worshipher sauce

most of the time I have a hard time telling whether the girlfriend really likes anything I write or make or do.

most of the time.

today was a day off but surely doesnt feel like one. woke up at eight to run errands, take the girlfriend to work and whatnot. picked up some forgotten clippers and bought a binder at staples for my anthropology class. went to barnes and noble to try and find the book I need for my creative writing class, not to buy, just to copy down the assignment in chapter three. they didn’t carry it.

spent the day putting together my “portfolio” for anthropology and later, perhaps the highlight, ate a butterfinger. no, I didn’t instantly win free downloads from napster for a year, but I probably did get a cavity. fyi butterfinger, “crunchity” is not a word.

what’s today? tuesday?

the first summer the girlfriend and I got together every tuesday we would go to this science teacher’s house who she housesat for over the summer and bring a bunch of pot. we’d sit at their giant tiled dining room table and smoke joints and watch american idol. that was the first season american idol was on and we were rooting for nikki mckibbon, we thought kelly clarkson was too all american. we always made out a lot and sometimes did more.

adolescent romanticism makes me wet

now on tuesdays she works all day and I school myself all day. we get home late and talk about work and school until we fall asleep together. we havent had pot in weeks but it seems like we still smoke on a regular basis due to fellow potheads.

last night we hung out together all night and it was funtimes. we laughed a lot and did shots together and made six feet under into a drinking game

everytime david fits into a gay stereotype drink five.

we tried to fix my car, to no avail. we ate shitty fast food and debated about what she’s doing with her career. we made out a little and fell asleep early due to intoxication.

tomorrow brings nine to five work and seven to ten school and anything in-between will involve food and getting ready.

god damn the light! say the thermals. I still listen to them over and over and over even though I already know all the words and sometimes I’d rather be listening to the unicorns but don’t want to go get the CD from the stereo.

I’m playing this game with the third roommate in which I don’t wash his wine glasses cause it’s not my fucking job. I wash all the other dishes and leave his in the sink. there are now four wine glasses in the sink in about two weeks and he still hasn’t noticed or simply doesn’t care.

if I could actualize my hate into something solid it would be in the form of jeremy’s stupid fucking face.

I’ve been all down on myself lately and maybe it shows in thee diary or maybe it doesnt. maybe I feel shitty for not making anything good for a while or maybe I feel shitty cause I dont do anything worth it on a daily basis. maybe I am pissed that everyone around me has a life beating way harder than mine and I get bitter. I dont want to wait till I’m twenty five for crazy things to happen.

fuck it.

whutev.

in line
for a movie

that will probably suck.

i rather like your title as well. but i dont understand how you could live with somebody and not have sex with them. i dont mean your third roomate. sex is far more important than sleeping in my book. isnt this phenomenon called lesbian bed death? bisexual bed death?

it seems like she likes just about everything you do but i dont see you together most of the time. most of the time but the times i doooooo see or hear, seems obvious enough. but im really naive and stuff. re: comparing you and i. no comparison neednt be made. differences, though you pour your head/rt out on unseen wordpad files (not Word cause it points out all your mistakes)

you write poetry and have a zine and reflect on shit outside of tod while i spend my entire writing career on teeohdee i respect and admire what you do with your talent and craft. you make collages while i spend too much time on the internet so while a comparison neednt be made, and i dont make one usually, the truth is i’d say youre far more proactive in your art

I like the title a lot also. it’s something I never would have thought of because I don’t think of words the same way as you and amber do. Davo

I like butterfingers but I don’t eat them often because the stuff sticks in my teeth and I can imagine the tooth decay bacteria dancing around all happy under there. Now I’m thinking about how good they are, though, so I’m going to buy one the next time I’m in the checkout line. Davo

I don’t find it necessary to wash my own wine glass. You just drink water out of it before going to bed (which is a good idea anyway) and then, voila, it’s clean. (I don’t mean clean like to put back in the cupboard for someone else to take, I mean clean enough to leave on the table till I want to drink out of it again.) But then I don’t have roommates to hate. Davo

the only thing I’ve noticed about your diary is that you’re writing more (which I like) and you seem maybe a little pensive/sad, maybe not quite as angry/cynical/sarcastic. You used to talk more about heavy drug use. But then, I’m fairly insensitive and oblivious to subtle personal stuff and most things just go over my head. Davo

I don’t know why you talk about not having sex for a long time, but that’s none of my business. Davo