Nick

gosh, I should probably wash my hair really soon.

CHOCOLATE MILKSHAKE EVERYONE

YES

I'm a peach!

I'm off to NC, spur of the moment. I'll be back late tuesday or wednesday.

ACRONYM!

Riding in traffic with three teenage girls is only fun if you have a really good idea of who Vin Diesel is.

We played the game where you can have sex with a movie star, but I couldn't remember Samantha Eggar's name. We flashed all these men in this bus though.

It's kind of like my friends have changed, but then it's kind of like my friends are just being who they were for real now.

I'm thinking of moving away.

Yesterday: Adventures with an Apatosaur (real)(<3)
Today: Adventures with a Stegasaur (plastic)(<3)
Tomorrow: Adventures with rockets (plastic)(<3)

It's not so much that I like being unhappy anymore than it's about realizing you can't feel your teeth.

My mom told her therapist my height and weight, and he said people are usually underweight because they feel subservant to something or someone. Vegan Anarchists being the antithesis, maybe I'm keeping Hegel in beans. Then again, it might explain a few things about myself.

I want to make some books. If anyone has any experience with bookmaking, papermaking or publishing law, advice would be much appreciated.

Thanks Jackie, Kate and Russell for kicking the weekend's ass.

How evil are you?

What a pansy.

An even more ferocious storm than the other night. This time I was struck. Crack, boom, kapow. Cinders and ash.

I'm pretty tired of the drop off, pick up game. But what are you going to do? If all else fails, at least I'll know that after camp, I'll have enough money saved to buy a car and have a lead on insurance until I find another job.

Wahwahwah. It's really hard to be upset right now.

I'm sort of feeling less self absorbed, so I have the urge to write an honest journal and really connect with people. I've decided to use this LiveJournal account for the mundane stuff, and the Xanga for the stupid short stories, summae and such. (Thanks again mom, for the "forgotten english" day calander.)

Monday night, I realized last Thursday had been the first I'd been out of the house, aside from walking to the Preserve and doing science at Full Circle, for more than two weeks. It didn't really bother me, because I've been keeping busy "studying" (in the unschooler's definition anyway) and never noticed, but I wonder if I'm limiting myself. We had a great thunder storm that night, so I snuck out at about 2am or so to stand out on the dock and tease the lightining. I wasn't struck, not even a tingle. The sky was beautiful, the lake was moving, moving, moving in all the wind, but I just got cold and went in to bed, wrapped up in my coat. Not even a tingle.

Either I'm satisfied and I'm not used to the feeling, or I need something I don't even know where to start looking for.

It's almost impossible to describe what it's like to be a fly. The sensation of knowing the infinitesimal texture of a surface through your legs, feeling the grain in a wooden chair leg or the pulpy pours of a book page, is almost like some sort of dream that I know was important, but I just can't bring it to mind now. Now that I'm a human again that is.

I should really get out of here, and someplace where I don't feel I need to kill off senses to be satisfied. I sat on the couch watching the sky through a tree through the window, and it didn't even seem real. I appreciated it like it was a very clever shadow box. Then I broke the window and climbed up the tree and looked back inside, and it was just a stuffy house and a lumpy couch through broken glass soaking wet with my blood. So I climbed down to find something to put on all the cuts and I felt light-headed and hungry and happy.

But really, I just fell asleep watching that tree.

Then I dreamed I'd become a masterful homeopath, and isolated the exact energy resonance that gradually brought a mentally retarded boy to full cognitive capability. Since I had used a unique method that usurped all previous medical discovery, they not only gave me a Nobel Prize, but retroactively awarded me all Nobel Prizes. My arms were outstretched and weighted down with the medals. Pasture's grandchildren were crying.

But really, I just want to spend all day in the preserve, hiding from hikers and dog-walkers.

I'm really more of a Xanga man myself.