Last night I had to vacuum the floor of a record store, whichwas fun considering I got to crawl under the the feet and legs of neo-hippie bastards, and be pushy while on all fours. And I was listening to Cha Vez, which made everything blissful. I think I just might end up mopping Siren's floor. It's so dirty. But, the people that work there are surprisingly clean, except me. Of course.

Today I'm in a pickle. Some friends of mine are going to some weird house, where two people were murdered in the 80's. To. Smoke. I'd go, really I would--but considering the fact I'm scared of everything, and out of respect to the couple that got shot at some weird "haunted" house in Lanchaster, I'm going to find something else to do. But, I'm sleeping over one of those friends'ss house, so she'll be high, and I won't. I wonder how that will go over.

I used to smoke. I still do. I just used to, too.

I think I just might, copy and paste some of my live journal entries over to here. That's how cool I am.

{That's how cheap I am}

This one goes out to Lynn.

" turn right onto rt 313 (heading towards route 263), about 1-2 miles down 313 at the bottom of a dip in the road, there is a road on your left, robin road, you'll notice this big satelite dish on the corner...I am the first house on the left, blue house...3624...you can't miss it "

Those are the directions I got for a party this Saturday. What should I do?

Has anybody ever been so in love that? That they wanted to die? But, you know, in a happy way?

I really wish this obsession meant something. If only my love was directed in the direction of somebody my age, and of course willing to date a not-so-knock out like myself. But it's not. Instead it's directed to an adult, prepared for college--a pre-college student rockstar. I want to die. Do you hear me?

I'm so fuckin in love. I should stop there, but I'm so inlove I won't. I'll just keep on typing nonsense, you know, let it all out. It wasn't always like this. It was never like this. Something has changed. I had a dream, and I'm curious to know if it meant something. This guy. When he looks at me. My world stops. It feels. So great.

Of course everyone feels this way, right? My feeling, this unexplainable lust is just a common phase billions of teenagers have gone through? I'm just a statistic and this means nothing?

Damn. I really think I have something here. It's crazy. I'm involved in craziness.

I could do another "rant about rockstars", really the temptation is unbearable, but apparently the topic is dry and repetitious. So, something new for this evening? Aye. How about this. I'll do something live journal like, something BLOG like--what did I do today? Oh wouldn't you like to know...

I went to school. I was so tired, I felt drunk. Drunk as cats. Cats get drunk, too. After school I hung out with Tim. Wait. First, I discussed a knocked over plant in the hallway with Tartar sauce. Apparently he liked the plant. It had taken a bad fall, blocking the entrance of the chorus room and leaving dirt all over the hallway tile. It was exciting indeed. It would've been better if he cried.

After hanging out with Tim. I went home. I dance in front of my mirror to Belle and Sebastian, the Talking Heads and of course Modest Mouse for what seems hours. I really think I'm a rockstar, a real wily one with looks and a tude the size of big tuna Texas. But I'm the only one that sees that. And, of course, I only see that in my mirror. After a quick clean of things in the area I occupy, I went into town. I strolled. I toddled. I made my way to Travis's house, where we tickled each other to near death and wrestled like little maniacs of kindergarten, left Travis's house and bought a CD at Siren. Went to the park with Gill, Ellen, Kenney, Dorka, Bob and Joe. They gave me doughnuts. I played on the swings like a little girl, and and and and... Ate more doughnuts. Once they all started pairing up and playing spider on the swings, I decided it was time to jet. So it goes.

I strolled. I toddled. I loitered. I wondered around town. Nobody, nobody nobody. No Aaron, AJ, Tartar sauce--nobody. Just me and the biting cold, and of course some old ladies. I think I have to find a new, hip cool alternative. Town's losing it's flav, or is it I?

Oh, I did spot a rockstar in town. She had been crying. I wanted to go up and cheer her up but my hands were too numb.

If I only I were grand enough to hang out with the rockstars. You know, those rockstars? There always around, getting a band started, hanging out talking about bands that they're getting started. Yeah. THOSE rockstars. It's such a shame they distance themselves from little insomniacs like myself, for I'm on the verge of becoming--not a rockstar, but a musician.

