We Are The Dead

Z-Z-Z-Z-Z-ZACK A-A-A-A-ATTACK

2004-12-09T03:35:00.000-05:00

I am sitting in Zacharia's room. It is fun. I am drunk LET"S START THE FUN

So dtoday I was sitting in my sculpture class and I wrote a poem. It was very angry. I liked it.

Visiting Westport

2004-09-28T07:30:00.000-04:00

Andrew Largeman : You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone.
Sam : I still feel at home in my house.
Andrew Largeman : You'll see when you move out it just sort of happens one day one day and it's just gone. And you can never get it back. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. I mean it's like this right of passage, you know. You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for you kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.

Uh - Quoi?

2004-08-17T17:36:00.000-04:00

"We Are Hungry Men"

[spoken]
Here is the news
According the latest world population survey
The figures have reached danger point, my god
London 15 million 75 thousand
New York 80 million
Paris 15 million and 30
China 1000 million
Billington-Spa: lots

My studies include suffragy
I formed my own society
To study the power of fecundity
The world will overpopulate
Unless you claim infertility
So who will buy a drink for me, your Messiah

[CHORUS]
We are not your friends
We don't give a damn for what you're saying
We're here to live our lives
I propose to give the pill
Free of charge to those that feel
That they are not infertible
The crops of few, the cattle gun
There's only one way to linger on
So who will buy a drink for me, your
Messiah

[CHORUS]
[spoken]
Achtung, achtung, these are your orders
Anyone found guilty of consuming more than their
allotted amount of air
Will be slaughtered and cremated
One only cubic foot of air is :
I have prepared a document, legalising mass abortion
We will turn a blind eye to infanticide

[CHORUS]
You don't seem to hear me clear
Do I talk about your sphere?
Let me explain my project dear
Show you how I'll save the world
Or let it die within the year
Why do you look that way at me, your messiah

[CHORUS]
We are hungry men
We don't give a damn for what you're saying
We're here to eat you

Come on.... Take Me Out

2004-08-15T16:44:00.001-04:00

Only 13 days until I finally leave suburban hell. 13. 13. God damn. Okay, okay, less than 2 weeks. I can survive, I can survive... maybe...

AHHHHHHHHHH!

Come on.... Take Me Out

2004-08-15T16:44:00.000-04:00

Only 13 days until I finally leave suburban hell. 13. 13. God damn. Okay, okay, less than 2 weeks. I can survive, I can survive... maybe...

AHHHHHHHHHH!

Many Mumbling Mice Were Making Merry Music in the Moonlight - Mighty NIce

2004-08-10T12:13:00.000-04:00

I love Modest Mouse, I love Isaac Brock, I want to marry the entire band. I had an amazing time last night. It is so refreshing attending a concert when the people are there with you for the music and not the hit singles. It was amazing amazing amazing.

to cap off the night: The Prettiest Star

2004-08-09T00:55:00.000-04:00

Realizing that my foot doesn't taste so good in my mouth...

2004-08-09T00:20:00.000-04:00

Mmm it is at this time that I am given the too common opportunity to wedge my foot from my mouth and present an awkward apology to a good friend of mine whom I accidentally insulted whilst venting about acting this afternoon. I have realized after being firmly put in my place by my often too-eloquent friend that what I said was not only insulting, but incorrect. I apologize for my simplified reduction of the craft of acting to mere glitter and memorization - I know, I know, I know that it is so much more than that. I think perhaps my frustration-based explosion of words came from an afternoon of self-doubt and irritation I fell victim to today whilst frollicking through the Whitney Museum, which by no means is an excuse. I have respected the craft of acting for years and am aware that when it's good, it's good - the issue I have is not with the "undeserved commercial success" of the actor, and I had not meant to speak as a celebrator of the "underdog" positions often reduced to a name in a long list during the credits, and I am aware now that careless word choosing has left that impression. Instead, my heated words are speaking about the discontent I feel towards the reality of modern cinema. I think much of my frustration is not towards acting, it is the need for people to create gods out of humans. And this is where my inability articulate my hostility comes into play. While I suppose I can never put into words what I had originally meant to express, I can do my best to explain that while the art of theatre is surely deserving of celebration, I wonder if perhaps people are too quick to place their admiration in the lap of a pretty face. As I re-read that sentence, I am aware of how off-colored that seems, and that it seems as if I am almost negating my entire attempt at retracting the insulting message I had presented in the prior post, but that is not my intention. I want anyone I insulted, especially Stephanie to know that whatever hurtful thing they might have taken from my original post was never meant. That post was meant as a forum for the hostility I feel towards people that fawn over the magic of celebrity, not towards the actual celebrity, though it is quite clear that I at many times swayed from that intended mesage. Basically, the long and short of it is, I am sorry, and I was wrong, and I am thankful for friends like Stephanie who are able to put me in my place when necessary. Stephanie: please know that I love and respect you and had not meant to hurt you, and certainly wouldn't have placed such feelings in such a public place if I had known that they were so harsh. To be honest, I didn't even review the post before publishing it, and only after reading your comment was able to look back and realize the message presented was not the message I had hoped to portray. I apologize again. I truly am sorry.

