a good feeling: super sprung, and not super hung -
     over.

at school, i'm a student. not a good student, but a student none-the-less.

right after school, i'm a runner. not a good runner, but a runner none-the-less.

after xc practice, a bunch of us go to the girls' soccer game at renton stadium. ryan brown takes me over to his house, and we chill there for a while as i wait for anthony to get to his brother's place, because his brother is out of town, and tonight we're getting biz-zay. sausage. fest.

i decline to smoke a joint, hit the bong, or anything to do with marijuana, except to admire the plants that are growing in the kitchen. it is a sight to bestow, and laugh at. roger, anthony, tyree, and brian all get that sticky greenery up in their lungs, and then rj, ant, tyree head on over to tower records in bellevue, leaving me and brian alone.

of course, brian and i have our own plans. four or five shots of jack daniels, and massive guitaring sessions in between all of it. e minor like a motherfucker. brian writes all sorts of shit over his body, which we know will turn out to look really gay in sobriety, like "on 10/4/02 we realized we are guitar gods," and decidingly calling our band "jack daniels and two guitars." everytime after we rock out, it seems like we're on a fucking guitar-high. brian is really high, but that is beside the point. playing guitar after shots of jack daniels, chased by vanilla coke, FUCKING RULES. jam, jam jam.

JD + G x 2

the other guys get back. then out of nowhere, mitchell gangwish appears, and then things get really weird. it doesn't seem like reality anymore, and everyone is getting fucked up at this point. glug, glug, glug.

and derek appears out of nowhere, too.

we all do the c-walk, because we live on the WESTSIDE.

and then tyree pukes. it's a good thing some of us are sobering up. we vaccum and wipe the stuff off the floor and couch, and then my mom calls the place, and leaves a message on the machine. it is unexpected, but i believe i handled the situation well, by calling her back.

if i'm hung over tomorrow, i'm not running at chehalis.

this blog doesn't accurately convey the crazy night, which is a bummer, because i wish you were all here to experience these crazy niggas get down. i haven't drank with friends, and enjoyed it like this, for a long time. fucking light-weights, like me, just go happy.

tomorrow, at anthony's brother's house, with more friends and coolness, will be fucking crazy.

cortney lee's homecoming pictures

i'm not in any of these photographs, but this was the crew i was hanging with, homecoming night. i can tell my kids i was reppin' it with the cool crowd, yo!

i hope i get to write that article on "students at renton highschool who don't fit or hang out in any social group" for journalism. if not, i'm going to kill some niggas! or jump off a bridge. i can identify with those kids. i wonder if they are happy, and if their happiness is better than my happiness.

the question is, "does a hermit ever smile?"

i want to live near the ocean. closer, i mean. on the beach.

it was either last night or night before last night, when i dreamed i was on the computer (yes, i know, i'm such a fucking loooooooser.), and i dreamed that there was a list of blogs with the title, "letters to sender." that dream made me really depressed.

and now you're all saying to yourselves, "what a stupid, shallow fuck."

i agree. let's see.....

yester-evening i went to bed at 6:30 pm, and i didn't wake up until 5:30 am. that's eleven hours of sleep, on a school night, yo!

2 / 4 / 6 day.

0 i have come to the conclusion that playing the violin was one of those things i should have just quit, back when i started in the fifth grade. i'm like what, in the ELEVENTH grade now, and i still suck ASS. actually, i could have very much excelled back in middle school, had i been measured for a full-sized violin, instead of a 3/4-sized piece of shit. ms. do-WHORE-ty, my orchestra teacher in the fifth grade, told me to get that size. FUCK YOU, 'teach, you stupid cum-guzzling slut. i blame my suckiness all on you, you dumb bitch.

