Bull-Fighting

" 'Nobody ever lives all their life all the way up except for bull-fighters.' " --Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises

It's been a pretty uneventful break so far.

I've barely left my room.

But I have to keep trying to do something so I don't stop and get all angsty and broody.

It's like there's a cloud over my head or something.

I can't imagine why, except for maybe my girlfriend living with her angry, Ohioan ex-boyfriend in O-fucking-hio for an entire fucking week.

But I'm just being a stupid, moody teenager.

Aside from the occasional jump into the shoes of Jake Barnes I haven't done anything.

Nothing.

Can you guys tell I like Hemingway?

This is only the third Hemingway reference in ten posts.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

Boxing Gloves

Being the kind of kid who's been described as "a seven-foot tall, albino Bob Marley" by his friends and relatives, I've never really had any sort of desire to fight, or tackle, or body-slam, or full-nelson, or half-nelson, or arm bar, or punch, or kick...


Well, there's a lot of things.


And maybe that sounds a little girly, and I'm sure that if Hemingway was still around he'd punch me in the gut and call me a sissy, but it's just something that I've never really liked doing, though, at times, I do agree that some people do need to be kicked in the face. Hard.


So, when my friends got out the boxing gloves on Friday night, naturally, I wanted in, and I got punched in the chest so hard I felt it for a whole day.


I'm still sore two days later.


But it was fun to get the shit kicked out of me, even though I was getting the shit kicked out of me.


Does that make sense?


And I'd really like to do it again some time.


Maybe next time I'll actually hit someone.

Post Blog:

 

604,800 seconds

Today's my week-iversary.




















Fuck off.

Nag Champa

Burning incense has become sort of a rite in my room.


Every Sunday.


A funeral party for the week, I guess.


And I try to unwind, and usually it works to some extent. Plus, I usually play In the Aeroplane Over the Sea and scream along to all of the words.


I usually lie down on the carpet I vacuumed earlier in the day.


By the last song I'm usually screaming as loud as I can.


I really wish this week was over.


I want to feel my throat rip and ache and cough out all the smoke.


I want to sit up high in my branches.


And relax.

Exasperation

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That was me banging on my keyboard.


Want to see it again?


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"A Clean, Well-Lighted Place"

Looking back at the blog and other stuff I've written, it all seems the same.

So I guess I'm in a rut.

Shit.

At least it's a comfortable place to be, as long as you don't think too hard about it. It's the kind of comfort in knowing that you've done it all before and, at least for a while, will continue to, but nothing really new and interesting ever comes out of a rut, so I guess I  should try to climb out.

So I can finally write something useful.

So I can feel better about everything, and finally get a good look around.

So I can stop looking at my feet when I walk.

So that I can take people seriously when they compliment me, and not worry when I hear laughing.

And maybe stop feeling so stressed.

Or self-concious.

Or embarrassed about things I said years ago.

But maybe it's not like that.

Maybe getting away from the routine means just that, and nothing else.

And it is warm down here.

And safe.

And comfortable.

And I should really get to work on some of the stuff down here.

I was thinking about bringing in a futon so I could have a couch and a bed.

Plus I have all this homework to do.

I think I'll just stay here for a while.

It's a pretty nice place.

"Tongue-Tied and Dizzy"

Well what if I...

Well maybe if I said...

Or...

Um...

I don't really know what to say today. I'm busy with something and I can't really think of anything else, except for maybe how I'm supposed to be a good friend and hang out with people when they ask you to, especially if you're dating that person. And how I can't go to the movies with my other friends because they live far away, and how that's a bummer.

I really can't keep my thoughts straight.

Is this getting a little overdone?

Well, shit.

What else can I talk about?

Um...

Here's a good song.

I used it for the title.