Word To Yo Motha

2004-08-08T23:06:00.000-04:00

Why is "in-dye-ted" spelled "in-dick-ted?

2004-08-08T22:55:00.000-04:00

EH?

All the little rose-kissed foxy girls (Shoes, shoes little white shoes) Where have all the flowers gone?

2004-08-08T22:53:00.000-04:00

All the little fragile champion boys (Toys, toys, little black toys) Dripping on the end of a gun

My Sister Is A Wannabe Celebrity Stalker

2004-08-08T20:22:00.000-04:00

My sister reduces herself to the sad level of "celebrity stalker" by pouring over television stations such as E! and MTV and VH1 that feature such fabulous programs as lists of "Smart Blondes" and "The Fabulous Life of..." and so on and so forth. Currently I am suffering through a terribly irritating episode of "The Fabulous Life of..." documenting celebrity spenders and their summer vacations. Wow. I really really really care. Mm-hmm. Now what I wonder is WHAT is the natural desire to watch programs about celebrities? Why do we create such aliens out of mere human beings that do nothing really but memorize a few lines and get tarted up a bit and portray usually asinine characters, all the while, the true genius behind the film is tied to a camera filming the entire event. Why is it that these people that play no real cultural relevance are elevated to such heights? It is more than puzzling. And then these people are paid enormous sums of money and then spend it in lavish ways and with that the celebrity stalking television program is born. It's absurd. Why is it that the writers and artists are mostly starving or dealing with small notoriety as actors are placed on these amazing pedestals? If anything, the people deserving of such success are receiving none and it is almost unfair. The product designers, costume designers, art directors, directors, writers, directors of photography, etc, etc - where is their television program documenting their every move and dollar spent? This society that I have come to both love and hate will never cease to frustrate and amaze me.

Where Have All The Concepts Gone?

