look at my links! yeah you little muthas. my band has a website. there's not really much there but whatever.

i started talking to jesse yesterday. he's this cool guy matt introduced me to over the summer, but i hadn't seen since. he's cooler than i remember. i can tell that we are gonna be friends.

i can tell that we are gonna be friends.

(a lil' white stripes reference for ya)

you know the bridge to that song is supposed to be like a semi-rap in the tradition of thom yorke (i.e. "A Wolf at the Door", and "Morning Bell" (Amnesiac Version)).

i'm bored, dear god i'm bored.

my mom and i had this fight that started late christmas night and ended yesterday afternoon.

you know, i never realized just how weird edgar allen poe's writings were. he's so imaginative. it's great.

by the way, this thing is driving me insane. i mean i want the lyrics to be really good, but i can't seem to build them past... "poetic with a cheap sense of irony" comes to mind.

(small changes have warpes all the meaning that this thing had had before)

the sun turns around to the cuts on your toes,
i go to sleep and my babies eat my skull,
we shiver by your voice.

come out and shake yourself free.

rats and doves.
my babies eat with pearly white teeth.

and you come out to find me.

pictures won't take back,
too many cuts on your feet.
the cuts on your feet.
nobody's ever gonna take you back,
with all those cuts on your feet,
the cuts on your feet.

please.
come out and find me.
please.
come out and find me

in their mouths.

merry christmas bitches.

i recieved:
- lots of relatively cool clothes.
- a kickass journal.
- the completed works of edgar allen poe (yay!).
- an ass load of sweaters.
- an ass load of boxers. (which i really need)
- an ass load of socks. (which i really really need)
- a lava lamp (and it only took six years of rather unenthusiastic begging).
- a total of 85$.
- a box filled with coal.
- the matrix on dvd.
- no computer.
- no keyboard.
- no electric guitar.

(both are probably for the best as far as the last three go. my parents wouldn't know what to get at all. too bad they didn't give me enough money to get all that stuff myself.)

all in all, not that bad. as far as plain money went i don't think i broke even this year which is a first. do i have more money now because my parents have less? or are they just cheap? my mom and i are gonna talk about the last items on that list.

oddly enough my siblings faired much better. video games and cd players all around. ~!@n%ooo0o0o 0$^ne llllllo@%veeeees yo4u@!~ no i'm ok with it.

aNd A hApPy NeW yEaR. :)

busy busy busy.

the sun turns around to the cuts on your toes,
shivers by your voice.
i go to sleep and my babies eat my skull,
we shiver by your voice.

i think your lovely.
pretty as a gun.

come out and shake yourself free.

rats and,
doves.

my babies eat with pearly whites.

i think you're lovely.
pretty like a gun.

come out and find me.

pictures won't take back,
too many cuts on your feet.
the cuts on your feet.
nobody's ever gonna take you back,
with all those cuts on your feet,
the cuts on your feet.

now i've run away.
now i've turned away.
come out and find me.

- i've been going through changes. :)

i went to driver's ed for six hours and have to come back for new years eve.

i proceeded to the over eat and sleep for three hours.

a pleasantly monotonous day.

so i'm writing the lyrics to this song. and i'm kind of stuck for three reasons.

a. i accidently erased part of the tape i'm using (instrumental already recorded).

b. i don't understand the song. i don't know what it's about, i can't pin down any sort of emotion i'm trying to evoke. except maybe confusion, sarcasm, or regret. no positives.

c. i want to start over from scratch, but it's difficult because i think i've been writing the same thing for the past few weeks. going through journals, and my "poetry" and even blog entries, i've found a lot of my stuff has striking simmilarities. either something about pigs or rats or kids that gnaw on parts of my body. i'm always addressing some nameless girl directly in the second person. it's all kinda weird. i thinkg i really need to write this what ever and flush it out of my system.

in fact, that is just what i plan to do.

who says posting your innermost thoughts to a faceless and mostly non-existant audience didn't have it's rewards?

the kiddies gnaw at the base of my skull,
snap at my toes.
and you like the cuts they put to our feet,
and how they shiver by your voice.

i think your lovely.
pretty with a gun.

come out and shake yourself free.

rats and,
doves.

my babies eat with pointy white teeth.
their souls never knew to run.

lovely.
pretty with a gun.

come out and find me.

pictures won't take back,
too many cuts on your feet.
the cuts on your feet.

nobody's ever gonna take you back,
with all those cuts on your feet,
the cuts on your feet.

come out and find me.
come out and find me.
come out and find me.

-what i have so far.