2 in second period american studies, all we do is read the essay's that we wrote for the dbq test yesterday. minh-tu gets mad because i grade her paper like an asshole. i can't stop making eye contact with linda, because it is fun. then we watch 1776, where thomas jefferson, john adams, and benjamin franklin dance and sing, for the sake of INDEPENDENCY! yes, i said it, independency. that's not a fucking typo.

break is break. but during advisory, i attend the green team meeting. amy sits right next to me, and she let's me borrow her long-arm-mitten type thing, that almost goes to my elbow. she makes me feel special. i nominate myself for green team president, for the upcoming elections, because i'm a pompous fuck.

4 whenever ms. miller calls on me for an answer in spanish, i'm uttely clueless, because derek keeps whispering some disgustingly sick and horrid things, as he sits right behind me. it's like this everyday, and sometimes i forget that he is joking.

lunch time breaks up fourth period in half. during lunch, amy sits by me again (even though she has a boyfriend, i can still let her make me feel fuh-reakin' special, can't i? goddamnit!), and the fucking blood drive guy, who played the guitar for us the other day, comes by and asks us to donate blood. he is very persuasive, and a cool dude to boot. if i wasn't so afraid of needles, i would have probably signed up. jake, elaine, and amy sign up, and i look like a fuh-reakin' pussy. cat.

6 journalism is the fucking ruckus period of my day, today. while ms. anderson and all of the editors are outside the room having a meeting, i yell aloud, like i'm constipated, all dragon ball z style, and ms. anderson walks back in crying "JOSEPH!" at least i get some recognition around here.

after journalism class, amy (amy!) is waiting for her mitten-thing back. she knows what my six period is! how cool is that!

xc um... running... yeah. let me say, that i run for fun. HAH! anyway, i run a shitty race at fort dent, but i run it OLD-SCHOOL GREEK-ROMAN STYLE, nigga! before the race, i forget my cross country uniform in devin's car, so i borrow gabriel's, and he wears an X-LARGE. i wear a small, normally. winmill says "you're swimming in that thing," because it hangs over my body so much. at the beginning part of the race, i tell him, "i'm taking this shit off," but instead, i just wear one strap, so it looks like a TOGA. rock. on one of my laps around the course, because of what i'm wearing ms. o'roarty yells out something "flashdance!," which is just fuh'reakin' cool. towards the end of the race, anthony and brian give me high fives, and brian exclaims, "what is this apathetic toga shit!?!" and someone else yells out "gorilla!" this was a pityful race. i got beat by a lot of freshman, and some other dudes who SHOULDN'T HAVE BEAT ME. somewhere during the middle of the race, i spot aa and connor snickering like two giddy school girls (A DRAG QUEEN AND A FAG!), apparently laughing at me, because marvin law is about to overtake me. whatever the opposite of "overload" is, i did the opposite of that today. i'll never let anything like this happen again, unless i know i'm going to kill some motherfuckers with a fucking shotgun at the finish line.

daniel ngyuen, my old renton park peer, is a funny guy. also at the race, i ride kyle yugitafa's little brother's bicycle. anthony can do wheelies. i eat a lot of linda's crackers.

mustafa, you cracker! - anonymous

i want to become a prolific writer and a gap model, but with the little number of occurances and my memory failing me, the latter is more likely to happen. soon enough, hopefully, i'll have a day worth writing about, like i did when i restarted this weblog thing.

but today -

i wake up at 1 am, with the intention of doing some homework, and studying for my american studies test, by reading chapter four in tindall & shi. but i don't. after showering and eating a bowl of cheerios, i stay on the computer until 5 am, at which time i fall back asleep. good for me.

1 / 3 / 5 day.

0 i eat a lot of peanut butter (lite, but i don't notice the difference in taste) and a banana during zero period orchestra, and the freshmen just stare at me. i try to find a violin to use, and only after the fourth violin case, do i find one. i need a new violin. ms. dosch marks me late, because i walked in twenty minutes before class ends.

