:: 2005 21 April :: 12.33 pm
:: Mood: efficient
:: Music: Greentrials, Rented Clothes
[ edit | delete ]
Tsunami Relief Concert
Saturday, May 7th @ WRA
5-9 PM Front Field
Ecliptic: cannot spell, has gimmicky letter Y placed at some unfortunate location in their moniker, thus requiring an extra twenty minutes of rubber stamping after i flattened the godforsaken concert poster.
Amadeus: has an inferiority complex masked by annoying demands, delaring seniority priveleges left and right now that freshman Eclyptic won the cleveland high school rock off last year; refuses to drive self to show or use commoner port-o-potties.
Motive: [Quote] “Hi everyone, i’m clayton of Moore and i come from a daint little establishment called Hudson, Ohio. In this town I have been playing music since the grade of four. The instruments I have been playing are the bass guitar, cello, and the acoustic guiatr. while i play these instruents I enjoy writing songs with my good pals Zack and Bryan. Our music is very different in the sense we don’t really play real music, we think it… you see we are so smart we don’t even know how to play music we create it in our minds. This has brought a problem to us however, no one can hear our beautiful melodies. So we kill them.”
PikachuMilk: actually can you just put our logo cause its mega sweet
(Richard Flemming needs no further explanation, i assume. they are some kids with ultralocal celebrity and they all say hullo.)
i have stopped noting anniversaries. example: two years ago, seven hundred and thirty times twenty four (give or take a few in prague), i was in ross’s kitchen, sitting on the counter, watching him inhale N20 from reddi-whip cans, waiting for the stock market crash of 2003. chemicals are weird: hippie crack, rocket fuel oxidiser, and whipped cream foamer, all in one. i am remembering now that i left my favorite black shirt somewhere in beaver creek, and i have been looking for it ever since.
there is a ned quote that i would like to use here but i never knew it by heart, just – the idea. of ned.
i want to go to wesleyan. i want to go to school with film students and alexandra verville in particular. i want this man sean mccann to be my teacher, because he wrote Gumshoe America: Hard-Boiled Crime Fiction and the Rise and Fall of New Deal Liberalism.
today, after school, as i’ll do all the other days after school, i am going to sit at the corner window table in caribou and work. for the first time at reserve, i do not have head-pressure toe flexing homework horror- the only thing i can compare that to is the feeling of absolutely needing to shut yourself into a closet, and your father refusing to let you. it is that sort of brain ache. but it is gone, and i feel like i should be wearing a goddamned suit, because everything is easy again. still, though, i am not sure what to do with myself – my body feels gangly and awkward in the presence of that one kid, as if there wasn’t any space in which to fold up myself or remain confident in gravity. i just don’t understand him and i wanted to try.
relax. (it’s over.)
rachel: i need a drink
rachel: NEED it
lucy: sigh
lucy: et moi aussi
lucy: i would actually not be adverse to amaretto
rachel: me either…not at this point
cherry chapstick and almond-flavored cookies make us queasy, along with the U.S. AP, which is on may sixth.
(screw supporting local business – coffee on main serves terrible food and absymal coffee, and the owner is a total jerk.)
