boredom...the same old endless monotony that runs my world. i can't seem to shake this feeling of insecurity. i'm afraid, and I don't know of what. *sigh* maybe it's paranoia, or just existential angst. i'm not sure. i feel lost, i feel alone, i feel empty. and tired.
nate and i went to pittsburgh yesterday. i got a new deck for my skate board. it's a 'zero'. hehe, typical i guess. i cut out black flag bars in the grip tape, it's interesting to say the least. i can't wait for summer, but at the same time i'm secretly dreading it. the summer brings break, relaxation, shows, fun, green mohalks, piercings, and ill be 18 this summer. but i got a job the other day, and i hope it doesn't interfere with all of my summer fun. i also know that is so hot during the summer. but all and all i'm looking forward to it.
i dyed my girl friends hair today at robert's, it was about to her shoulders and black, but after i was done it was short, bubble gum pink (now red), and liberty spiked. she looks gorgeous. i love her hair like that.we didn't have any knox to put her hair up so i had to use wood glue, and hair spray.
today we went to club laga to see blanks 77 along with sixer + the macarthy commission. 6er was ok, and macarthy sounded like normal, and blanks were really good. they cover my shernoa, but mike blank only knew part of the 1st verse and the chorus, it was still hilarious. i saw lots of old friends, chris watson, drunk mike, pogo, mike doc, bill, etc, etc, etc... but mike doc (amanda's skinhead boy friend) wanted to kill chris watson (the 'punkest man alive')...
Read: blanks 77 plays laga »
just sitting there waiting, nervously, anxiously, dreading it's arivial, yet at the same time delighted to know that it'll all be over soon. i look over at geoff, his face is pale, expression blank, and his eyes turned inward, as if he was deep in thaught. i laughed, just to break the tention of the forboading silence that incounpased the room. "lemmie' hit that." i asked as geoff handed me his ciggerette. i took a long drag, untill i could feel the paper burning my fingers
Read: leaving a friend behind »
sitting in my car, the windows half down, the smoke slowly rising, dancing, being chased from my sight out the window. the annoying clatter of my broken windshield wipers as they clamor across my glossy window. the rain slowly dripping down and splattering across the window. constantly dripping, and sliding between other drips, and merging with other, only to be swept or smeared away by the totalitarian force of the wipers. every so often though, a drip of two make it between the wipers