summer project. For shame, teacher! It is too late! Not only that, but she isn't giving me any information on it, is telling me to scavenge around for the fucking thing, and the best part is: it is no longer online.
No aquaintences of great importance just yet.
Eventually, I'm sure.
I fall asleep in history and math, so don't feel too bad about it Vanessa. (This, of course, makes it all better, you see.)
And last but not least, guess who is now a member of the working community?
That's right, I am.
PANERA BREAD. Mmmmm.
Birthday Party 14th. Can't invite too many people, but I can't wait.
And there will be a /tea party/ for a few of you before hand. Solely because I don't have the patience to make enough scones for everyone.