Up to speed

Polka plays in background at Baines.

My internet is down. So I'm here.

T-2 for the whole school business.

Felt like I was in some collegiate prison last year.

Now I feel like I need to kill someone to get back in.

POP POP!

Listening in about how America has been taken over by Satan. Duh, could have told you that. I think the Devil may be a great painter.

Had conversation with Jude about who his favorite painter is. Answer: "Have you ever been to the modern art museum? They make art out of cabinets."

"I dig modern art."

I'm searching for bigger and better music, but right now I'm just craving bluuuuueeeeegraaaassssss. Yessir!

Wrote a story last night about going to the coast. Total nostalgia coma. It felt good until my computer crashed. It's hard to be inland.

I hope you can follow this.

Sister has friends over. It's lonely here. People are employed at leaving and going away. I'm employed at drinking coffee (which I have taken back up, next thing you know it will be cigarrettes and the banjo) and paying taxes.

Finished Lolita, made me cry. You know you're a good author when you can make someone cry about statutory rape. Or it could have been a good seasonal cry, or the fact I haven't ran. Or the fact it is sad. What a drag.

Starting the Princess Bride, thinking about starting some design collages. I'm no good at art. But I can foist it (vocab word).

What if my English teacher found out I had a blog? She'd be hip with it. Same women has a bumper sticker in honor of Bruce Springstein on the back of her Jeep. I'm pretty sure I'm the only kid to get that reference in the last 10 years.

Shooting camp finished (looks at watch) Thursday, worthless watch, lots of fun, played some backyards water pong, or at least watched some. Got in a fight about Obama and how 'they be taken' all mah guns away'. Something like that.

Lanyards are for lame fools.

I'm employed at breaking necks.

Come visit. I'm going to hide and move in with somebody at their dorm room. I miss college kids.

You're right Todd, it's going to be a long year.

New art form (from the princess bride?), filling balloons with paint and the shooting them, for practice, I think fun, yes!

I'm addicted to my new Colt pistol, fashoooore.

Eh scup ayy

Can you give me a morning call?
I'm escaping these walls
and catching a train to San Jose.

He said, it's got a red caboose,
travels fast down to the border
and is steaming for the shore

If I can get out of this hole hell
in the morning hours
I can jump aboard real safe

Cause the beating police
carry a whopping piece
and I just can't share my brains

So call me up,
fore the sun comes up
and I can get a jump real clean

I've got hobo friends
be travelin' with 'em
and they lend me a helping hand

I don't know where I'll go
but if it comes to blows
I'll get off and head to town

I'll buy me a horse
take a straight course for where else
and take up weaving baskets

Ther' End.

Saw the worst decision driving down the road tonight. Ugly thunderbird and te smartest guy in school, driving around with a beard and one of the oddest and most sheltered girls I know. It's just a reaaalllly bad decision on his part. I hope one day he doesn't have to find out just how bad.

I find walking through the woods, and just walking in general, not running, helps put the whole writining fire in my head. That and my English summer course workbook "1100 words you need to know"

And with that I'm going to go watch the stars.

"Don't do anything risky"

Chris Brown!

This blog goes out to my besty for L1FE, Chris. I think you might be 8 years old now. And you're my cross country coaches' son. You'll probably grow up to be a terrorist. When you steal my frisbee and throw it at people, hard, it only makes us better friends. And when you say my name with your definitive lisp that they will have to correct through your whole elementary school career it makes me feel bad for you. So here's to you, spiderman. May you be climbing walls and jumping fences and running around like your pants have been set on fire by 3 hobos that just ain't got no fire wood. I raise my glass. Best fwennnndddsss. No seriously, my name is Kate, not Katie.

Gak!

I Missed You!

"Wow, you were growing older out there, look at your skin, you so tan gurrlll."
"Blog, I'm sorry to have neglected you!"
"Fuck you, did you go spelunking!?"
"...No."
"Then you have failed me and every word you type, we are now going to grow as limp as a clock in a Salvador Dali painting and fall off the page as you type... OOOOoooOOo nooOOO slipping. Now if your going to put down elephant shit poems you have to go eat worms off of Billy Idol's face to earn our trust back, the trust that you won't leave us so lonely and cold out where creepy old men can read your thoughts and actions...."
"I'm sorry! I thought about you when I was driving my car around with children under 16 in the back seat!"
"Not hard enough! Think harder! Let me see your toilet face!"
"I don't do any...."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!"
"Ehr?"