1 first period web design is a fucking waste of my time. end of story.

during break, amy pins on a boutonniere (she forgot it homecoming night) on to my jean jacket. i notice her top and bottom retainers, and she takes out one of them (top) for a little show and tell. they are so cute and small! i give jake a slice of my blueberry bread, and he spreads some peanut butter on it, but not as much as i put on mine. i like my peanut butter in LOADS, yo!

3 i take my datebase question test (dbq) in third period american studies. i fucking flunk that shit. end of story.

during lunch, devin gives me my wendy's french fries, and as i wait for him to give me my wendy's junior bacon cheeseburger, the asshole tells me he didn't get me one! so i only have french fries for lunch. yuck.

5 fifth period biology is a big fiasco, and my group doesn't finish our lab experiment. end of story.

xc at 2:15, i run on my own [because i have to leave early for a orthodental appointment] to the bench near boeing, and back to the football field, where i do ten strides. TEN STRIDES. tell me that shit is hardcore. if there is one thing i can do in cross country, is strides. i get sweaty. cortney sees me do some of my last ones. funny person.

my orthodontist appointment goes well, even though all the shit they stick into my mouth still seems like alien technology. i finally get my bottom braces off, and it is replaced with a hidden permanent retainer. it sort of sucks, because i've been used to flicking my tongue at the back of my bottom teeth, when i eat. they also give me a goody bag filled with candy. mmm, mmm, yeah.

i'm going to sleep and never wake up. no homework! except for a little calculus.

i just checked my email, for the first time in ages, and i read some letters from HELEN LAM, my good london friend. i just wrote back. all i have to say about that on here is that i fuh-reakin' miss you!

according to human for sale, i am worth exactly $1,553,638.00. and judging from the quiz i took, that number can only double for me in the next couple of years.

highlight of my day: a black girl that i don't know tells me that she likes my che guevara t-shirt, which i got from LONDON. ROCK.

after further research, putting two and two together, and some speculation, i have come to the infallible conclusion that ANTHONY GETS ALL OF THE LADIES, AND JOSEPH GETS NO PLAY. at least, this statement will be true, soon.

sometimes, i wish i was a gajillionaire, so that all the girls would flock. and fuck that shit about having a girl like you for who you are, because a girl that likes you for your money is perfectly legitamate, granted that you have the green to dish out.

i'm going to live on the moon, by myself. at least i can phone muckerheide, on his mars estate.

psyche. i want a beautiful mind to live with, but i can still phone muckerheide on his mars estate. and unlike what you guys think, i DO fear the notion of dying alone.

a painfuling uninteresting day, with a few exceptions: one hug, a gentle caress down the back of my head, and a few attempts at photographing me. all from different people!

people can unknowingly make a kid feel very special.

oh yeah, RUNNING SUCKS A LOT OF DICK.

by any means necessary, i must get me a copy of kingdom hearts for my ps2, a new pair of chuck taylor's, and this expensive-ass wool-insulated cordoroy jacket from the gap. but i don't have a fuh-reakin' job, yo!

fuck that, there's no such thing as a bisexual. if you've had sex with a man, you're a fucking faggot! - mustafa

guys, please don't kick me out of the car for saying this, but i think lydia gaston is fucking hot. - mitchell

jenny!

kids fuh-reakin' rule.

the day of my cousin's baptism. at church, as a godparent of louella, i know i look glum before the congregation, but it's not a forced attitude. roman catholicism is still funny to me, but i don't mock it, i just mug it. i see linda and rommel at church, not together, of course. even in a church setting, linda's glow can still make me smile.

the reception is good. it is a buffet, and i get loaded, of food no less. my other cousin, ailen (sp?), is such a cool kid. he's not even two years old yet, and i already know he's going to grow up to be a genius. you can teach little kids to do cute things, but all of the things that qualifies ailen to be so cool are his own natural idiosyncrasies, and fucking smarts. chrome-plated top-teeth lou makes me tired, because he runs around a lot, and he's getting bigger. the rest of my cousins are cool too, but we're not very close, because i haven't known them for very long. they are from my mom's side of the family, which is weird, because i haven't been around this many relatives from my mom's side, not since i was last in the philippines. i guess a lot of my mom's cousin's have moved to the u.s., but none of my mom's brothers or sisters have, so i don't have any first cousins in the u.s. kids, kids, kids!

at walmart, i see elaine, and i buy black ticonderoga pencils, 0.7 bic mechanicals, and a 80 page notebook with a frog on it.

i'm sick of pizza. i can't wait until school tomorrow, because it's the beginning of something new again.

