Ups and Downs
In my defense: he seemed pleased last time I saw him.
Liza called me yesterday for the first time since February. For any of you who believed I never spent any time with girls my age, I aim to alter that a bit.
I guess I'm due a girls' night.
In the same way men named Michael are curses, I think men named Nick are blessings. I'll have to meet me one in person one of these days.
Nancy called me today (fulograc) from a bus headed to the Atlanta airport where she's flying out to England. I'm so happy for her: she gets to spend two and a half weeks in the UK with KC, Ryan, and Daniel (even though the last one is a whore...).
KC heard I was on the phone and talked to me for a second; it's so weird how close we used to be and how long it's been since we talked. Sexy motherfucker.
Daytime television is the devil.
The Wedding Story is a bullshit tv show. I'm never tuning in ever again. I opted for an AMC film Man's Favorite Sport? starring Rock Hudson, mocked as a man who cannot perform manly tasks like camping and fishing.
Rock Hudson mocked as a man who cannot perfom manly tasks?
Rock Hudson cannot perform manly tasks?
He had a voice to die for, though.
(Why would any man with the ability to make girls throw their panties at him EVER prefer cock? The gorgeous gay men blow my mind.)
I want to adopt the neurosis of always trying to seduce homosexuals. Then my affinity for impossible men will at least be glaringly obvious instead of ellusive.
Illusive?
Allusive?
It's been a year, now, since I saw Amrin. It's so wierd how close we used to be and how long it's been since we talked.
Oh, sorry - I've already written that sentence today.
Tylere moves back to his parents' home in St. Pete, FL tomorrow. His summer of slack.
::cringe::
I. Can't. Really. Vocalize. My. Thoughts.
Because of fear.
Sinking feelings in the pit of the stomach.
Where vocalization is like vomiting.
Evidence of this is my craving to listen to Saves the Day. I care not what any of you say. They write well. And they make me feel good. I'll post a song after this entry.
I was reading the alumni magazine for my university today. Because I'm an alumnus. All of the facculty openings require a PhD (in humanities programs), so it looks like I really won't stop for about five years. The MA just won't be enough to start teaching.
It's a good night for broccoli cheese soup.
And hot dogs.
I love hot dogs.
I'm glad I'm going to Boston next month. Electrical Crotch Crickets of Death will be the Bitch Ticket. Cigarettes, cheap beer, rock'n'roll.
And I'm gonna get to the bottom of this
Gonna peel back my skin
And look at myself shaking and shivering
and I'll get the rope from in the house
Survey the scene,
Finding two of the tallest trees
and I'll tie myself up,
above the cool earth
to dangle in the twilight
and as my skin collects in a pile on the ground
I'll radiate heat
and turn off my head
and just pretend that I dont exist
Then I'll see clearly to the end
Of the ropes that i've been hanging from
As they loosen from the trees
I plummet to the ground to be impaled,
and turned around
Finally free from the ups and downs
