Someday We Will Die And Somehow Something's Gonna Steal Our Carbon
I finished listening to the new Silverchair album (it's alright) and now I'm watching Grosse Point Blank. I love John Cusack, even after the travesty that was the movie Identity.
My 10-year high school reunion is next year and I've decided I'm not going. I will be graduating from college right about when it's going to be scheduled, and I don't want to have to go in to a room full of people my age who have spouses and kids and jobs and pets and mortgages and ulcers and explain that I'm still going to 21st birthday parties and getting stomped in mosh pits. I'm such a failure at being an adult. I'm damn glad I decided to go back to college and drag myself out of the retail hell that a lot of my contemporaries consigned themselves to, but I sure don't want to explain myself to the likes of the kids I went to high school with. There aren't many of them I'd like to see anyway, and the thought of going back to my hometown to stare rampant meth addiction in its pit-skinned, rotten-toothed face seems pretty unappealing.
Apparently I'm stuck into going to Modest Mouse with the original invitee. I guess it's not all bad. The concert is on 4-20 which promises to be the most annoying thing ever, but I plan on being pretty drunk through the whole night so it'll work itself out. Or else I'll sleep it off in a jail cell. You know, whatever comes up.
My 10-year high school reunion is next year and I've decided I'm not going. I will be graduating from college right about when it's going to be scheduled, and I don't want to have to go in to a room full of people my age who have spouses and kids and jobs and pets and mortgages and ulcers and explain that I'm still going to 21st birthday parties and getting stomped in mosh pits. I'm such a failure at being an adult. I'm damn glad I decided to go back to college and drag myself out of the retail hell that a lot of my contemporaries consigned themselves to, but I sure don't want to explain myself to the likes of the kids I went to high school with. There aren't many of them I'd like to see anyway, and the thought of going back to my hometown to stare rampant meth addiction in its pit-skinned, rotten-toothed face seems pretty unappealing.
Apparently I'm stuck into going to Modest Mouse with the original invitee. I guess it's not all bad. The concert is on 4-20 which promises to be the most annoying thing ever, but I plan on being pretty drunk through the whole night so it'll work itself out. Or else I'll sleep it off in a jail cell. You know, whatever comes up.
spit at you by Nil at 10:36 PM
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