Glory. There's some ideas brewing. Ideas brewing, and Tartar's CD's brewing. Well, if you call copying a CD brewing a CD. Indeed, Tartar will have both Belle and Sebastian and Syd Barret in his little boney hands by the morrow. Looks like I will be molding him like an ugly lump of clay. Sad world when the boy you love is a blank sheet of paper, eh? Course he's good at the heart and has motivation like you wouldn't believe. Look at him get up. Wow boy, settle down.

I wish you could explain guitar solos with words...it'd probably look like this:

Bow, bicka bow bow benchwo wicca wicca owyy teowza oboyy oa abicka bicka now now now nerrraow.

You rockstars feelin' me?

Maybe some got me wrong, I love my mom. Cause I'm cool. And she wakes me up in the morning for school.

I'm at school. Cause I'm cool, I'm in school--cause I don't do drugs. Cause I'm cool. And I go to school.

I had a dream last night that I was in a parking lot with all these smokers, and my mom pulls up and screams at all of them. So I gave 'er one. And they cheered...So I gave 'er another. And sooner or later here I was beating the hell out of my mom and laughing.

I feel guilty

I got it out.

While I was at the movie, this guy kept starring at me. He looks like a cat. I know him, really I do--we've talked, he's intellectual and well rounded and defintely unavailable to me. But, he waved. He looked. He smiled. I think I'm inlove, for the moment, because I'm bored and HEY! Welcome to my dollhouse.

So we looked, I waved. I smiled. Then, I left and giggled.

The significance of this story escapes me as for now, but if you find any hidden philosophical meaning in the following choppy narrative, give me some smack money. Thanks.

So I saw Monsoon Wedding tonight. I want to be an Indian Woman. Really, I do.

Tartar sauce never came on. I doubt he ever will.

So there's this dark temptation on the prowl. I saw Sid and Nancy, and ever since then I've been jive talkin' en walkin', and cravin. It's like 75 watt light bulbs, burn baby burn. I told this guy, and he said it was ok. I doubt the bastard meant it, he was whacked out. I missed Honeychurch. They played at a bar, but I'm too young for a bar. So I stood outside and listened as their guitars swooned and organs jittered, the drunks dramatically cheering with all their not-so-young-anymore anger. Rock on, you son of a bitch. It's been like three years since you graduated college and here you are, in Doylestown. Getting drunk at Kelly's bar and grill. Listening to Honeychurch.

I think there's something in my teeth.

Here, let me get it out.

Sigh, blogs. I love blogs.

So I'm waiting for Tartar sauce to come on. I wonder if he ever will--and if he does, I'll ask him how many tacos he wants. Because we all want tacos.

This is crazy. I'm involved it craziness. Over the span of what, a week? I have felt attracted, or noticed a certain amount of lust radiating off me brain into the depths and crevices of mens eyes, eh. Should I stop right there, or continue? I shall proceed. So yeah. Guys. Men. Boys. It's all a bunch of crap. I feel as if I've betrayed myself, considering the fact all my friends are guys, and that automatically means that I shouldn't be attracted to best friends. It's kind of like how punk is dead, except without the safety pins and fat lips, and fat...girls?

Why did punk have to go, huh? Why did my pro-virgin, anti crush frenzy have to go as well? Aye, so it goes they say. So it goes.

I really need to stop thinking aboot boys.

I think I'll listen to some jazz and let my feet do some talking. Oh what's that you say, leftie? Thanks for the advice.

I love Belle and Sebastian. I really do.

I also dig this kid, Tartar sauce for the time being. Tartar looks like Christopher Guest. He is among the best. I'll come back once we've connected. Then I'll have something fruity to talk about.

Isn't that what you people expect of me? Huh?

I'm putting vocals to this guy's guitar music. He's good. Hopefully we'll make something revolutionary. I have to go, my Mom is desperate for my love and attention.

Just like Tartar.