28 May 2009
So, I don't have the interwebs at my parents' house in Arkansas, so I've been up to very little online lately. And that also means that I missed out on birthday updates, but not to worry! I still posted. Since I left civilization, Miles, Bob, Wendy O., JP2, and Joey Ramone have had their birthdays, and I am celebrating them, tardy as they may be.
I graduated from LSU. That's nice. I am getting really sick of people asking me what I'm going to do, though. I get lots of condescending stares when I say I'm moving to New Orleans. And even more when I say that I don't have an exact game plan. So if you read this, DON'T ASK ME!
This Japanese horror movie called "House" is captivating me. I love everything about it.
I'm at camp. Perhaps the situation was accidental, but I'm happy to be here. My staff cabin (stabbin) is pretty sweet. I didn't know I would have a bathroom to myself! Yipee!
The B-52s were awesome. I had a whole posse there watching with me, so that made the experience a little more special. But I can't get hung up on that because...FLEETWOOD MAC IS COMING TO NEW ORLEANS ON JUNE 20! My favorite band ever is touring again. If the camp boss doesn't let me go, I may die. We'll see how that goes.
Wendy O. Williams, lead singer of the Plasmatics, whose first two albums are THA SHITT (I have been listening to them A LOT the past few days, coincidentally), would've celebrated her birthday today. Hers is in a slew of geniuses' birthdays, but hers stands out to me just the same. Happy birthday, Wendy.
On 5/19, the day after JP2's bday, Joey Ramone would've celebrated his. One of my favorite punk rockers, Joey had the voice, the presence, the talent--and he didn't have to act like a complete dick like Johnny and most of the other punks to prove it. Happy birthday, Joey. If I still have Rocket to Russia, you're still alive.
07 May 2009
These things are good: ice cream and cake, a ride on a harley, seeing monkeys in the trees, the rain on my tongue, and the sun shining on my face. These things are a drag: dust in my hair, holes in my shoes, no money in my pocket, and the sun shining on my face.
04 May 2009
01 May 2009
My friend Molly was writing about how she was jogging in the Pittsburgh rain when this song came on her music player. Instead of skipping past it, like she usually does for all "potentially meaningful" (her words) songs, she listened to it and came down with this overwhelming sense of euphoria and sadness.
"I started to run and it was like take-off- I couldn't feel the ground or the rain or the cold, I was flying. Running through the last three years and all their frustration and the few good points, past all the people who came and went and hurt me or bored me or scared me or made me feel this way. I was flying on every plane I've taken, every train I've slept on, every passenger seat in which I've sat in silence, every bus ride and walk in the miserable cold. Every boring meeting and breakup and class and bar night and presentation and date..."