we’re on a road to nowhere

hey assholes, wake up, it’s not cool to be scene and even more, it is NOT cool to pretend you know anything about music when you really don’t. i think above all, what i hate more than a music snob, is an idiot who takes credit for liking music they know SHIT about. and it’s so obvious, it’s always so fucking obvious. But I don’t really expect much from certain people. And, I have to hand it to the asshole, but Max was right. Most people you will meet in this life will be nothing more than mediocre, and even the ones you grow to love probably aren’t anything more either. I mean, I guess I just really miss people who are genuine. I suppose this is why my long time friend Trisha and I never fight, because I know no matter what she does or says she is nothing more then genuine about it. And sure, we don’t listen to the same music, and I respectivly enjoy our differences but the one thing that I love most about Trisha is that she’s really the same person I met in seventh grade. Sure, boobs, boys, brawls, bitches, these factors have changed us sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse, [the latter, especially in my case] but when it comes down to it, when it really comes down to it, there’s nothing that’s happend that has really tainted her, fucked her up, made her into something she is not, or something she prentends to be. I suppose I should just let things go and leave them along and not dwell, but I can’t fucking help it, it’s in my goddamn nature, you know ? I hate these pseudo-scenster bitches who flock to local shows and claim to know what they’re talking about. That statement probably pulverizes me to the other side of things, and you can call me a music snob, if you will, but it really isn’t like that because I don’t know everything, I really don’t, but I know what I like and I know about all of it. If that makes any sense.

All of this comes at such a fucked up time in my life. All of this nonsense and relationship crap. I am trying to put it into perspective, but cripes, i will never see the bottle HALF FULL, nah, fuck that. Today was tiring. I was on a field trip to the fashion institute of technology and then to macy’s in herald square, with all the skanks from my fashion marketing class. I shopped. Ate. the whole bit. It was semi-amusing. And anythings better than school. ANYTHING. & those people, cripes. Anyway, I came home, did my thing, went out to eat with my uncle & such and then left and went to a show in brooklyn, to see sonic BOOM. Sonic boom are your traditional nyc trendy indie rock shit. i’m not saying i didn’t like it, i’m just stating the facts, you know. It was alright. I drank some vodka and grabbed someone’s ass so you know, all in all, a decent night. I just got in not too long ago. I wish I were always inebriated, because, things would always be clearer, life would be sweetier, and it’s a lot easier to tie the cherry stems into a knot with your tongue, take it from a pro.

If nothing else, Alyssa taught me how to always make sexual connotations with fruit. God Bless.

I’m really tired, really fucking tired and I really just want a phonecall from certain someone [yes, who is also nothing but a mediocre asshole] saying “hello, i missed you, i really think you’re stellar, i just wanted to say goodnight” you know, something really ridiculous and stupid, something i could comment back with “shut up you ridiculous mediocre asshole,” something funny like that. Because I had a very pretty day, you know, things were working. the hair, the eyes, the lips, hips, tits, all of it. I felt like a gypsy. And I wanted someone to fucking notice. ar ar ar.

really, i’m a pirate in gyspy clothing, totally bourgeois, yet totally stuck up.

jinkies.