vapid little problems
Written @ 9:15 p.m. on 2006-07-22
i'm officially over summer.
no i dont want to go the coast again.
no i dont want to debate my hair again.
no i dont want to watch the same damn show again,
and again and again and again.
what to do
what to do
what to do
i'm sick of spending money
what to do
what to do
what to do
i've
exercised to the point of collapsing in a pool of my own sweat on the floor
i've
written five songs on Red (name of new guitara)
i've
played Red till my fingers turned blue and the skin bubbled on my callouses
i've
spent money on SALLY'S clothes (which i now regret because we're back to feuding again-- why am i nice to her? why am i nice to people in general?)
i've
considered a counselling job (the training would be nice)
i've
dreamed about going to hell...again
i've
dreamed about hannah...again
i've written and written and written and taken a few not so awful photos
he says that i'm not one of those productive artists that create by the cargo-load for some patron
i'm one of those hopeless useless kinds that occasionally create something 'worth a shit' (eloquent no?) but otherwise are completely without the capability to function
i havent been out.
i dont want to go out.
i dont want to disappear again.
i dont want to do anything but i've nothing to do
EKH.
my life needs to be more difficult
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