suddenly it's '63 again and Hitchcock is livin' it up

There's currenty a swarm of birds perched on the telephone wires outside of my window, swooping back and forth.

Black birds, tiny brown ones, pigeions.

There's something in my neighbors backyard. Dead body, maybe?

No, wrong kind of birds.

It's gonna rain soon. Heavily, hopfeully. I'm looking forward to it.

Coveting a typewriter charm on the ebay. I kind of want it really badly. Hence the used of the term 'coveting'.

Thanks public school education!

hulk smash

I hate how youtube keeps filling my subscirption box with videos I've already watched.

I feel like I should say something more profound.

Um, when in doubt find Jesus?

Or Edward Norton.

Either works.

so twirl around in your fuckin skirt and give us a curtsey we'll remember

Mm, Warped Tour season. A special time of year for many. A Christmas of sorts to those kids who anticipate it eagerly all year round, counting down the days on their respective calenders, packing sun block and water bottles in preparation, waking up early on their state's date to rush to the tour's new location, and partake in their own festive rituals of summertime punk-rock fun.

Whether it be getting stoned with some friends in the parking lot and crowd surfing to every band even if they don't know who it is. Waiting hours to meet worshipped idols in the burning sun just to get crumpled posters signed and take a flushed pics with cheap digital cameras. Running from stage to stage all day just to see everyone they want to see. Starting circle pits from eleven in the morning to eight at night.

Warped tour is it's own very special type of suicide. You basically pay $40 to run around in the sun for twelve hours, spend even more money on fucking water, lose your friends and spend hours trying to call them, constantly get approached by guys in bands who want to sell you their CDs and merch, get sun burned like a mofo, and watch every other person there walk around with FREE HUGS written somewhere on them.

But it's worth it. To see all these awesome bands just play for people. I got to see Less Than Jake, Anti-Flag, After Midnight Project, NOFX, Gallows, and Bad Religion. Plus, a little part of Flogging Molly and Escape the Fate (though I really wasn't listening to EtF, just waiting for friends).

I'm not even going to fucking talk about the ONE MEASLY SONG I got to hear from the Architects because it took FORFUCKINGEVER to find the motherfuckin' stage. NARG. AND THEY PLAYED AT LIKE, 11:15. I MEAN, WHAT THE HELL.

Also missed out on seeing Aiden and Madina Lake, but I'll recover. Not my fault the times conflicted.

Bouncing Souls weren't even there. Though I will get to see them in August at Webster Hall. Which was, ironically enough, the reason they didn't play the Long Island show. Still, it isn't any less soul crushing.

Never trust those Jersey bands, they'll just end up breaking your heart.

danger will robinson, danger

Currently bleaching hair. Burns like a bitch. Nothing I'm not used to.

Psyched for the Green Day show in Chicago Sunday. So, so fucking pumped. I imagine this is how a suicide bomber must feel anticipating virgins in the afterlife.

Ah, it itches so fucking badly. I still have like an hour of waiting before I can shower.

I saw Green Day at Webster Hall back in May, the day after my 16th birthday. And I can't even really descibe how amazing it was. Maybe it was years of build-up from having wanted to see them so badly since I was like, 10 years old. Maybe they're just amazing preformers. Maybe both. I don't care. It was just...so epic.

Met so many cool people there. At a lot of shows I feel alienated, like everyone belongs to some exclusive club that I'm denied access to. Not the case with Green Day. Everyone just wanted to see a good show, and knew there was no reason to start shit or fuck with other people.

And you think, if you're going to a concert, then all the other people that are going to see the same thing will just want that--to see a good show and have an awesome time.

Not the case.

It may seem like such a small thing, but it's really hard to like some bands just because of their fanbase.

*cough*Mychemicalromance*cough*

It's just...I don't know how to decribe it, other than shows are like their own tiny microcosms (thankyou, ninth grade english class). Depending on where you are, your microcosm may contain x-amount of assholes. Like the Crazy Donkey--most shows there are at like, nine on a Tuesday night with most people just there for drinks on Long Island, so you're gonna have a lot of assholes. MSG, you're gonna have a lot of people going to the show just because it's at MSG in New York, so you're gonna have a lot of assholes.

Then there's Warped Tour at the Colliseum--where everyone's there for their own favorite bands and it's too hot to fuck with people. So there is significantly less asshole-age. Or a show at Webster Hall where a dude will pay two hundred dollars in quarters for a ticket that he stole out of his parents fishbowl of change.

