Uneventful

It's starting to clear up and get warm again
so you can expect more hikes
very very soon
I have fights with myself and I tell myself I'm going to bed early but then my other half says yea right, you and I both know that ain't gonna happen, then I punch him in the face.

I'm glad I'm doing so well in my classes, it gives me hope for Florence; which by the way is all set besides that whole thing called 'money'. I really have no problem with spending a lot of money for this trip. I'd be just as poor if I moved straight to Seattle or Portland. I am actually looking forward to living like a normal person in their 20's. Only I will have the advantage of saying my first apartment was in Italy. OOOOH SNAP.

PS:

Epic Drive Home

I always love driving home really late at night.
I'm not sure why but it's always a lot of fun in my little red bug.
I think I'll miss that the most.
Anyway, what made this night epic was after I dropped off Anna in Sebastopol I got a little lost and found highway 12 and it's basically a straight shot home. And this is the perfect time for that lame ass radio station 101.7 the Fox to play in this order:
Metallica - Four Horseman
Megadeth - 99 Ways to Die
Anthrax - Caught in a Mosh
and OMG
Testament - Jump in the Pit

I was blown away. I've hardly heard them play any of those, but tonight it was the best thing to ever happen.

My belly is sick from nasty Denny's.

A Pack of Wolves played amazingly as usual and I can't wait to start on their music video and make their new album art.


PS: This would be really awesome to read!
it's even got illustrations and stuff with Abe Lincoln making a national apology.

RIP Frankkitty

You never lived cold nor alone
You were warm with love wherever you went
You were the king among cats
Big and strong with a growl that shook the house
You had the heart and the courage
You had the Lion look
You were the best friend and a good ear
I will miss you.

Sabre Dance

I saw a really funny chalk drawing of a piranha with its eyes as x's on my bike ride home tonight. I would have taken a picture of it with my phone but it was too dark and the people in the house it was in front of probably would have thought I was crazy or something.

Anyway, I wanted to share another clip of the story I'm writing but it needs introduction.
So, I revised this tonight, but there's some backstory you need to know:
It takes place during a party the main character "Scott" and his friend "Marty B" are at with Scott's kindof-not-really-his-girlfriend-but-still-kindof-secretly-in-love-with girl friend "Emily"
(Scott and Marty's names I stole from my screenplay btw)
Anyway, Scott sees Emily flirting with some guy and decides to take a walk with Marty:

"We exited through the front door and ventured down to the sidewalk. The street was now completely hidden by the fog. Cars would pass and look like demon eyes as they emerged from the fog. Marty pulled out a couple of cigarettes (the organic kind) and we lit them up. He fumbled with the lighter as he staggered up the road. It was funny; for such a big guy he sure could get tanked pretty easily. The ends of his sentences trailed off like mud and his head kept spinning around to take in the nothingness of the fog.

The streets became more and more unfamiliar as we lumbered on. We reached a point where the fog died out and the streets became busier with bulky buildings and cracked broken sidewalks. We ranted on and on through the night, each of us taking turns spouting rubble and rambling on about God knows what. We took puffs between each sentence without hesitation and flicked our cigarettes that exploded like fireworks in our hands. Our walks were eager and off center. Bushes and trees closed in on us like a claustrophobic dream. Our heads spun at cars and windows alike. I felt my head slowly fall to my shoes and then pick up again with sudden jolt. I liked having someone to converse with who was at the same level of imparity. Though Marty had drunk more than I had I was drunk on emotions of fear, anger, aloofness and shock.

We had reached a point in the road where neither of us knew quite where we were. It felt like during the day there were unseen forces telling us where we were in the world, but at night we only had the stars. I piloted our stride and picked up the pace a little to get the corner of each block to look at the signs. They looked all the same; bulbous letters that shook back and forth from my mind. We were lost, but in a good way.

On our path we saw a hospital with a million different entrances, all of which had signs that read “Not Emergency Entrance”. There was a church with a sign that said “The Holy Spirit Resides. Find it Through Song. Join Us” and “9:30 Sunday Service. 12:00 Church School”. The “Join Us” part creeped me out. There was a schoolyard with an orange slide and wooden structure that sat on chips of wood and sand. It had a four foot fence that ran around the sides. I could see kids poking sticks through it and yelling obscenities to passersby. I remember the feeling of wanting to escape fences like that. They showed you a window of what could be but was not allowed.

We downed three cigarettes each and decided it was time to return. In our reverse journey we walked on the other side of the street, but nothing was different; not that there was hope it would be. It didn’t take long for us to reach the house. We walked in to see the party had died down and everyone was off their feet. They still chatted in that slurred manner but it was quit. I couldn’t find Emily anywhere or the fathead she was with. The butterflies returned with a vengeance."

remember: comments are awesome and they really help

PS: found this drawing of Johnny from Senior Year: He's eating skittles and asking me if there is such thing as "Unoriginal Fruit"

Bella Mamma

my mom is so cute, she called to get me to send her a bunch of pictures to her via email cause she's in Colorado for a couple more weeks (and back again and again)

So far:
I've got 8 pages finished on my book/story thing
made it under my budget for food again (yay!)
Florence meeting is in a week
headache is gone

So far my book has two other characters and some events
I'm posting from the second page which pretty much takes place right after the last clip I posted
here's another clip:


