you know, fuck it. i actually liked maid in manhattan. i can enjoy these types of movies when i'm by myself, or with my mom in the kitchen paying half of her attention to what's going on in the living room.

hopefully during this week of spring break, while i'm not sleeping or running, i'll be able to check out some almodovar films, as well as maggie gyllenhaal in secretary. the rest of my "must see list" includes my life as a dog and amores perros, if i get the chance. if i had the money i'd go to the theater and see the pianist. phonebooth seems interesting as well. maybe i'll sneak in.

for all the bullshit reviews you read about movies, in the end you've got to see the film yourself.

when i begin to live on my own, i know for a fact that i'll only be awake when the sun goes down. except my "night life" won't involve the clubbing scene or bar hopping; rather, it will consist of crazy, crazy shit.

like painting.

mind fog.

i'm running the mile and two mile this meet on thursday, but i'm already prepared and loaded with excuses for failure. my hip flexor hurts, and i just took two anti-inflammatory pills for the pain. i'm also running the mile this saturday in the renton invitational. it makes me feel privileged, especially to be under winmill's guiding hand.

just like eating shit is a privilege, or like how fucking an electric pencil sharpener is a privilege.

i'm ever so thankful.

is it possible for you to not be brash or insulting, self-deprecating and tired?

imagine speaking to this world without the use of irony. wouldn't that be cool?

i go through motions, many of which are totally unnecessary. only out of irony do i act out and add to the mass of triviality in this microcosm known as renton high school. i do it because i can get away with it. no one knows. know one cares. i don't know. i don't care.

nothing anyone does is out of necessity anymore. it's not like i enjoy faking the funk, it's just that no one is asking me to not be stupid.

we have americanized mexican food to the point that tropical flavored starburst are the only remedy for this after taste of over-produced nacho cheese and soupy enchilada sauce.

sexyhalfblack: im gettin my butt licked

ben randolph is a weird fucking riot.

yesterday rj got his drum kit in the mail, and so we technically had our first jam session as a "band" with brian and i on the guitar, seth on the bass, and of course with rj on the chitty-chitty-bang-bang. we spent the whole afternoon trying to figure out how to piece the set of drums together with an instruction manual printed off of the internet. later anthony came with crystal, since he supposedly assembled his older brother's drums. he is such a spasm. we got seth on this deal where he isn't supposed to make self-directed jokes about homosexuality since the bulk of what he talks about all the time is just that.

today i met up with rj, seth, and brian again, except we watched spirited away. it was really good. i ate one of the best sandwiches i had ever had in my life at roger's before we left.

these three guys were basically the only people amongst my friends, besides anthony, who i've seen all weekend. i don't know what type of groupies a band consisting of three asian guys none taller than 5'6'' and a white guy with a swimmer's build will attract and bring, but i'm hoping they'll be hot, because i'm shallow. there's been talk of introducing someone into the mix as a lead singer to front the group, but i'd rather see the core four understand each other musically as a group before any external overlay of voices are added.

plus i want to front my own band someday, if not this one. the only other reason i'd stay in a band would be for experience, before i become the face of another.