all running away ever did was remind you that this has all happened before.

a nice weekend punctuated by a lot of candy corn and unexpected sugar induced hyper-ness.

oh, terry gilliam, who cuts your hair?

i expected that party to just be proof of how completely and totally unpopular i am. but i think the extent of my unpopularity is still sort of vague.

though, no, wait. it's nice to know that i have friends that aren't totally retarded. it was a serious good time. just the right amount of people came (though there was room for one more person plus a cake!). there were no complications at all. except for that time that lindsay spilled salsa on the carpet.

besides that, our apartment looks nice now. i have a lamp. i've never ever had a lamp. this lamp is so awesome. my room looked horrible in the sterile, bright, breast light glow. now it is moody and fancy and sexy with the stylish brown lamp shade from target. it is perfect for not being in there ever and only showing the contents of the room from the outside. i mean, maybe it looks too good now. unapproachably good. god, it's so intimidating. i don't even know if i can sleep in there anymore.

some musical news:

they played rhinoceros on the radio today. thank you.

the dears are playing in ann arbor tomorrow night (the 18th) at the blind pig. meghan, you should see them because they are awesome!

i want to play music! seriously! guys!

house-warming party at my house tomorrow night. 8 o'clock. serious.

i can't believe it. you can be certain. i can't believe anything.

i've been spending the entire weekend with my roommate, courtney, and our new friends yukari and rie. we saw kill bill. i've been to bremerton. they have been teaching us japanese and we have been teaching them senseless words in english. it is a senseless time.

also, people, stop being retarded.

my very popular and famous roommate has amazing luck with all of the ladies. or, it seems he recently has. i don't know how to feel about all of this because i'm trying so very hard to be apathetic. apathy is not accustomed to effort. i also hate saying "amazing luck with all the ladies."

i am also the anti-luck. except when i'm not. but with girls, yes. almost consistent.

i would care about all of this, except that i don't. except that i do. but not so much. only so much as to think it's funny. i've recently been put in the somewhat fortunate position that allows me to think all of my misfortune is funny. perhaps this is a bit of dissociation. that is funny. i think i would be mostly happy if getting lucky consisted of an extra body falling asleep in my lap while i played the legend of zelda. on a somewhat regular basis. and maybe baking cakes. and, oh, sleeping. sleeping is so great. word games. walking all the way down to the dock, coming back with a count of every step and throwing pillows, towels, soap and cardboard boxes at me. basically i want someone to be really boring with me. i've got the romance all worked out. apply in person. pick up your script. it will be great.

go to this place and vote for Imperial Otter. yo! prove your love! even if you don't know why!

i don't like my face sometimes.

i got some flu with my new apartment.

there are a lot of songs i want to write. i want them to make sense to everyone. or, to whoever i am writing them to. there is an opportunity with these things to make everything okay if only they were heard as pleas instead of just music. or maybe they are just whining. i'm going to whine until you are sick.

p.s. bauhaus is the new retro-popular.