__________ Blog's Back!____________________________

Futurama

"Why was that the first thing to come to mind?"
"Little Pussy?"
"Yes! Why was the ghastly fuzzy creature put into your mouth from your head, from your tiny little brain cells, in which small cheesy grits slip into holes filling out words in an elimination process. Whever the sheesy grits land is where a letter won't be produced because the letter cannot fall through the hole because of artery clogging cheesy grits."

....


So for college essays

works of art for common app:

>> my first run in with Paul McCartney

>> Microcosmos

>>first Dr. Seuss reading experience

>>Andy Goldsworthy

>>Levi van Veluw

>> Cross Creek

Traveling Sleep

Bad dreams in a strange bed as your neighbor sleeps on and on. You turn on the tv, you turn it on, only to here its static song. Telephone lights of people in far off places, with nothing to do but send you the messages about their life. Wanting attention. Your stomach rumbles as you get up and walk around quietly, shuffling your feet, groaning, blurry eyed with sleep and bad vision. The clock glows a red six o four. The silence is too grave for sleeping, outside is too dangerous for waking. Washing your face off in the mirror you stumble back in bed, which is cold now, unbearably so. Your mind drifts. Complimentary breakfest, ha, that's what we're all waiting for.

Soc(her)

I may have drunk thirty gallons of water. Ah water, tasty water.

And it was watching 30 boys sprint into dorms for bedtime.

And today soccer camp was done. It was my first taste of the insanity and training that are involved, (and skill) of these superhuman girls that I was going to camp with. They were man fast, they didn't look down, they dribbled past you in a flurry of adidas climate cool shorts and generic soccer t-shirts, doing pull backs and volleys and turns until your calves grew weary from your controlled watch on the ball (and their hips) and you melted to a puddle on the turf with heat and despair. But then you got a water break and you did it again. With a positive additude and some pizza in your stomach.

So now I'm reading Ender's Game, staying up late after a midday nap, blogging, listening to Frank Zappa and watching parts of Heathers that I can't remember word for word... because it's on Youtube. Tomorrow consists of evening out my soccer tan, packing for Tennessee and working. Not very interesting for now, but I must prepare myself with the uninteresting so I can savour the interesting, the incredibly interesting familia road trips. I'm dissapointed hat the Grand Ole Oprey isn't in refurbished yet. :[

Tonight I had a long discussion over how old farmhouses rank over most new houses for "livability". I find them very attractive. Sort of like black and white stenciling and leather couches.

Summer song.

Summer is many things. An escalation of heat mirages. A dip in the creek of a neighbor. A heat stroke mid July.

It's when the flowers of the roadside are grey with dust, and so is the sky, an orange haze sweeping over the mountains in a gauzy fog, blurring out their crisp silhouettes from the dimming day.

When the oil runs like water, a heated syrup dripping from every nozzle of every gas pump for miles and many more miles.

It's the popping of the ears in a pool ten feet deep, with skin drenched in chlorine.

When the tanning oil babies run to the sand, and lay there, throwing their bodies on the Earth, belly down, their skin sizzling.

The sound of chalk dust on concrete. The sound of bicycles whirring away down hills at night. The taste of Kosher hot dogs on the air.

It's a midnight sparkler.

A heat filled room. Stifling, with no breeze.

It's sandals full of well... sand.

The late night shindigs thrumming a house up with yellow light and conversational voices, echoing out across a star filled lake.

It's slippery when wet. It's a flash flood. A downpour that was unexpected.

It's the night bugs rasping out their Summer song all night long.

Jahahahahaha (Mexican Laughter)

Best Facebook Message I've Ever Been Sent Goes Something Like---

"Yeah so I deff just face book stalked the hell out of you lol, went through trevs friends just had to say sorry about being short with you to day I was late to getting my rabies shot. Nice seeing you tho..."


I appreciate this. The nice touches like, getting his rabies shot. Must be protected from those crazed mooses.