"joe with a black girl makes a lot of sense." ... "joe with a black guy makes a lot more sense."

this is my post-homecoming recollection, starting from thursday, ending with what is now 2:30, sunday morning.

i know i haven't blogged in a long time; not since wednesday. i also know i'm not very concise when i write, although i wish i was. this entry will have inconsistent lengths; i will go more in-depth as we draw away from thursday, because i don't remember shit about thursday, but i'll write as much as i can. this is written in notepad, at 2:30 am, and my tired state will hopefully not be evident through out this entry. i do know for sure, that this will be worth reading, by myself, or by you, later in the future. i write this with the mentality of knowing that i'm archiving my valuable days of youth, however mundane or exciting they may be, for an older self, however mundane or exciting i may turn out to be. in the evident that i do become a four-sided square, i can always look back, and say i enjoyed life with the turbulence of gurgling my teenage angst, runnin' with the popular crowd, etc., etc. ETCETERA. all at the same time, figuring out if i'm becoming the person i want to be, or if i'm being molded simply by circumstance, with no control over my destiny, playing the cards like a blind mothertrucker.

thursday brings race day. all day, i anticipate the race at coulon park. i drink a lot of water during school, and pee a lot of clear liquid. i eat bananas and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. we go to coulon. i run shitty (22:10). fuck running. end of story.

after the race, gabriel and i pick up our tuxes.

friday brings spirit day. all day, i anticipate the pep assembly, where i walk out in my tux, escorted by meliha. while waiting to walk out, meliha and i discuss how much we do not want to do it, even though deep inside a spark of excitement, as the result of some surging adrenaline, is all cultivating within both of us. the time finally comes, and we walk out, and i surprisingly recieve a good amount of noise and clap from my peers when my name is called. if me being homecoming prince is a joke, at least it's a good joke, that has united the school. spirit club comes out, and they are loud and obnoxious. it is funny, and i laugh with my head tilted back, clapping like a seal, while standing behind my princess, before the whole school.

i skip xc practice. fuck running. gabriel takes me to malesis flowers, and i get amy's coursage. right after i buy it, tami le tells me she could have made it, but it is now too late. i go home, and i recieve a call from j. paul, who i haven't talked to since london. we talk about me being the junior class prince, and how jason wong and kerri thornton got somewhat of the same treatment, all for what he says "is because of tribes." we talk about other stuff, but we really key on the screen play that he is working on, which is based on my 2001 tribes show, face change. i am told that i am his last tribes person in highschool (franklin doesn't count, because he didn't direct that show), and so i the last to REPRESENT. representation of what we had as a 2001 cast family is a big thing with j. paul, even though almost everyone out of my cast ditched tribes.

gabriel picks me up from my house (it seems like my life is a fucking tribute to gabriel gonzalez. WHAT THE FUCK.). tami and ashley russell are already in the car, and my mom rolls by in her car to say "hi guys." we go to the student parking lot, where the homecoming parade floats are supposed to meet, and then to the front of the schol, where the senior float is being made. tami isn't the normal tami le i know, because she is somewhat loaded. then we go back, and all the non-senior princes/princesses file into the white limosine, after we have been liberally assaulted by picture-taking. the limo ride isn't that great, in fact it sucks, because there is nothing to do, and we're not even allowed to stick our heads out of the sun roof, which is complete bullshit, since we're in a fucking PARADE. i see some people, like teachers and my family, so i stick out my whole body to wave at them, all the while ashely is spanking me.

