HEY!

Does anyone know what those art kits were called where you made a picture out of sand? The paper was sticky. You would uncover parts of the picture and pour one color of sand on. Then peel off more parts and pour a different color of sand. Please get back to me if you have any information on this. It's slightly important.

At one time,

I'll have 30 - 40 tabs open on my Firefox window. It's ridiculous. At the moment some tabs I have open include:

-A Google search for wolf eyes

-A review of Evolving Blush or Driving Original Sin at ARTISTdirect.com

-A Wikipedia article on Keiji Haino

-Japanese restaurants that delivers to me on Grubhub

-A Google search of nepotism

-American apparel webmail

-The Cramps discography torrent

-Aaron Dilloway on Discogs

-Google search for vhs-c converter

-A "PHILIPS USA PH61300 Vhs-c Adapter" on Amazon

That's probably about half of them. I gotta go get my laundry. But I'll leave you with this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch_private?v=b7b3UrLqS_Y&sharing_token=JngmPUqddUEZdeFhBQkrog

Tell me if that works. 

Books I'm Reading:

1. The Psychic Soviet by Ian Svenonius

I don't really know too much about it. All the information I've read about it is Amazon reviews. I just bought it on a whim at the St. Mark's Bookshop the other day. It's kind of just a bunch of little essays. I guess you could say it's postmodern or something. I don't know. It's just essays on like the Cold War, rock n roll as commercialism, and Seinfeld.

2. Tristessa - Jack Kerouac

I just started this one today. I love Jack Kerouac and I realized it'd been awhile since I'd read anything by him and so I bought this one because it's real short and I don't have much time to read with working and school. It seems to be about one of his love affairs in Mexico basically. His style is pretty abstract at this point. It was written definitely after On the Road but before Big Sur.

5. number9dream - David Mitchell

I'm reading this one for class but I like it so far. I wish I wasn't having to read it at such a fast pace though. It reminds me of Murakami - he even refers to him in the book. Also this book by Banana Yoshimoto called Asleep is similar. All these Japanese and Japanese-influenced novels seem to have the same combination of mystery and mysticism. David Mitchell is English but resides in Hiroshima. His style is a somewhat Westernized version of this mystery and mysticism.


Yea. That's it really.

I Can't Get No Satisfaction

Not even from seeing his number on missed calls four times. Three from five in the morning on Friday and one from two last night. I'm curious about why he's calling but another part of me just doesn't care. He's not calling to profess his love for me. He's not calling to say he's coming to New York to rescue me. He's not calling to say I'm sorry for driving you crazy, I will change and always be there for you. So really what's the point? The only thing it would do was perpetuate this cycle of being on his good terms for awhile and then falling out of his graces with one wrong step.

But who can say how long I'll actually hold out? All he has to do is call at that perfect time when everything seems horrible and his number seems so delicious and I'll think of his name and the picture I have of him in my head and I'll forget the real person. Then I will pick up.

Until then, I will preoccupy myself with the war I have going on with this huge poster on my wall. I have to reinforce it everyday with Scotch tape because that is the only tape I have. Regardless of this it sometimes it just falls on top of me. It's a frightening experience. You're lying down close to sleep and a poster comes crashing down on top of you.

I spent almost two hours in a bookstore today. I am going to read three books at one time. I thought I'd make the most of my ADD by switching the books I'm reading constantly in an attempt to stay engaged.

Not-Quite-Midnight Dreams (I'm on a writing rampage.)

I saw my best friend’s (yes, I’d still say she’s my best friend even though I hardly talk to her anymore, one of three people I consider my closest friends) baby’s head sway backwards for a split second before my best friend caught it. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” she says. She is the same as always. Her boyfriend surprisingly seems to have adapted to fatherhood much more gracefully than she has to motherhood. He holds the baby’s head in the crook of his arm confidently and rocks him gently back and forth. When you see your best friend become a parent, come talk to me about it. Because as for now, this is all I have to say about the matter. The rest - well, I can’t even contextualize it.


I still have this boy’s blanket for Christ’s sake and I still never think of him. He is so unreal to me. I once thought I was going to marry this boy and most of the time I forget he even exists. He’s just one of those past lives I’ve almost completely lost. When he said, “Charlie Brown blanket,” it took me a minute to think of what he was referencing.


