Monday, February 5th, 2001 | 20:55
Lists and lyrics

I've been listening to a lot more Silverchair lately. I finally have my mp3 player installed once again and with it came many hours of goodness.

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It has been brought to my attention that I update considerably less than I once did. On the other hand, I have been working quite´┐Ż*gasp* responsibly in school lately. I think I can deal with a few less updates.

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Things to find/buy:

Sew-on/iron-on letters. (for intended "Corporate Whore" t-shirt)

My gloves. (hopefully at OC Transpo lost and found, which is supposedly downtown)

Everclear CD "Songs From an American Movie: Vol. 1: Learning How To Smile". (I will probably end up buying a new copy)

A new calendar. (2000 version was taken down yesterday)

My glasses. (I forgot they were mine when Anjali went home wearing them.)

My (father's) Buck knife. (I haven't seen it in almost four months)

My thin (0.46mm) and ultra-thick (1mm) nylon guitar picks. (My sister was in my room with her friends on Friday, screwing around with everything. They also dropped a lit candle into my recycle box. I wasn't too happy.)

Good candles. (thick ones that smell like goodness)

My (father's) green and brown wool sweater. (It was washed three weeks ago and has been hiding ever since)

Driving lessons (kick me and then remind me to get my frickin' G1)

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Things to get repaired/looked at:

Guitar. (intonation has been off for months and it's driving me crazy. I've fiddled around and still nothing.)

Headphones. (The right earphone very frequently stops working for brief periods of time.)

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There is a dream I used to have. My dream swallowed me whole. There is a bridge where I hate to go. That is where I first saw her. High on the bridge I see her red hair shining. There is a girl I never knew. She was my Aunt Virginia. They say that she, she just disappeared. They said I look just like her. High on the bridge I see her dancing, waving to me there. She smiled and raised her head then she took to the air. There is a dream I can't escape. My memories come back to me. There is a hell that I can't escape. My memories come back to me. I heard the truth about it. Pictures and headlines hidden away. I heard the truth about my real mom jumping from the bridge that day. Now I know why ever since I was 3 years old, been having the same nightmare. Now I know the truth about Virginia, why she took to the air.

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So far, the "Oh shit, that is hot" burnt-tongue-o-meter is at three for the day

One: Spicy fries from the cafeteria

Two: McCain Pizza Pockets (really disgusting too!)

Three: Homemade pizza (burnt by Michael)

Burned-finger-o-meter reads one (sustained taking burnt pizza out of oven)

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We have been sleeping with the lights on just about every night, because we are afraid what the dark might bring. I know, I know, it's just a childish fear that grows and grows while in the middle of me. I'm gonna get a new tattoo, black and stretching around my arm. Like a life that is visible and real. I know, I know, it's stupid and immature. I just want to give shape to the face that twists inside both you and me. Breathing fire doesn't look good on a resume. Neither does anything else we do. We got to get ready for the real world. Yeah yeah, we got to grow up. You know I like to die for a while everyday in the afternoon. I like to let the arms of a bar wrap around me tight. I'm just going to sprawl in the front booth, big drink above my head. Cross-eyed and smiling as I watch the world go twisting by. I don't want to die with you, or live in the same dark room. I don't want to see your bloodshot eyes no more, no more. I just want to take this girl, all curls and big brown eyes. Man, I can't take the pain of wanting her, needing her. I know the secret of your soul, and I just don't want to know. Yeah man, we got to grow up. Yeah, we got to grow up. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to. I can't take it. I give up. -Everclear (The Twistinside)

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What else can I write?

I don't have the right. -Nirvana (All Apologies)

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sustain

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