Currently Reading The Motorcycle Diaries By Ernesto Che Guevara see related

        28 million rotten eggs, found, destroyed; Eugene Whelan will be called to resign.  Caffeine and Nicotine, stewed and simmered into one cup. It would explain the fancy of coffee every morning, or the need to have the steam cover your teeth, catching the tips and buzzing with the sound of energy and sugar. Corn Shucking, small town,  with nutri-grain bars in one hand, biting into store processed jam frozen into bars, you are blazed, eyes red, head back, hands on the green, pulling corn out of fields. Touching stems, licking raspberry coated sesame seeds from your fingers. Dry with the force of leaves slipping through your young hands, dry with the feeling of hay through your fingers, no sweat, just head steam.   No lies, just love. No powder, just organic organic chemistry, No baked lean cuisines with slush from the sides, no dry mr.noodles cans with compressed beef and curled celery, just the smell of corn, on your skin, on your lips, on your finger.  Your hairs shiny, it smells like grass, lemonade and herbal fruit, tied up using string, your pants aren’t dirty, your nails are trimmed, your socks have the words “circulation is good for your body” printed on them.  It was cool when you bought it, but not so much now, a year later, when all you do all day is dream of days on an empty field with the blue blue sky falling into your plain white T’s.

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              Snow and Laundry. I really want it to snow. not so much for the cold, because I hate cold, but how I cant wait to see blankets of powdery fluff covering the campus giving me the excuse to look wintery and buy more mugs and make tea in the morning and wash my clothes with a new type of detergent. In all honesty, I love winter. Its is blue and white and silver and probably warmer than summer. Summers just hot

Currently Listening The Eraser By Thom Yorke see related

 i left home.im trying to find a new one in this capital city of trees and parliament and kids in red. Carleton University. we'll see, i guess. If my predictions were right, and if anything made sense at all.

goodluck. to myself, and probably anyone else who needs it. fucking everyone.

Currently Listening Puccini - Tosca / Kabaivanska, Domingo, Milnes, Luccardi, Mariotti, Bartoletti see related

   14 days. 14 days and I’m gone, 14 days and this isn’t my home, 14 days and I wake up in another room, 14 days till I do what I’ve been waiting to do my entire life. I’m trying to recreate a picture of the future, the one I saw a while back when I was working on that psychology paper way back in December. When I walked home at night in the snow with Hansen from Kevin’s house after gold digger videos went to shit, and the snow filled our lungs and the buses never pulled in. When the war sheets on Vietnam we had to study for social became the papers we both read and caught flakes on. I am in limbo. I’ve left and will never leave.

 I’m trying to pack but it’s hard. I cleared shit up from the top half of my closet and already found a starbucks Kleenex with Jones soda song lyrics the 4 of us wrote a long while back on a sunny day in April 2007, I found Trents right sock from the nights we all snuck out to go to Sherwood and sleep under abandoned houses, I found Sue’s hair tie, A receipt for a pack of du Maurier’s that Joe bought and left in my room, Smirnoff cooler bottle caps, a sheet of paper where we wrote our life plans, a picture of Flora’s basement, Art Bonus pictures from grade 9 that Harold drew, a pack of pencils Louis gave me when I was 12, a hockey puck from last year, gum packets, notes, notes, notes, letters, memories, obnoxious and overwhelming flooding from the cd’s I’ve listened to, the cracks of the drawers, the papers behind each book, the fragrance of scarves only worn on certain days, the pockets of red sweaters you only wore in junior high.

  My two best friends are both leaving tomorrow. One to Quebec, one to Los Angeles. There are things I’m trying to grasp, and the only thoughts that come into my head is piling square rocks on top of each other 5 years ago to try and break into Vivian’s balcony, and watching something resembling anime porn in a living room without knowing what episode 18 was, walking back from Baines through the ravine, a campaign for presidency, a ‘future so bright you gotta wear shades’. Trying to grasp emotion under the dim light of a lamp, Christmas cards, mixes, and music and mixes and music, and words that tumble out of our sleeves to grow into versions of ourselves. I think we’ll all be okay if that’s what’s supposed to happen. I think we’ll come back and be the best we can be. I’m not ready to write this entry. You can tell. So I’m going to stop. Goodbye kids. when we return, things will both have entirley changed and not changed at all. the best i can hope for, is that we all grow and remain as kids forever. So please, Fuck some shit up.

Currently Reading A Practical Guide to Racism By C. H. Dalton see related

SuperSunnySpeedGraphic

     August 1st. In Between days. New Layout.

Time flies, we sleep, wake up, tree's grow, buildings get rundown and rebuilt, pavements are walked across, clouds shift, reassemble, shampoo bottles run empty, re-filled, re-stocked, cd's scratch, outlines fade, colors darken, and so quickley, slowly, sweetley, we change.