Things have got to change.


I really think I write badly because I feel like I leave out a lot of important details on accident. I forget my audience. My writing is very self-absorbed just like the rest of my life. People have been telling me to “get out of my little bubble” for six years now and I still just don’t get what that really means. I’m always being told “how young” I am. I’m always feeling like whatever emotions I have are so invalid because it’s all just caused by this distorted perception you’re thought to have when you’re a teenager.

I feel like I just lack the fundamentals of being an adult. I have no sense of realism. No sense of responsibility. I’m irrational and impulsive.

I love my mom because she a lot of the time she thinks the exact same way I do. I tell her about Patrick texting me and she says, “He is so weird.” I laugh in my bathroom by myself. Sitting there with the shower running and feeling awesome because not many other people are doing this on a Friday night. Not everyone has a mom who texts them things like that. Not everyone is alone. Not everyone is high. Not everyone is in New York. Not everyone is a girl. Not everyone is nineteen. Not everyone is cynical. Not everyone. Not every one.


The ceiling is dripping! It’s raining on the inside! Time to go go go! Get out of this wretched bathroom.

I wish I still lived in the 90’s before caller I.D. was invented. I would do prank calls all the time.

sunny pictures

I go big or I go home. When I actually decide to do something, I do it with passion. That is until I decide I don’t want to do it anymore. Then I just give up. I only seem to succeed at destroying myself.

I’ve always wanted to be these other people. But I went about it entirely the wrong way. I’ve just been playing characters. I’ve been playing the character of writer or the character of painter or the character of musician but not actually invested time in writing or painting or making music. I have loads of excuses about why I don’t spend my time making art and they all suck.

I think I’m really immature – too immature to be wasting all this money in college. I need to take a year and mature before I decide what I’m going to do.

The first thing I need to do with my life is get the fuck out of this bathroom.

I remember when my friend told me that if I am upset with the way things are in society I should get together with other people who feel the same way and try to change things. She learned all this from her social movements class. I desperately want to be in that class. I’m going to run with this idea. I’m going to get together with people other people who also don’t like the way things currently are and then I’m going to figure out how to change things. Not really in any political way necessarily.

I really miss Soulseek. It was such a community. And sometime’s you’d find really weird and random stuff. And sometimes people would message you and give you music suggestions. And there were so many things you could do. It wasn’t as easy as torrenting but it was way more fun. I miss my PC.

I'm warming up to my roommate's hamster. It's kind of weird because she's nocturnal. I'm glad she's not living in the closet anymore. I feel like she's much happier on the windowsill. I really wonder why my roommate got that hamster. Or why the people down the hall got a snake. Why would anyone want a pet like that? It's just an idea that's totally strange to me. Except fish I understand. Maybe it's because when I was little, fish were the only pet I had besides the traditional cat and dog. Animals that don't recognize you and almost just exist as an accessory creep me out.

I get really caught up in making playlists lately.

More Ramblings from Word Documents

Need to buy a microcassette recorder. I think I am going to pretend to be someone else for the rest of the semester.

Jon Caldwell is nothing to me. He did not wish me happy birthday so why should I wish him happy birthday? I’m not going to “win him back” because he doesn’t secretly care about me. I need to give the fuck up and move on.

I think I’ll pretend to be a combination of all the people and characters I love the most.

Or perhaps I’ll just be a better version of myself. That is harder to do. I don’t always know “myself.” It’s scary.

I’m hooked on Onra’s Chinoisories in a way that I haven’t been hooked on an album in awhile. But even this obsession is not like the obsessions I had when I was younger. There’s something about listening to music through headphones from a computer or from the computer’s speakers that just ruins music. Music is such a physical thing. I desperately miss my nice stereo set up at home.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello again from stoner Sam. Sometimes I think in only visuals and sounds but no words.

I like subways and walking and all those little times when you aren’t obligated to be thinking about anything in particular. You aren’t expected to read, or do homework or call your bank about your pin number, or call your mom, or paint, or watch a movie, or visit your friend. You just get to walk.

I just like to lie on the waves of my comforter and sleep or think. I like to sit in my bright dorm room and pretend I’m in the 90’s. I don’t like the real world. I want to make my own world.

I’m always doing six things at once or nothing at all.