Tuesday, December 31, 2002
SK called. I like when he does. It has impeccable timing. Being vague is my new hobby.
"I felt like a real writer when I put my laptop outside of the bathtub and started typing away."
~James Iha
Alright, I’ve decided again to have a zine. I’m looking for YOU to help me. I need writers. I need some content folks and I can’t do it all myself. I need names. Right now this is what it’s called:
The Special Patrol Group
(Do you know a zine by that name that already exists? Let me know. Thanks)
I’m looking for poetry. Prose. Illustrations. Photography. Everything. Email me your stuff now!! Skapunk13@alloymail.com. I need to let off steam. What about you? Rants, ramblings, and idle dribble accepted. It takes all kinds. I’m really interested in having a focus around music, so if that’s your thing…GOOD GOOD GOOD. I need it. I want it. I am here to display your work. It should hit about two cities, possibly more if I send copies to friends. Boston. Dallas. Olympia. Seattle. If a certain nice little SK could do me a sweet little favor…well, he’s got the shows and I’ve got the “goods.”
I’m waiting for things to settle down. Shouldn’t I feel comfortable at home? I don’t. Where is home? Why aren’t I at home? I’m lost. I need someone to come grab my hand and lead me to where I’m supposed to be. I need a pep talk. I need Diana “yes men” to follow me around nodding to help further my denial. I’ve started to spend too much time in Hot Topic. I dyed my hair blue again. Blue, green, and purple. I was in the grocery store today and a girl said, “She has blue hair!” Great, finally noticed. Also, in the bookstore today someone said, “That’s what my hair was supposed to look like.” I’m looking for a good tattoo place. Let’s get tattoos and start a band. *laughs* If I could only sing. I’m meant to do something with music. How can someone love something so passionately and just completely ignore it? What is my passion? Where is my destination? I am on a mission to stop soul searching and just start trusting how things fall around me. I’m going to succumb to the misery and let it sink deep within my bones. Let’s watch as I stick my head in the oven. Nothing and everything makes me sad. Nothing works out and I’m pretty tired of just breezing by and not making sense of everything. It all goes by so fast and I can’t ever catch the coattails.
It’s good that I don’t know how to drive. I would go head first into a wall and end this forever. NO. I’m all talk folks. I like to romanticize the thoughts of suicide. I’ll never let myself end it because frankly I enjoy the pain. Actually, I don’t feel anything anymore. One second…contentment…the next second…I feel nothing. It’s the nothing feeling that I hate the most. I see all these amazing things happen around me. I sit and I do…nothing. I feel like the biggest loser and only I can make the difference. Why am I scared to do anything? That’s where the yes men come into play.
I’m waiting for someone to make sense of this nonsense. Each day I’m falling more into my head. Soon, it will be all imagination and no reality. That’s when they’ll lock me up and you’ll have to feed me mushed up carrots through tubes. I’ll sleep and maybe you’ll visit.
This is sad because I don’t know what I believe anymore. I feel like sometimes I don’t know what I actually believe anymore. I just feel this “blahness” seeping in and I don’t like it and then I have the obsessions that make me feel like not losing it. Robots. Dr. Who. Music. The Young Ones. Mods. Vespas. Sugar cookies. Hipsters. Bohemians. Indie rockers. It all begins to make sense but I can’t make sense of myself. I live through you because I can’t live through me. I AM LOST. Come dig me out. Kay…thanks…bye.
You and I are something that will never be. I might like you as a figment of my imagination. Are you actually real? *pinch* I am. I wish you were here to be with me. It might make sense. I don’t know why.
Pick numbers. I’m not letting anyone else in anymore. Fight for last call as I’m going fast into the mindset of insanity. Better get here before it’s too late.
¶ 12:09 AM
|
"I felt like a real writer when I put my laptop outside of the bathtub and started typing away."
~James Iha
Alright, I’ve decided again to have a zine. I’m looking for YOU to help me. I need writers. I need some content folks and I can’t do it all myself. I need names. Right now this is what it’s called:
The Special Patrol Group
(Do you know a zine by that name that already exists? Let me know. Thanks)
I’m looking for poetry. Prose. Illustrations. Photography. Everything. Email me your stuff now!! Skapunk13@alloymail.com. I need to let off steam. What about you? Rants, ramblings, and idle dribble accepted. It takes all kinds. I’m really interested in having a focus around music, so if that’s your thing…GOOD GOOD GOOD. I need it. I want it. I am here to display your work. It should hit about two cities, possibly more if I send copies to friends. Boston. Dallas. Olympia. Seattle. If a certain nice little SK could do me a sweet little favor…well, he’s got the shows and I’ve got the “goods.”
I’m waiting for things to settle down. Shouldn’t I feel comfortable at home? I don’t. Where is home? Why aren’t I at home? I’m lost. I need someone to come grab my hand and lead me to where I’m supposed to be. I need a pep talk. I need Diana “yes men” to follow me around nodding to help further my denial. I’ve started to spend too much time in Hot Topic. I dyed my hair blue again. Blue, green, and purple. I was in the grocery store today and a girl said, “She has blue hair!” Great, finally noticed. Also, in the bookstore today someone said, “That’s what my hair was supposed to look like.” I’m looking for a good tattoo place. Let’s get tattoos and start a band. *laughs* If I could only sing. I’m meant to do something with music. How can someone love something so passionately and just completely ignore it? What is my passion? Where is my destination? I am on a mission to stop soul searching and just start trusting how things fall around me. I’m going to succumb to the misery and let it sink deep within my bones. Let’s watch as I stick my head in the oven. Nothing and everything makes me sad. Nothing works out and I’m pretty tired of just breezing by and not making sense of everything. It all goes by so fast and I can’t ever catch the coattails.
It’s good that I don’t know how to drive. I would go head first into a wall and end this forever. NO. I’m all talk folks. I like to romanticize the thoughts of suicide. I’ll never let myself end it because frankly I enjoy the pain. Actually, I don’t feel anything anymore. One second…contentment…the next second…I feel nothing. It’s the nothing feeling that I hate the most. I see all these amazing things happen around me. I sit and I do…nothing. I feel like the biggest loser and only I can make the difference. Why am I scared to do anything? That’s where the yes men come into play.
I’m waiting for someone to make sense of this nonsense. Each day I’m falling more into my head. Soon, it will be all imagination and no reality. That’s when they’ll lock me up and you’ll have to feed me mushed up carrots through tubes. I’ll sleep and maybe you’ll visit.
This is sad because I don’t know what I believe anymore. I feel like sometimes I don’t know what I actually believe anymore. I just feel this “blahness” seeping in and I don’t like it and then I have the obsessions that make me feel like not losing it. Robots. Dr. Who. Music. The Young Ones. Mods. Vespas. Sugar cookies. Hipsters. Bohemians. Indie rockers. It all begins to make sense but I can’t make sense of myself. I live through you because I can’t live through me. I AM LOST. Come dig me out. Kay…thanks…bye.
You and I are something that will never be. I might like you as a figment of my imagination. Are you actually real? *pinch* I am. I wish you were here to be with me. It might make sense. I don’t know why.
Pick numbers. I’m not letting anyone else in anymore. Fight for last call as I’m going fast into the mindset of insanity. Better get here before it’s too late.
¶ 12:09 AM
|
