A big FUCK YOU from 2nd Ave and 6th Street. East Village - home of the condescending crafty hipsters and starving musicians/artists. You can just feel the condescension when entering this village - it's what separates its from the other, the more friendly and welcoming of the two.

And to join in their condescension is me - climbing a traffic light.

Behind me is a dumpster in the back lot of my dorm. Prison - I know. But skating is liberating. It was a good day.

So this semester has seen its improvements. but -

Im dead... or maybe still breathin but trying not to.

This is dead. Bad habit list #10.

Internet is not real, so get over it. I dont mean to say that I wont use it but theres a real world out there. I'll still be on and around but the entries seem to be running out. And in this funeral, it shall hold its place in the even larger history of me. To chronicle ones own history is impossible: it morphes our own reality when it blurs fact and fiction. That line that differentiaties those two entities is partial to your glories rather than your misfortunes. It paints a perfect picture... but somewhere in there are reasons to prove otherwise.

The internet is so luring, so attractive, so fashionable, yet it destroys us. We were ignorant of it then indifferent to it, then attracted, then consumed, and now dependent on an existance that has no tangibility, no capturability - no feel to

touch.

We create lives, commerce, society, law, interaction, and the arts in it, and its so attracting because its so

 new and shiny.

But I'm pretty content with where I stand - no need to have an autobiography of stupid, brilliant, drunk, or emotional moments.

I havent achieved anything great, yet.

Peace out kids.

____________________________________________________________________

Vacation...

So, this is it. I'm gone for a month, separated from NYC, my beloved NYC and those who inhabit it. It's weird; with the unrelenting pressures of school looming over your head, NYC can be one hell of a bumpy ride littered with all-nighters, 65 cent coffees, punk music in heavy rotation, anger, and stress. Now that I've had a few days to breathe in New York and relax with nothing to do, I could only wish I would call this place my home. But alas, vacation is much needed and home is much needed.

I know a few days there will make my soul beg my body to cart itself back to NYC to be reunited with everything that I associate with this grandeur place. I can hardly wait to come back and breathe it all in, whether stressful or stress free. It will be nice to inhale that familiar stale urine stench and know that you're home.

Peace kiddos.
And have a fucking great vacation and bring in the new year with some fucking edge and style.

fucking makeover. yet again. I'm fickle... so kill me.

So the recap of the last few days... I paraded around the dorms in unrelentless search of something to occupy my time so that I may distract myself from actually having to study. Where do you think I am? At some defined pinnacle of my educational career at an elite and overpriced institution that molds and (con)forms a great philosophical, mathematical, and political mind? Yeah, I guess that would be NYU. Instead, I blew some lines of coke, tripped on acid, rolled on e, dipped, dropped, cut, iced, flipped, lit up, jetted, huffed, holed, kicked, banged, blasted, blotted, morfed, nitro-ed, roxxed, smoked, dusted, twisted, fired, flaked, flashed, gacked, geezed, and blazed.

Or so I wish I was so drugged that I am now numbed to any sensation - brought to new elevations and new horizons. But I digress, for I just wallow in boredom and a vicious cycle that requires me to hit the books instead of the fun. The break is so close. I can sniff... err smell it. Sigh. Just one more bump in the road and not the nose, you druggies.

e   x    h    a    u    s    t    e   d       ... no other way to describe how i feel right now.

(dedicated to Linda)

Well, everytime I seem to propel myself forward I'm met by some horrible backlash that puts me another step behind square one. I dont know. Sometimes I feel like I should stop caring but part of me can never give up. What would life be without aspirations or goals or things to live for? I suppose it couldn't be much worse than now. Is ignorance really bliss? Sometimes I would argue that it is, and now would be one of those moments. What the hell am I doing here? At school, on this earth? The one thing that serves as the strongest and most predominating motivation to wake up in the morning, seems so out of reach. Sometimes I feel like it's unattainable and I'm some pathetic hopeless dreamer lost in REM while being completely conscious. I'm trapped. I know someone has the key. Come and let me out, before I bludgeon myself against the heavy iron bars that confine me to myself.

Its a brand new day, but the same old thing. Inspire me.