i am going to ashland tomorrow!!!

just had to get that out of my system.

damn it all. i should be in bed but i have a story to write. two pages of frame story with portraits of people: 1 satirical, 1 idealized, 1 stereotypical. i'm really bad at this. i have trouble packaging people in boxes and saying THIS is how you will be. i hate stereotypes to the extent that they become a nonissue and i can't work with them when i have to. my stereotypical characters have quirks and three dimensions and i HATE myself for trying to box people, even in a story. even fictional people. and i don't idealize people to the extent ms. th0mpson wants for the story, at least not people that i could put in the same place as my stereotype...and then i have to do a satirical portrait and ordinarily that would be the easiest of the three...i could satirize many people. that doesn't involve stereotypes or ideals. there are people i would love to write a scathing satire of. i just have writer's block. damn it all. i hate this assignment. i don't write satire at 12:30 am. i write deep, dark, brooding evilness and scariness that freaks me out when i go back and read it. i write lit. crit. essays. i don't write satire at this time.

but i should try.

however, i am growing more and more certain that i shan't. slacker ee-rees lives again! the familiar lethargy slowly envelops the brain...the inability to do anything meaningful takes over...and i am left rambling on my blog, listening to bye now (don't even get me started on song relevance), and thinking i should write this story but i don't know how to begin (or middle or end) and therefore i won't.

somedy hit me and make me snap out of this, please.

person x: fuck me
me: when?
me: oh wait...i'll shut up.

x: can oyu pluralize piercing?
me: piercings, perhaps?
x: like piercings... the comp. doesn;t think so
me: i think so, so fuck your computer
x: fuck it/
me: or don't
x: heh
x: i think there are animals in my house.
x: they said they got rid of them... but i am not so sure
x: that is like the 3rd time there were weird noises and shit
me: they are plotting against you
x: so damn teh fucking terminators
x: yuah
me: it's a furry animal conspiracy
x: weeee!!!!
me: hehe
me: wheeeeeeee!

probably later i'll look back at this and it won't be nearly as funny, if it is even still funny at all.

it's too early for me to be coherent.

or maybe this is coherent.

opinions on that?

and it turn out my mum's sax cost THREE times what ashland costs. i'm going to be so broke after ashland which means i need a job to get money for portland and my guitar.

fuck it all. i need to time travel to 11:30 tomorrow.