"Whatever it was that I dreamt that night it wasn’t much different than what I dream most nights. It feels like, when I wake up, all that I can remember is like stock footage. Like the Holocaust or any propaganda from World War Two. I used to be able to write them down really quickly in the morning and then look at them later that day and think about what they meant. I don’t do that anymore. Whether it’s because I can’t remember them that vividly or I just don’t keep a pen and pad near my bed. But what I dreamt that night felt like I did when I was younger. The action was always epic in a big-budget movie kind of way. The sounds and even the smells of the dream linger a bit right as I wake up. But I’m always glad that they weren’t real. Ever since I got my first real job they’d always have something to do with that particular job. I was either late or didn’t do something right or did do something that may or may not affect my job. I hate jobs, all of them. The one I have now takes up most of my day, which at first I enjoyed, seeing that I didn’t have much else to do. But now I feel like the projects I want to finish never go anywhere because I get too caught up in work. I suppose that’s just how life is, so I put up with it.

The next day I rode the bus into the city to look for another job. Because money gets in the way it’s always hard to find something interesting and different than what I have now that will pay the same, or more. The bus smelt like it always did. There’s always that smell like someone rushed on with no shoes and had lit cigarettes between each toe. I always see regulars who never seem to ride on the same day or at the same hour. There’s never a seat without scratches or dents. It’s as if someone was clawing at the back of their seat to escape some demon or rapist trying to jump at them from the next seat. I sat in the back, as usual, not to be different or make some kind of sick statement; it was more like I could survey each person who came on. I would give each person a name and a destination to keep myself busy. But today I just sat and thought about what happened to that pack I had thrown off the bridge. Maybe a hobo found it and it’s keeping him warm."

PS: I think I might be putting my cat to sleep by the end of the week.
he's got chronic kitteh kidney failure
he's the white and brown one standing to the right.

yee.

A Clippy-Dippy Doo Da

Here's a little taste of what I've been writing:

"The Seattle air is cold.

But my fingers are still warm. That must mean my cigarette is almost out.

I took this walk to get try and get rid of that pack I stole from last Monday’s party. What a fiasco that was. I wasn’t even invited and yet I still arrived; formal Seattle attire and fashionably late. I couldn’t understand how one could be ‘fashionably late to a party they weren’t invited to. It was full of those Seattle kids that had lived there, or around the city, since they were born. They wore their hearts on their sleeves and smoked like army vets. I couldn’t stand them. I had grown up in a city where the nights were cold no matter what the day was like and the streets were always dark; whether it was because of the street lamps always broken or the lack of street lamps in general. I left because of the pretentiousness only to arrive at pretentiousness.

Now, with the city glow and the streets empty except for the occasional homeless man or woman grappling a dumpster, I was alone, and cold, except for my fingers, which were now warmed by my cigarette, melting in my hand.

This walk held no importance. I was returning some videos: A Clockwork Orange and Heathers. For once it felt empty. At 4 am the city was like a picture in a calendar. All the lights still glowing but everything was motionless. Something a tourist would look at and find peace and want to visit. Like you could make up your own stories about each of those lights and what went on in those rooms during the day. But while the streets were motionless the lights were only a daydream, like they didn’t exist. I thought maybe that’s what people in ancient times thought when they looked at the stars. They looked up and thought about what each of those lights were doing and what stories they held. So they made up their own stories about those lights. That’s something we’ve lost or taken for granted.

I continued down the block and a half to the 24 hour video store and looked at each of the signs in the windows. 50% off and buy two get one free and then the ominous Closed sign next to them. I thought it was ironic. Everything can change at 4 in the morning. I reached the store and slid the videos into the slot, not making eye contact with the nightshifter inside. On my way back I threw the rest of the cigarette pack off a bridge."


any feedback is appreciated!

PS:

3363

I started writing something tonight.
I'm not sure what it is (or what it's going to be) but I think I'm on to something.
So far it's set in Seattle.
I think I started writing cause someone (James) reminded me of my screenplay I've been wanting to write.
I think maybe I'll start it as a book and go from there.
Maybe I'll post a bit of it later.
I like writing in the first person, it seems a lot easier.
PS: ignore 3363, I just thought of a number.
PPS:

Wishes

I really wish I was born unto a RICH family.
I mean... R.I.C.H.
you have no idea what kindof crazy stuff I'd do with that money.
I mean, I could get a normal job like everyone else and be broke and still do what I want for the rest of my life... but the fact there's people out there with enough money to do with what they want and they only use it to party or get drugs or whatever.. it's sad.

I'd never be bored rich. There's always somewhere to go and something to see.

I hate money actually. It's the power of creative independence that it makes; thats what I want.

oh well, there's only the rest of my life.

PS:

Get Down

with my bad self.

does anyone know a good music program (NOT FL Studio or Garageband, I've worked with those and they suck). People are making some interesting music out there so there's gotta be something good.

oh snap:

Finally...

this is the best thing to happen all week.

got these in the mail this morning:

Nature

is trying to kill me.
fuck the earth
let it globally warm until it burns up
I hope every plant feels the wrath of humankind.

oh and I had a double shift today
opened, and just closed about 10 minutes ago
WHILE SICK
and what do they do?
"we'll give you a lunch voucher."

FUCK YOU.

PS: cool.