being clever is like eating iceberg lettuce - totally pointless, but it always seems like the right thing to do.

some people are just made for hurting.

- eating corn dogs.
- applying for jobs.
- going to poetry slams.
- being socially inept.
- not being fun to hang out with.
- drawring.
- embarassing self by leaving drawrings on dormroom doors.
- re-learning how to write songs.
- listening to CUFF THE DUKE.
- tripp.
- fall.
- rock.
- ing.

jacob: i'm drawing a boy with no eyes now...
lindsay: why?!?!??!?!?!!?
lindsay: they are scary!!!!!!!!!!1
lindsay: like, every other part of them is pretty and cute and then you look into their eyes and you are like AGH NO JESUS CHRIST and they are hellspawn

drawring with markers

if i were rich, i think i would spend a lot of money on japanese design books, notebooks, pens and fashion magazines.

i went to kinokuniya with claire and lindsay yesterday. claire bought a cute pink plaid notebook and lindsay almost bought a tan wallet thing but didn't and i wanted to buy everything but couldn't. it was still a good time even though we didn't get to spend much time with claire. i think i like shopping with people when there are stylish things and it is entertaining.

then i backed into another car.

then i almost bought a cowboy shirt that i really liked but lindsay said it was totally obvious that it was girl's shirt, but come on, i wear a lot of girl's clothes already and it doesn't even matter because i didn't have money to buy it. OH MONEY OH!!?

i also saw the matrix with lindsay and jason and i just want to say: what the fuck was with the dance party??

i would like to find an open mic to go to and sing songs, but i can't seem to get it together. i need a manager. DUDE.

i am in a very matter-of-fact mood. <3 <3

i want to write sickly sweet sonnets about strands of hair and moles and goosebumped necks and teeth scraping skin and saliva on clothes and fingernails on thighs and the residue of your lungs on my chest.

there is a huge mutant fly buzzing around my head and he keeps getting dangerously close to my mouth and i'm afraid that he'll find his way in and i don't want to smash him for whatever strange reason...

if i could live my life only having non sequitur conversations, everything would be so much easier. or harder. or just the same.

i did really crappy sketches all day long today and yesterday. here are some:

she doesn't know what she wants

self portrait in headstand

an inspired sketch

a lunch pail is a safer place than a sleeve?

my right ear can hear again.

i have nothing else to show for today.

also, the defeatist part of me thinks that i will never learn how to spell wednsday correctly. wedeneseday. wenedesay. wedsday. wednesday. goddamnit.

seriously, enough with the penis enlarging emails!!!!!!!!

i probably write the most annoying emails ever.

p.s. i am a bowl full of self-deprecation today. also, i did the dishes. angry face.

today was such a confusing day. graphic design and judge judy and near misses and mike tyson and lufia. wow. p-hew.

i woke up yesterday deaf in my right ear. i suppose it is an ear infection. i am half a person.

also, john. i'm mentioning john. now john is happy. maybe.

i am so disoriented. you have no idea. i hope my ear at least stays attached.

there is some orchestra in town going around and playing david bowie songs while people dance around behind them or in front of them or something. this is interesting.

i am writing a book. i mean this in a very pretentious way. because, let's be honest, everyone is pretentious and i certainly have a right to be every once in a while. i do not pretend that i know the first thing or the second thing or even the fifty-sixth thing about writing an actual book, but goddamnit i am writing a book. i have been writing it since may of last year, but it has been in the conceptual stages for a good three years now. the story is vague and lacks cohesion and structure, but reading over what i have already written consistently tears me apart. and, from there, i have no idea who or what i'm writing this for.

because of that fucking line, "life is so goddamn romantic when you write it down," but the seconds just evaporate and are worthless when you leave them to their own devices, without any medium except for memory. i feel this constant need to rip out a part of me (a physical part) and just leave it somewhere to be pondered over. a part that still feels and lives who i am, but from it pours out colors and shapes and sounds. myself, my body, as art. i am frustrated and i try too hard to make these things - everything. fucking everything. songs and pictures and photographs and words and it's all too much, but it never seems to be enough.

i am so frustrated as an artist, or not as an "artist," because i always said that i wasn't. and i don't think i am. i feel like an honest to god sham at times. but i catch myself in arrogant postures, saying "yes, i am an artist, i know what is aesthetically pleasing. step aside young sir/madame!" and i want to step outside and scold this line dotted version of myself for being so abrasive and confident. because it's a lie. it's a boldfaced lie.

i like what i do. but i hate it, also. i want to destroy everything and i want to create everything. i want the world to be a beautiful place and i want to stand in astonishment of it all once again. no more of this sleepy eyed apathetic bullshit. i want love. i want it to be that simple. i really do. i want my art to be an afterthought - like leaving pounds of artistic, cathartic flesh on walls and carpets and eyes wherever i go. and hearts, or whatever. and hearts. if i can carve myself into your heart, some pressure will be relieved.

eddie bauer called me back for a phone interview. i don't even really know much about eddie bauer, except that they put their names on random things and it somehow makes those things more valuable. also, the store sells mostly clothes. and also that they called me back. that is what i know. i'm not even sure if i like the clothes, but i certainly told them that i did.

maybe they will see that i am quite the stylish kid - who can also kind of draw - and suddenly send me to "the corporate office" where i will start to design clothes for them and all of you will want to shop there because it will be cool, or whatever.

i am a graphic designer. i design graphics and other such semi-useful things. let me do what i was maybe not born to do but have taught myself to do anyway!!