2004-08-08T18:50:00.000-04:00

Chuck Klosterman in Spin Magazine this month brought to attention the sad absense of two-part rock anthems in current music, which then caused me to ponder: what else seems to be missing in today's music industry - essentially, what is it that keeps me tied to the pretty lads of the 70s to fill my need for musical satisfaction. It was while drifting in and out of a nap while listening to the epic "Cygnet Committee" that the answer came to me, but we'll get to that in a little while. The disappointment I face daily because of the pitiful garbage mucking up New York radio stations has caused me to longer listen to the radio, resulting in a seemingly cluelessness when it comes to today's musical pop culture. What is it that I am hiding from? Now it could easily be reduced to nonsense like bare midriffs and fake blonde hair, but we're past the days of churned out bubblegum princess pop - it has gone deeper that. We have hit an era where the singer/songwriter is no longer celebrated, and if so, it is not because of talent, but because of sheer amazement - it is as if we are saying "Oh, by jingo! This person is attractive, has a good voice, and is actually SINGING, and not just that - he/she is SINGING words that HE/SHE wrote ALL BY HER/HIMSELF! Well gee golly whiz, that sure is unbelievable! How can a head that pretty contain the brains to write his/her own music?? It seems almost impossible" - WELL IT ISN'T!! Why is it that the youth of today is reduced to appreciated the nonsense that is created by record producers and stylists - sure she's wearing a pretty top and her ass shakes just so, but she's lipsynching words written for her by some little old man hiding in South Dakota - Am I the only one who sees something wrong with this??? What happened to the age when music was celebrated because of it's cultural relevance - We see that skattered throughout our past - the happy jam music celebrating love and peace that decorated the 60s as a response to a corrupted war, the sexual liberation that allowed for boys to get all tarted up and frollick just as well as any lass in the 70s, the response to the "hippy free-love bullshit" that allowed for the cultivation of a harder sound resulting in the creation of such staples of music culture like CBGBs - What do we have to say for ourselves now?? When our children are birthed and grown, will they be holding on to the glory of the old days, shamed by what our generation could create? Now now now I KNOW that it is not to say that all music being made today can be reduced to these atrocious levels, but it seems that those out there still creating good good music of their own, strapping on their own guitar singing their own words are forced to scrap along settling for meagre success, while a pretty angsty guy or a blonde chick with nice tits is sent sky-rocketing to fame. How on earth has this been allowed to happen? To quote a musical genius, "there is crap on American radio" and if we don't do something about it, the talented blokes with something important to say will flounder. This departure from songwriting has allowed for the loss of something else that I miss so dearly: the concept album. If we aren't writing our own music, how can we even begin to create music in a theme? Now I suppose we have departed somewhat from the era that allowed for the birth of the concept album in the 60s and 70s, but it is quite clear that the glitz, glam, and theatre of it all is still ever-present. You would think that the concept album would be easily accepted, I mean, for goodness sake, most of these singers are actors in their own right, staging up their lives for the hype and publicity. What happened to great musicians of the past that allowed for the costume to be their life, flitting from one persona to the next, taking their fans on a crazy ride through sound and vision?? It is truly what I crave for more than anything else. The closest we have come, in my opinion is what I am giving the title: themed writing. While it is not the same, it is fairly similar. It can be seen in the works of Modest Mouse, as well as I am sure many others. What is so great is that there seem to be leitmotifs and themes and repeated images that dance their way through entire albums. Now this is good song writing. Complicated and yet simple, the exploration of odd instruments and sounds, the amalgamation of odd ideas and concepts - this is talent in need of celebration! And yet, yet, they are hardly achieving success as of yet, and that is a sad, sad thing. Hmm well perhaps someday, someday the time will come for music to be a respectable and celebrated industry. For now, I suppose I am going to have to remain trapped in the 70s.

What Was NYU Thinking??

2004-08-08T18:10:00.000-04:00

This year, NYU has decided that great required reading that would allow the little kiddies to bond is a brilliant novel known as October Sky. Hmm. Yes... So, yeah, I have been power-reading this novel for was seems like centuries, and yet, I am only on page 88. Care to stab a guess at how long the awful novel is? Anyone? Anyone? 428 action-packed pages about a kid and his friends that come together with a token nerd to create a rocket. Awww. Now ain't that just swell as peaches?? Mm-hmm. I think I am going to gauge out my eyeballs with the included photo insert. Perhaps that will make the pain stop. I'm off to try to dig a little deeper into this truly amazing story. Uh-huh. Wish me luck. Maybe, if my brain allows, I'll break 100 pages. A girl can dream, can't she??

American Folk Art - What??

2004-08-07T22:30:00.000-04:00

Why Do We Have Pets?

2004-08-07T22:04:00.000-04:00

Why have humans decided to domesticate animals?? Really, really, what on earth is the point?? Why do humans have a natural desire to take something that they can't communicate with, that really don't care about them, that we have to feed for and clean up after - what do they really do? I will tell you what they do. They sit next to you and let you touch them allowing you to believe that something loves you unconditionally, even at your dirtiest and grossest, but, in case you didn't get the memo, IT'S AN ANIMAL AND PROBABLY DOESN'T REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE, EVEN IF IT IS LIVING WITH YOU ALL DAY EVERY DAY! They remember the dependability of you to do what it wants you to do, they remember the scheduled alloted time for each activity, it is all methodical, hardly unconditional. And still we put up with the barking and the defecating and the eating of shoes and the urinating on beds and the this and the that the list is endless - it's almost shameful that we have reduced ourselves to meer servants to animals, most of which are hardly more than 3 feet tall. It's almost sickening.

