i am tortured, ever tortured.

because i have an urge to declare my love for musicians who don't care about me. ah tom waits, does not the fact that i love you mean anything in this world?



writing agenda for the next couple of weeks:
1. reconstruct rusty. adhere to screenwriting rules. adjust structure a bit and tweak dialogue a tad. submit to final draft by the 1st. party.
2. work on new script. hurrah. finish.
3. reconstruct rhymes with orange. make amazing shot list. assemble places. organize. do not sleep through existence.
4. look at one scholarship thingy per day.
5. write on fantastic novel.
6. at end of each week, send off various stories to various places. hurrahhhh..
7. write some excellent emails


just keep swimming...

can't do right tonight

I am fascinated by the middle class.

I also had screenings today.

Gotta pack

Gotta move out.


hurrah.

don't you think we oughta know by now

"the harder you work to attain something the more you change."

quoth me.

"Rebellion is modern heroism"

quoth my favorite teacher, Pendleton, on the topic of the Beat generation.

I love finding old paper scraps. :)

More:

I found somebody's cellphone in the parking lot the other day. Not thegym parking lot, because I never go to the gym. Which is probably why... nevermind. My mother has more muscle definition than I do, mostly from hefting my sister, a retard who can't really mobilize herself without some assistance (or wipe her own ass).

...The science building parking lot. I was only only in that parking lot because my history class is hled in the science building- though I am taking biology, thre. And failing. But that's mainly because I never go, which is why I was in the sicence parking lot after history class and not biology, which would make more sense bu I feel the need to set you straight, you see. It was blue (the cellphone) and one of those that feel like a brick and take up very nearly your whole hand.