Been gone

i was gone this past weekend. i went home. i had no access to a computing device so here:

here are a couple of things that are awesome:

1.Coffee [especially hazelnut and caramel iced soy lattes. mmm]
2. books i am reading >> Venus in Furs by leopold von sacher-masoch, Bed and Eeeee Eee Eeee by Tao Lin (also his e-books), In the Cities of Coin and Spice by Catherine Valente.
3. the Silent Years, especially this video here
4. Battlestar Galactica


These are a few things i wrote over the past few days


Thursday April 03, 2008

I went to a free screening of the ruins tonight. I sat byself. There were kids there. It was rated R. Vines killed people. Flowers mimiced voices and cell phones. Everyone died but one. I went to the bathroom after fighting my way on the battlefield. Some guy pulled down his pants and his tighty witeys and went on about the movie. Wow what a great movie eh. The man next to him awkwardly grunted agreement. Man that was scary! he said. This guy is retarded I thought. I'm getting that movie when it comes out on DVD he said. That is definetly a movie I'm going to add to my DVD collection. The man next to him again awkwardly grunted approval. I washed my hands and left. Joined my friends outside and deposited my body in the car for an adventure.

Friday April 04, 2008

I went to a sushi restaraunt with my mom. i got a spyder roll. she got a combo meal. she said "i'm getting married" with a serious look on her face. i said nothing. a few seconds later she began laughing hysterically. i still said nothing. about 10 minutes later i looked at my mom 
and said "i'm moving to new york. Do you wanna come?" I had no intention of moving. She looked 
at me and said "why, so i can do your laundry? no thats ok." i said ok. We finished our meals, 
i my sushi, she her combo thing, then we left.   

Mondays
Today is not monday. It is Friday. One of these days it will not matter.
I write often. I write what I think. I write what I feel. Sometimes i write and I feel sarcastic. I think 'why did I write that? I don't think that way, so why did I write that.' When I write I also think 'this has been written before.' I think 'where did I read this?'
The title of this should be originality because then I could say, 'I have wriiten originality' and it will be true. Right now
it is not. I think when I read I absorb certain aspects of these stories, poems, or what ever the hell it is and I then regurgitate it onto my own page. but then I think 'that looks disgusting. It looks like a bear took a shit all over this
.005 cent piece of paper.'