Mon Nouveau Journal

    Walk into the store.  Say 'Hi.'  Put on a shirt; make a joke.  Put on an apron, ask somebody if the prep work's done.  Hear a bell, help a customer.  'What size?' 'White or Wheat bread?'  Repeat.  Repeat.  Repeat.  Clean up something, walk around the store.  Think about how much money you're gonna make in two weeks.  Make plans to save.  But you  never save.  Crack another joke.  Close the store.  Go home.  Smoke.  Sleep.
    6 months.
    In just 6 months I've had something rich go sour in only a few months for reasons which I had no control over.  I feel used.  'Can I come over to record?'  'Can I come over to record?'  'Can I come over to record?'  Redhead, it's never to hang out.  It's always to record.  I could have easily helped you that day you asked, but I didn't.  Don't use me.  Brunette, what the hell are you thinking?  You can't waltz on in expecting help just 'cause you blew me a couple of times.  I'm  bitter and I'm finding it harder ever day to even think about a relationship right now, much less about women.  You're just rubbing this in my face by showing up randomly or even calling so soon.
    I've got a job.  I'm proud of my ethic, but I hate my work.  I'm good at work, but I'm in the wrong place.  I'm like a polar bear in the jungle.  That bear owns its own habitat, but put anywhere else it's useless and pointless.  This is how I feel about my current situation.  What comes from my energy at work?  Nothing worthwhile.  I'm living a life like rent, throwing away money to keep at status quo.  I'm a polar bear in the jungle, living on rent.  So out of place, so entirely useless.
    As soon as I start on something, I give up.  Diet to improve my health?  Lasted a month.  Now I'm back to cheap food and soda.  Start riding a bike to work?  The bike's broken, and I've got no will to return it or repair it.  Stop smoking?  Fat fucking chance.  So much money is being wasted on something that takes so much away from me.  Health, respect, honesty, creativity.  Marijuana's sapping all my resources.  I'm just standing here, kickin' stones around, laughing at nothing.  Twiddling my thumbs.
    I do have one calling, though.
    I promised my grandma Lena that I'd move to Montana for the summer to help her with the house since she can't do all the work now that Doug's dead.  I figure I will actually do this because this is somebody who isn't even technically related to me that cares much more about me than anyone in my family does now.  She's given me so much, and I'll I've ever given her is an awkward hug and some awkward 'I love you's.
    Back to death.  Mom's been dead 5 years now, but I've still got nothing to show for it.  I feel like I lost the emotional baggage I'm supposed to carry due to her death somewhere in the airport of my youth.  No memories?  No sadness.  I guess that's why I'm smoking so much now.  To forget.
    My friends all say I'm a stoner now.  But really, all I am is a low-wage worker.  Smoking just comes with the gig.  If you aren't smoking, you're drinking.  If you aren't drinking, you're popping.  If you get extra tips or a bonus, you're snorting.
If you aren't doing anything, you're bound to lose it sometime.  Even with the smoking, I feel as though I'm already losing it.  And I'm not about to slip into another bad habit.
    When the fuck is something going to change?  I obviously can't do this myself.

i work at Jersey Mike's Subs

i make 6.60 an hour after taxes and i work ~30 hours a week

i'm no longer a virgin (since may)

still a nerd, though

got that goin' for me

PS IM GAY

themes?  you could probably guess them if you know me

confusion, egoism, angst, drugs

the basic teenage stuff, i guess

protagonist will probably just be me with a different name because i'm uncreative as hell

i don't know what i want my conflict to be, though

i was thinking homelessness, but i'd have to have some experience with that to really write about it

can't wait until i'm 18 so i can get out of this house

i've started taking a lot of shelter in sleep.  dreams are the only things that really keep me going.  i'm not depressed, I just want something new out of life.  I wanna be out of my house.  i've been having a lot of really weird dreams.  nothing scary, just weird.  I lucid dreamed for about 5 minutes or so and then woke up like two weeks ago.  it was gonna turn into something sexual but then I woke up for some reason.

i can feel myself getting dumber.

the show i went to last night (Natalie Portman's Shaved Head) was fuckin' awesome.  danced the whole way through but my neck's hurt all day since i woke up.  i woke up at 4 in the afternoon after 14 hours of sleep.  good times.

also i can't wait to read toph / moogy's comments on this livejournal post!  should be a blast!

the life of an artist is a process with two steps:

inspire and expire

- darby

300.

It's like rape.










Which means it's great.