My hair's done now--all light and blond. Kind of don't know what else to write about, so I'll end it with this:

Through love and honor only can your journey be worth the desitination.

Also, you will find prosperity in the stock market.

Thank you Ho-Ching Chinese Food for your words of wisdom.

do the hellen keller and talk like a deaf/blind/mute

Suuuuuurvey. That I found. Somewhere (possibly over the rainbow).

Describe yourself
If Chris Crocker and Mary Poppins had a baby.

Success is
"IIIIIITS THE CLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMB."

People say I look like
Marylin Monroe if she’d gained 100 pounds and was epic!Italian

My biggest fear is
Becoming my father. And Bill Murray in a dark alley.

What is the best compliment you've gotten?
I don’t know…there are just so many to choose from…god, I'm such a fucking BAMF.

Your celebrity dream date is
HUGH JACKMAN. OHMYGODHUGHJACKMAN.

My first ever boyfriend would say I am
Complete silence. Never had a boyfriend. My first girlfriend, however...

If your ideal man is a coffee, he'd taste
I want to say like French Vanilla but that sounds a little too gay. Then again, maybe that is my ideal man…

What's the biggest fashion turn-off?
Guys who go for that fucking Tokio Hotel-like shit hair.

I like it when a man wears
nothing...maybe a sock to cover his ugly penis.

What do you have in your grooming closet?
What the fuck is a grooming closet? Like a vanity or something? Eye makeup…tweezers…because I’m Italian.

If you could invent anything for men, what would it be?
attractive looking genitals

The last time I teared up was
FUCKING WATCHED MY SISTERS KEEPER THE OTHER DAY—SERIOUSLY FIVE SECONDS IN AND MY EYES FUCKING WELLED UP LIKE I WAS JUST KICKED IN THE BALLS.

The albums I have on rotation are
21ST Century Breakdown. ITSSOGOOD. And Bright Eyes I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning

My relationship deal-breaker is
vagina. That can be taken one of two ways...

Biggest turn-ons about a man are
intelligence. Abortion jokes. A covered penis.

I get fired up over
awesome porn. LOLJK. That’s an oxymoron.

Most people don't know I'm
not a lesbian. IKNOWRIGHT?

My guilty pleasure is
I have no conscious, therefore I can never feel this guilt of which you speak...maybe Gilmore Girls.

When I'm a mother, the advice I'd give my teenage son is
LITTLE GIRLS ARE THE DEVIL. FOOSEBALL IS THE DEVIL.

When I'm a mother, the advice I'd give my teenage daughter is
keep your mind open and your legs closed.

Most romantic thing you've done?
halfway through the salad, I went, “put it in? Now?”

What did you do last night?
Went to Blockbuster. On a Jake Gyllenhaal kick. Donnie Darko, Zodiac….

My best pick-up line is
Is that a mirror in your pocket? Because I can see myself in your pants…

My biggest regret is
that I did this survey

I think Rihanna should
never do this survey.


Fun times, right?

i'm taking home a baby bumblebee...

The rain is coming back. I can hear the thunder. It's in time with the beat of my heart.

Somewhat depressed. Hopefully a good thunderstorm will do that whole turning of the frown thing.

I have to organize my bookshelf--get everything in order. Today might be the day I'm finally killed by a serial murderer, and when the news crews film my room (semi-monotone female newscaster talking about how much of a beloved and talented girl I was at only 16) I want America to see my awesome book collection in it's full glory.

Lightening comes in bold flashes--dancing bodies against Dumbo-gray skies. I hope it pours.

I just reread his entry--mygod, how fucking teen angst can someone cram into one blog? Christ. I'm not that dark.

First rain drops are falling. A heavy drizzle. The thunder's getting closer, and now it's only a matter of time.

Fucking bumblebee--go back under the shed. You're going to drown if you stay out in the open. Please Mr. Bumblebee? Please?

The drops are heavy enough now that they ting against the metal of my air conditioner.

Thunder boom--the floor of my room just shook. I could feel it in my bones. Intimate. The storm is my lover.

It's really pouring now--it's got this town by it's neck. It's suffocating it. Drowning it. And I'm front and center to it all.

But just like any good lover, it'll be gone by morning. Wandering to wherethefuckever for it's next stand. To caress someone with rain, make them tremble with thunder, penetrate them with lightening. So perfect, so good, so wet.

...Shit, where the fuck is my Plan-B? Allergic to latex my ass.