Muse

2004-08-07T21:26:00.000-04:00

I think I'm drowning
Asphyxiated
I wanna break this spell
That you've created
You're something beautiful
A contradiction
I wanna play the game
I want the friction
You will be the death of me
You will be the death of me
Bury it
I won't let you bury it
I won't let you smother it
I won't let you murder it
Our time is running out
Our time is running out
You can't push it underground
You can't stop it screaming out
I wanted freedom
Bound and restricted
I tried to give you up
But I'm addicted
Now that you know
I'm trapped sense of elation
You'd never dream of
Breaking this fixation
You will squeeze the life out of me
Bury it
I won't let you bury it
I won't let you smother it
I won't let you murder it
Our time is running out
Our time is running out
You can't push it underground
You can't stop it screaming out
How did it come to this?
Ooooohh
You will suck the life out of me
Bury it
I won't let you bury it
I won't let you smother it
I won't let you murder it
Our time is running out
Our time is running out
You can't push it underground
You can't stop it screaming out
How did it come to this?
Ooooohh

Why Am I a Gemini??

2004-08-07T20:37:00.000-04:00

I hate the fact that I am to be forever plagued by my inability to either love or hate something completely - I am forced to forever dance between absolute abhoration and utter devotion simply because I am forever over analyzing the situation from every possible angle. My newest issue: University. For every ounce of my being that is gun-ho on getting there, I am filled with dread and nervousness, sure that I am missing something or forgetting something, and essentially completely unprepared for the next 9 months of my life. Ughhh and I feel like I need to do all these things and do not possess the means to do them. Godddddammmn it. I want to scream, I want to go back in the time and be an efficient person. I am beginning to stress about the fact that I haven't recieved housing information yet, even though I know 3 other people attending NYU that haven't recieved info either. Good grief. And now that I am sitting and trying to access my NYU student email account, I am beginning to wonder if I ever sent in my photo for my ID and if not, then how do I talk to someone about doing that, and where do I get the picture, yadda yadda yadda. Mmm I wish I could turn my brain off sometime. It's never going to happen, but it doesn't hurt to dream. Tut tut tut.

Oh Baby.... I Neeeeeed You.....

2004-08-07T20:17:00.000-04:00

The Good Times Are Killing Me...

2004-08-07T20:00:00.000-04:00

Mmmmm Modest Mouse on MONDAY, August 9th at Hammerstein Ballroom. SO close and yet so far. I am so excited so excited. Good News for People who Like Bad News, Moon & Antartica, and Building Something Out of Nothing are amaaaaazing amazing amazing amazing albums.

Let the Golden Age Begin...

2004-08-07T19:38:00.000-04:00

I am so tired of reading these terrible accounts of thrown out ballots and voters turned away because of political affiliation decided at a glance by appearance. I don't think I have been as stressed as I am now for this November. I hate settling for the lesser of two evils, but I truly believe that this is where I am at this point. How is it that this man is our president - I fear that his actual election this year is eminent, only because the polls are so damn close. I really hope hope hope that someone will work their ass off to make sure that every vote is counted because never has that been more important than now. With the polarization of the population, I feel that this election is going to be a stressful one, and I really feel that Kerry, as much as he is a breath of fresh air from the terrible Christian militant "war President" that we have now, if elected, can he make all of our problems just vanish? How can we take our sad name and make it the glory that it was again with the rest of the world? That, I think, is really among the saddest outcomes of this war that we have been tricked into fighting. We went from being the world power to... to who knows what we are now. It's interesting because I read so many things that are so negative towards Bush, and perhaps it is more that I am ignoring the publications praising our ape-ish President, but I know deep in the pit of my stomach that this is really not black and white. I just hope that Kerry and Edwards can turn a lot of heads as they continue their campaign through the center of our country and do a proper job of gaining support, because I know that that is where the final decision will lie. Mmmm well I guess I will just have to continue crossing my fingers and hoping for the best. I just know that it will feel so good checking Kerry's name in that happy election booth this November.

Groove a Little Baby

2004-08-07T02:04:00.000-04:00

I found something new and entertaining. Audioblog, why must you torture me so?

Mmmm bedtime...

2004-08-07T02:01:00.000-04:00

If I Go Insane, Please Don't Put Your Wires In My Brain...

2004-08-07T01:50:00.000-04:00

Okay there really really must be something wrong with me. I just spent close to an hour updating my blog profile, most of the time which was spent sifting for the perfect image. Ugh it's 2am and I am exhausted. What is wrong wrong wrong with me?

And so, I will leave you all with this note:

"Life's an elevator
It goes up and down
Life's an elevator
Can't you dig the sound?
Life's an elevator
It goes up and down
Life's an elevator
Can't you dig the sound?
Oo-oo-oh-yeah"

Thank you, Marc. That was beautiful. Mmmmmkay bedtime

Take me down to Sensation Boulevard...

