2001-07-17 - 4:18 p.m.
One month already? My, where does the time go? Oh, yeah, it drags on and on and on. At least there's less than 40 days until school resumes. That is something to look forward to.
I never cease to be amazed at the stupid things people (most notably stupid people) say in attempts to be witty and smartassed (and yes, I am including myself in that blanket statement, although I must say that I've noticed that I have a much better track record of actually prompting good humored laughter than some of the people whose antics prompted me to make said blanket statement.) Even more than that, I am continually perplexed by their reactions to their non-funniness. Either they act like I'm the dumb one for not thinking their lame humor is funny, or they just don't believe that no one else gets the joke, which is actually funnier than anything they could say. Stupid people are funny sometimes. Just sometimes, though.
I had to ditch an univited, unwanted houseguest earlier this afternoon. I felt bad, but what are you going to do? Luckily, I had Wej to help me with a clever ploy. Still nearly ruined my afternoon off.
"You know what I really want in a girl? Me." Sorry, that was crude, but the Bloodhound Gang is on the stereo right now.
My birthday is this Saturday. I don't really wanna think about it.
Yes, I had a wonderful time over the weekend. I got to try a new sport that hurt a lot, and I got to share sevearl romantic moments with Tammy, including a moonlight walk on a pier, complete with dangling our feet into the water and lying side by side under the stars and talking about deeply personal stuff, holding hands the whole time. It was one of those moments, that, were I a man inclined to write cliched, sissy-wussy-mushy-sappy garbage, I would describe as the kind where I wished time could stand still forever, and I would be happy to be like that for the rest of my life. And then the bugs started gnawing on us, and we realized it was time to go in.
I've taken to retreating into music a lot to escape from how much I miss certain things and people in my life. Jon would be proud of me. I keep my headphones on so loud that I can't hear cars passing right next to me on the street. I no longer care if anyone else can see me dancing to it, or hear me singing along. Sometimes I wish people with me would go away so I could play some music and dance (and by dance, I mean have a dumb white guy seizure. You've all seen me dance.) and sing myself hoarse (love them vocal nodes. Maybe if I develop them, I can pursue a real career without feeling like I've abandoned my dream. That way, I can still say I'm an actor.) I swear, the seperation is killing me. And I miss my mommy. And I wanna be in a play. And I wanna horsey, and a Red Rider BB Gun, and Paul Heyman's head on a pole, and...Hey, where are you going, Satan? I mean, Santa?
I had a really perfect workout yesterday. I wasn't wasted, cause I could play hackey sack with Wej later that night, but I did everything I had on my agenda, and I didn't feel fat afterward, like I hadn't actually put work into it. I actually didn't feel fat for the rest of the day. Which was good, cause it beats my old strategy of feeling thin by hanging out with people much fatter than me, namely Marlon Brando and Brook Compton (Brook is such a cow. My god. he looks like he could use some form of anorexia.)
Speaking of Mr. Brando, he actually appears to have lost a bit of weight. Still not as cut as he was in Streetcar, but he's not his own island anymore. Guess my constant making fun of his weight problems finally motivated him to do something. I shouldn't tease him about his weight so much. I mean, if that isn't the pot calling Marlon Brando fat, I don't know what is...
I miss Bob. I wish I could hear from Bob more often. I guess maybe my story scared Bob off. I know it was bad. But I make no apologies.
"Performance piece?" I don't know what the hell you mean by that, Jon? My whole life is a performance piece, and it would be meaningless, even to me, if no one was there to give me a standing ovation. Honestly, though, how many of us can honestly say that isn't the case for them, at least to a small degree? SHow of hands, anyone?
Just cause I may be a bit drunk doesn't mean I can't still be sickened by and/or make fun of the annoying sorority girls telling everyone within earshot how blitzed they are. Some people just excercise better taste when they're under the influence of things, and avoid making other people ill.
Dinner time.
Ken
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