we finally arrive at the stadium. i wait all of the first half of the football game, in complete boredom, because i could care less about fucking football, while i'm in a tuxedo, waiting to march out during halftime before a stadium of people. meliha and i talk about how fucking stupid homecoming court is, and then halftime comes and it is finally time for us to go out on the turf and walk with our families. my mom and dad go with me (john backs out earlier). it is disappointing, because we do not walk out like they did last year. also, the organization is totally FUCKED, so we look like we have no clue what-so-ever in what we're doing. being in homecoming court feels pretty dull and redundant now, and i can't wait until the night is over. me and the friends try to do something, but it all turns into a bust, because denny's is full, and all of the other cheap restaurants are closed.

saturday is the day of homecoming dance. first, i wake up, and go to the rehearsal of my godchild's baptism. my family on my mom's side, which are genetically somewhat distant cousins, but all the while close, are cool and funny children.

the night before, i accidentally leave some of my stuff in wilson tang's car,. i call him up, and then i go to his house. wilson has a big house, but a horrendously steep driveway, and my mom has a horrible time backing out of it.

i sleep for a couple of hours, wake up at 2 pm in the afternoon, eat, shower, dress, and then i go to anthony's house. i come to see all of my friends paired in couples, and they are taking pictures. i don't care much that amy is not there, but i suppose everyone feels sorry for me. we go to buca di beppo's for dinner. good food, good service. i've forgotten how much i LOVE iced tea. we have so much time until the dance starts, and so we go to tower. then we head over to the pier, for a scenic way of killing time. then we go to the dance. we wait in line for a long while, enter in at almost 9, and everyone gets in line for pictures, while i sit at a table near the dance floor. i call amy, and she is almost here. she finally arrives, stunningly beautiful, and then everything starts rolling from there. the night feels filled for me, my stiff-bodied dancing, my many failed attempts at harlem-shaking, pictures with amy and the homecoming court, and that forced slow dance with meliha. at some point, while waiting in line to take pictures, i realize the point and meaning of homecoming: for a bunch of highschool students to wear formal attire, while music that is produced by black people is being played, for people who don't have to be black to dance to. amy is a cool date, and a cool girl. in the end, i don't feel like such an ass, or like the worst homecoming date ever.

after homecoming, we go to anthony's. we eat some left overs, and then people get loaded off some green-filled fat ones. tyree is fucking hilarious, because he is baked off his ass. pityful guitaring goes on, on the outskirts of the zoolander-watching crowd. all i have is one shot of j.d., because getting fucked up isn't in my list of things to do for the night, but i still want that subtle quasi-feeling of relaxation in my shoulders.

okay, so this wasn't the best of the best blogs. i didn't feel like this exhaustively covered everything, which i normally feel like i do, somewhat, but this is good enough for me. i rushed towards the end, but that's because it's getting to be 3:45 now.

in reflection, i really don't resent this whole experience, although i truly did while it was all going on. i remember last year, when ryan brown wrote a blog about his homecoming experience, and it was mainly focused on how high he placed linda on a shrine, for him to worship. i have no girl to worship; my date has a boyfriend, and i don't see myself obsessing over anyone. plus, all of the girls crushing over me are sophomore geeks who i don't find attractive, and some freshmen jailbait as well. it may sound mean, but it's the truth. people say looks don't mean anything without personality, and that is true. however, i don't believe there is a personality out there, within the radius of the seattle landscape, that i have found to intrigue me, so much as now to get all hyped about. it's a funny thing about me; being a goofy looking kid, who desires a mind-blowing and eccentric supermodel.

i guess the point of homecoming is to have fun. that's it. i guess that's cool, if you have the money, but if you don't, i just suggest reading comic books, while holding hands with a hot girl. i just need a hot girl, and a place to sit.