Mon Nouveau Tatouage

2004-08-07T00:56:00.000-04:00

Bitter Sweet

2004-08-07T00:44:00.000-04:00

Diya leaves for Bard tomorrow. She is the first member of GFA's graduating class of 2004 to move to college. You would think that her leaving would allow this transition to finaly sink in. It's odd. These people that I suffered through high school with are now all stepping off to live their lives. Each one of us are stepping off to another path. What a lonely lonely process. Yes, we are all going on to similar journeys for the next four years, but the experience is entirely self-possessing. I feel as if the whole damn college process starting from the visits, etc all the way through the applications and finally the acceptances and rejections, I feel as if it is all so damn selfish and solitary. It's amazing how disconnected one can be and still feign interest. I leave in a little over 3 weeks, and I haven't received anything regarding housing. I am a little nervous. I would be more so if the people I knew joining me at school weren't in a similar situation. 3 weeks. God. I want to leave so badly, and yet am so fucking nervous. It's so odd. Life. I can't really believe that this day has come, the day I am leaving the house I have been hated and loved for so long. I am really afraid of my mother. I don't know if she can do it. I hope, I hope. She's just so needy sometimes. It's hard. 3 weeks. God. 3 short, short weeks. Mmm time to go art supply shopping....

They Have Huge Eyebrows

2004-08-07T00:43:00.000-04:00

"Don't Look Back in Anger" is a wonderful song.

Don't Panic

2004-08-06T23:59:00.000-04:00

I have a weakness. Yes, yes, this is a rare moment, I am actually admitting that I might appreciate something that every ounce of my body tells me to shun from my existence, and that is.... Coldplay. I am sorry sorry sorry there is just something about Chris Martin that is irresistable. It's shameful, I know. I hate having their name sit beside Beck, Bjork, Brian Eno, The Chemical Brothers, The Clash.... to see Coldplay next... it almost makes me cringe! But. I really cannot help it. Mmm perhaps I can, but we all need our vices, and if is as bad as it gets, then I guess it could always be worse.

Feels Like Something's Going to Happen...

2004-08-03T17:09:00.000-04:00

I love buying arty books. I really really just adore it. They make me so happy. I can just walk to my bookshelf and just be tickled pink by the lovelies staring back at me. Today I had the pleasure of purchasing 8 new books. Included in the mix was a book by a master named Guy Peellaert entitled "Rock Dreams". This, as I have heard, caused a stir in the 70s as it features the amalgamation of photo with the tortured alteration of the artist, Peellaert. He is in fact the artist responsible for the, at the time, rather shocking artwork featured in David Bowie's album, "Diamond Dogs". David was in fact inspired to request the talent of Guy after seeing "Rock Dreams" on Mick Jagger's coffee table. Anyway, yes yes now Guy, Guy also recently published a book entitled "20th Century Dreams" (and by recently I mean at the end of 1999) which is a book filled with imaginary scenarios which feature the many famous political figures, such as Nixon, Hitler, or perhaps Princess Di, tickling through life with the likes of Prince or Mick Jagger. I was also fortunate enough to find another book by Mick Rock, a fabulous photographer who was able to photographically capture the glittery mahem of Glam Rock in the early 70s. Mmm I wish that everyone had something that could delight their fancies as books filled with artistic genius delight mine. Now I just have to sit around and wait for them to arrive. Oh joyful joyful.

This is a Problem

2004-08-03T00:31:00.000-04:00

Arg. I had made a promise to myself that this blog would not be what the last one was. I promise to make insightful posts that are not strictly focused to me obsession with David Bowie. Promise promise. Tomorrow that is. I must go to bedskie now now now. Ciao bellas. Mwa.

An Ode to My Ipod

2004-08-03T00:21:00.000-04:00

Small, silver, sassy
the key to fabulousness
Why don't you hold more?

I experienced absolutely frustration this morning at Eve-line's abode as I attempted to cram the joy of my life into my tiny little mini ipod. Though wonderful and pocket-size, it sadly forced me to choose between Radiohead and Talking Heads, and this is after having to delete all of Rent and most of Secret Garden, as well as carefully selecting Chemical Brothers and R.E.M., not to mention having to completely neglect Zero 7. Goddddamnnn it. Whatever. Should I really complain? It was a lovely gift and I should be thankful I even have it. Thank you Daddykins.

