men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses
12 hours...
10.17.2003
10:53 p.m.

I finished the satire... I think my visual was well received. The idea worked very well I think, at least it wound up looking just how I wanted it to... I'd explain it but really its just what I said it would be the letter with lots of supplementary pictures but it's artfully put together... it's an abstract-postmodern-expressionist-I'm just throwing out artistic movements hoping one will apply-representation of my satire. I like it and when Ro was looking over it he was laughing to himself...so I suppose thats either good or very bad, we'll see.

The other thing I wrote yesterday will never again see the light of day. It's atrocious. I turned it in only because I had to turn something in. I hope Rens understands. I went out on a limb, it didn't work, I really don't like admitting that it did because I was excited by the idea and given more time who knows but I failed. No matter what grade I wind up getting it's a failure on my part. Even if I wind up with an A, I won't be happy, I won't be proud of it and I really wish I didn't put my name on it.

a boy in my class got upset with me after I took issue with his diction... he told me I didn't get it... I told him it's the fault of the writer if the reader doesn't understand their messages because words are missing. It doesn't matter though, I know I'm right. A piece that doesn't stand alone is of no merit, if it needs explanation it's useless. I should be able to see a thought process. It wasn't there. But he's a Stephen King fan.

the more I listen to myself the more I realize I'm a literary elitist. I still don't care though. I am what I am.

I'm running on about 4 hours of sleep in the past 36 or so... I'm going to go catch up on that...

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Song De Jour:

She was born in November 1963 The day Aldous Huxley died And her mama believed That every man could be free So her mama got high, high, high And her daddy marched on Birmingham Singing mighty protest songs And he pictured all the places That he knew that she belonged But he failed and taught her young The only thing she's need to carry on He taught her how to Run baby run baby run baby run Baby run Past the arms of the familiar And their talk of better days To the comfort of the strangers Slipping out before they say so long Baby loves to run She counts out all her money In the taxi on the way to meet her plane Stares hopeful out the window At the workers fighting Through the pouring rain She's searching through the stations For an unfamiliar song And she's pictures all the places Where she knows she still belongs And she smiles the secret smile Because she knows exactly how To carry on So run baby run baby run baby run Baby run From the old familiar faces and Their old familiar ways To the comfort of the strangers Slipping out before they say So long Baby loves to run

Last Five Entries:

insert semi clever joke about not being able to spell something without R U here - 08.08.2005
- - 08.06.2005
well fuck. - 08.06.2005
it's all just a little bit of history repeating... - 08.03.2005
a quick update - 08.03.2005