*sigh*, where do we go from here?

dear god, today rocked.

i get to eric's house and everyone's there (everyone being Eric, Tre, and this awesome guy named Perry). so we sit there and listen to this track they've recorded which turns out to be really amazing, Tre and Eric start teaching Perry the bass, i sit there horribly afraid of touching a guitar (i'm a horribly horribly mediocre guitar player). but it's cool, because a. i'm apparantly pretty competent with the suggestions and b. no lyrics for said song! so i'm working on lyrics, and they're working on parts, and i suggest something but mostly sit there and nod.

then we listen to "creep" (radiohead circa 1994 or so), and we decide that's the final song we're gonna do for open mic night, and tre figures it out and i get to go through it (even though my voice keeps cracking at the end). then we take a look at Perry's effect thingy and Eric's Sonar 3 program, and both are beautiful, and i realize that i need to start buying some equipment and earn my keep. maybe i should get aroung to buying that keyboard, get a program i can use to compose some cool ambient filler and stuff.

i should also work on getting a PA thingy. but i really need my own computer. nothing fancy..

anyway, i'm terribly excited. no one was too critical of my voice. (so no one was at all critical of my voice, just wait until the honeymoon's over.) fun.

need more money!

i think i may have broken my sister...

but only emotionally.

it's beginning to look a lot like christmas.

exams are done and done. i'm so happy.

so i'm going to eric's house just for fun. we're gonna play around, him me tre some other dude. write stuff, see if my voice'll fit in.

i'm terribly frightened. i don't know how good of a musician any of these people are. at least with evan i've always known pretty much exactly what i was getting.

and the inferiority complex sets in.

i like sock puppets and exmodels.

justify my love.

it's all done.

relief.

first exams went well but i have the double whammy chem and GoPo tomorrow. panic. serious panic.

in lighter news, i saw joe today. it's been a while. same old joe.

i was waiting outside of broughton for reasons that make me angry to think about when i saw him. we went to a nearby mcdonalds and found kelsea, tyler (jesus) and randy: three people who i've found somewhat intimidating until now (especially kelsea). i still don't know why. they're cool though.

you know, this snippet of sound kept going through my brain. it sounded like thom yorke singing "you fell into my arms" over and over again. i went through all my mp3's and couldn't find anything like that, so i assumed it was my imagination and decided to write a song accompanying said hook.

yet low and behold here it is (and i really liked my song too):

"backdrifts"

we're rotten fruit
we're damaged goods
what the hell we've got nothing more to lose
one burst and we will probably crumble

we're backdrifting
this far but no further
i'm hangin goff a branch
i'm teetering on a breaker
honey sweets so fall asleep

i'm backsliding

you fell into our arms
you fell into our arms
we tried but there was nothing we could do
nothing we could do

all evidence has been buried
all tapes have been erased
but your footsteps give you away
so you're backtracking

oh oh oh

you fell into our arms
you fell into our arms
we tried but there was nothing we could do
nothing we could do

we're rotten fruit
we're damaged goods
what the hell we've got nothing more to lose
one burst and we will probably crumble
we're backdrifters.

-radiohead.

thom yorke is living testament to what i will never achieve.

recap...

i won second place in the poetry contest. woot.

midterms begin tomorrow. i am unprepared yet i remain at peace.

(i'm a mutha fuckin' rockstar)

driver's ed sucked. i'm not done, and will not be done until Wednesday. possibly not until after christmas.

money likes the sound of my name, but deth monster doesn't.

the driver's ed teacher is a bitch.

according to my plans i should have been in bed two hours ago.

one my favorite teacher's daughter died last week. she was like six years old, and from the three times i saw her seemed like she would turn out to be the coolest cats ever.

when i get frustrated, i have noticed that i hit my legs really hard, and my lip twitches.

i have an all new shakespeare anthology as of item number one.

i'm composing a piece for a semi friend. it's difficult and especially difficult not to feel like such a pretentious amateur. it's my first real piece so is therefore inevitably doomed to suck.

writing has paused.

so has all work with my electronica stuff.

(foaming at the mouth)

i think i may have impressed a few of the people i have always wanted to impress.

my step-dad is still an ass.

most of my friends are still asses (the lovable kind)

i'm supposed to be learning/eventually performing two or three incredibly silly songs.

at the risk of sounding like an asshole wannabe cynic, the christmas spirit has seemed to die for me. or maybe it never arrived. it just doesn't feel like christmas. i miss that...sorta.

(don't push me)

the conpiracy theorist in me has been scratching at the insides of my skull.

i begin to fear for my sanity, but all worries and scars remain superficial.

...and you will know us by the trail of dead is my band for the moment.

radiohead close second.

i haven't listened to kenna much since that horrible review in pitchfork. my two loves collide in an ideological battle of wills. :(

i need to learn to form my own (preferrably informed) opinions.

i just know i spelled preferably wrong.

(oh well)

listening to good music makes me increasingly happy.

so does finding good poetry.

so does siddartha (herman hesse).

i am incredibly impressed with the writing of andrew gilroy (friend at school).

i am a fool.

GoPo will eat my skull.

happiness is endless.

nothing will live, nothing will prosper.

i fear the ferrets finally, really do know where i live.

the prospect of slowly yet diligently working through the complete works of shakespeare, as unmethodically, and as ignorantly as i can begins to excite me. maybe i will see what so many others seem to see.

i still wanted the edgar allen poe prize.

damn it.

i fear that this will all come to a close.

everything comes to a close.

yay!

fear may not be smart, may not be healthy, but it is essential.

you are essential.

love.

see ya later. alligator.

i'm taking driver's ed.
it will all be over...soon.

i've been writing this score of music, but i have know idea what it sounds like because i can't clay anything well enough to hear it. here's hoping those music theory principles don't lead me astray. (it's in Ab major, nice stuff.)

panic.

writing isn't improving, but there is more of it. there really is a much better version of that song.

eh. screw you too.