the scene is dead

months pass, it’s already October. almost the holidays. when I’ll go home and make small talk with a bunch of members of my extended family that don’t really know me. and I’ll laugh and wish the wine was more bitter than sweet. in November I’ll be real fucking busy at work. I’ll groom a million dogs and make some more small talk with rich costumers who still don’t tip me even though I cut them a deal.

then there is today, tomorrow, the next day and the day after that. the yeah yeah yeahs concert. a cocaine induced goodtime, a screeching voice belted over a crowd of a million phoenix hipsters druggies jr high kids indierockers antilabelers abusers smartkids fuckups all coming together to scream out the lyrics and just until your legs are numb. I’m excited. lose yourself or whatever, something lame like that.

relationship troubles bring big fat warm tears that fall out of my eye and onto my black lace shirt or onto the pale yellow counter top and she says hurtful things because I DO hurtful things and we still cant seem to sleep apart. she slurs her words, "take your dogs and leave", and everything is real fucking cinematic. she says she’s sorry in the morning, she was drunk, mad, fed up. and I’m. I don’t know. being pulled from all sides and still can’t find my center. need a yoga video. a metaphysics book. need a god or some spirituality to ease me down, or maybe it would be lift me up.

she’s right, I have no direction. I can’t finish anything. I can’t make her cum, I can’t finish a story, write something worth it, make it to class, get as drunk as they are. I’m half way there. all the time.

the new third roommate has moved in. her name is renee and she just spent two week Europe doing drugs and meeting cool new people. I tell her I’m jelous and she says I should be. her stuff is in the shower and I always forget where it came from. who uses bed head? oh yeah.

went to lunch with jane and ernie and his sister. they talked about cell phones. I ordered a really big beer. ate a fat cheeseburger and wanted to throw it up. his sister is like "oh my god my chemistry class is sooo stupid, all she does is show us stuff on power point." so she cuts it a lot because she "doesnt get it" so naturally the proper thing to do is to not show up.

not that I should talk. at least I admit to myself that I’m a fuck-up and don’t like to sugar coat it with some rich fancy sweet coating that makes me look better or something. ernie is not all bad. he likes the golden girls. he has a cute smile and cute hair. a sweet boy at heart really, a little tortured by some stupid mtv culture that he feels he has to conform with. I’d have his babies.

drank too much beer today, too many calories. went to the casino with jane because she forced me to with prompts like "lets go to the casino!!" and I say "no, jane" and then she says "lets go to the casino!!" and repeat a million times until I give in and lose eight dollars. and the bartender says "first time?" everytime we go and everytime we say "yeah" even though it’s not. and there are a lot of old people with fanny packs and long faces, losing their retirement fund, eating out for breakfast lunch and dinner.

go to a music store and buy the ‘we are scientists’ cd. almost buy the secret machines cause it’s cheaper but I want the other one more. sacha’s right, I’m selfish. jane buys the new killers album, out today, we blast it in her car and I feel like driving fast on some high road on some ocean front property that my dad has taken me to before. watch the windsurfers, think of you.