Do you like Girls or Boys? It's Confusing these Days... But Moondust will Cover you. Cover You.

2004-07-30T19:40:00.000-04:00

I recently fell head-over-heels for Outside, 1996-Era David Bowie - Quoi?? Now, let me explain a little somethin-somethin so you can comprehend my confusion regarding this phenomenon. This "look" was rather interesting as it featured spikey yellow hair with dark blonde roots, random facial hair and loads of black eyeliner, all whilst appearing rather angsty and emaciated. Now, you might ask, "Caitlin, what's not to like - he sounds perfect" (well for ME anyway), and I really don't know if I have an appropriate answer, HOWEVER, I do know that yesterday whilst revisiting my lovely collection of Bowie footage, I finally watched 2 videos that I had shunned all times prior: Strangers When We Meet (which features a chica clad in puppet/rag doll attire - major quoi-factor) and Dead Man Walking. Mmm and I think that this is where the attraction lies. The bleached film with close-ups to that happily effeminate though at times grisly face, and throw eyeliner in the mix, and I am done. I don't care if you have magically sculpted your hair to resemble a rabbit, I am falling over with lust, and it is a big big problem. It is still rather curious.

I Got You - Under My Skin

2004-07-30T19:24:00.000-04:00

The Voyeur of Utter Destruction as Beauty

2004-07-30T19:14:00.000-04:00

That song is amazing, download, maintenant motherfucker.

Okay, next piece of news.

David, who recently had angioplasty, is now resting and recupperating in the city, yes the city! He had the cancel the rest of his tour and return to the lovely place that I will soon call my full-time place of residence. Now, not only does this lovely demon of sexy live in the city, as the city is a huge place, he lives downtown near Battery Park. Yes yes yes my friends within spitting distance of NYU. I think I could probably weep weep weep. Unfortunately, as seen in the most recent issue of People, whilst resting, David took it upon himself to grow some pretty blond (natural?) facial hair. Now, while he could wear a sack of doo-doo atop his head and dance about covered in tangerine-coloured feathers, I would have to say that should a razor miraculously make it to that ever beautiful face, it would perhaps not be the saddest of tragedies. However, I love David still, and probably always will. Even if he looks like Colonel Mustard. Wearing a cowboy hat. Alas, it is terrible I suppose being so damn sexy. And fifty-seven. But honestly, thirty-nine years, schmirty-nine years - I still want to kiss him. Or perhaps just awkwardly stand in awe of his beauty, completely silenced by my pure insane fanaticism. Same difference, is it not? Well well well I must return to my green tea (in David Bowie Reality mug, mind you) and resort to sad fantastical daydreaming....

Reach Out and Touch Faith

2004-07-30T19:09:00.000-04:00

I lost all of my cds. Every single one whilst galloping through the European streets. Actually there wasn't much galloping, it was more of a run - as I chased after the evil Franco-era Spanish crusty old taxi driver, who just happened to have all 73 of my cds, 38 of which were David Bowie, sitting in his back seat. Bastard. Now let me tell you that that was not supermegachachiguay (1 word? 3? 4?). Oh, and when was this, you ask? The first day I arrived in Madrid, the second day on my trip. AWWWWWWWWESOME. Oh it even hurts a little. And as I sit here and try to reclaim my lovers, it seems I might never get them back. At least, not the way I had them before. I must settle for the bits and pieces that exist around me in the possession of friends and it is just so damn frustrating. Although, although - could have lost much worse, could have lost much much worse. Well, shall we call it a day?

You Probably Wonder Why

2004-07-30T15:56:00.000-04:00

Mmm so I have a new blog. Why? I don't really know. Perhaps I just woke this morning and decided for some bizarre reason that it was time to pick it up again. Perhaps I was just tired with where the old one was going, what it had become, and what it once was. Perhaps I just wanted to close that door in order to open a new, as it seems I am facing nothing but open doors at this point in my life. I think it's safe to say that a lot of me wants to leave that old blog as a testiment to the craziness that I faced daily in GFA, and perhaps I want this to simply represent the beginning of NYU. Who knows, maybe this will last the duration, I can't really say at this point. Well, without further ado, here it is. My blog. A rather uplifting thing at that, eh? Well shut the fuck up and deal. I am happy as sunshine.

Everything's Not Lost

2004-07-30T15:49:00.000-04:00