raaaaaaa

i've adopted a new scarf, stolen from my mum, which i like to think makes me look like rupert the bear. it smells like wet barbecues and dogs, so naturally i love it. i'd also like to note that i don't like the casino brawl, the sticker was stolen from someone, and is there as a trophy, not because i like them. i haven't even heard them. are they good? i'm going to check.

i don't think they will be.

ANYWAY

before my awesome scarf, what was i going to say?

oh yeah, i read 'the virgin suicides' by jeffrey eugenides, and it was really good. like really really good. even though i felt a sense of general malaise after reading it, i still liked it. i think it's going to be a fairly important book to me. next up - middlesex by same author, and atlas shrugged by ayn rand.

minor annoyance - the runaways has no release date for the uk. this is a bit of a gutter since i've been looking forwards to complaining about kristen stewart ruining joan jett's good name. i assumed since it's had a lot of publicity it would be out over here, but that would be too easy. now i'll have to wait and wait and read everyone elses reviews while i wait.

can't wait - growing and trimming and not dyeing my hair so that eventually i can bleach it and be blaaaawnd again. it's pretty good at the moment, a relatively natural colour, and also of human hair consistency which it usually isn't. the roots look a bit dirty though, the colour it is is warmer than my natural mouse brown, so the roots look especially lank and greasy.. sexy times.

oh and i have a leeds ticket! that's right, i'm finally repealing my opinion on leeds fest and the bad name i've given it, and i'm scooting on down, because motherfucking HOLE ARE PLAYING. HOLE. HOLE. HOLE HOLE FUCKING HOLE. i'm so super psyched. courtney love in the flesh. i might make a sign, but that would be a bit sad. i'm definitely making a little leeds fur costume though, like the one i wore at the worlds end gallery. so that'll be nice. i had to be convinced to go though, since i hate camping, crowds, and most people. but either way, i'll be there.

currently listening to - cat power and the breeders and annie. good mix.

i'm going to go and buy cheap things off amazon yet again, so good times. might update writing a little bit later, feeling like i might have some good ideas.

ask me most things!

www.formspring.me/tangerinewolf

kfjhdsm

here are some things i have realised, primarily certain phrases that really mean other things:

'are you alright?' - 'i know you're not alright, clearly something is wrong, and i want to know what it is on an interest level, not because i want to help'

'i need some space' - 'there is a space you usually occupy near me, and i would like that space to be empty now because i do not want you to be near me'

'how are you?' - 'i want to talk about myself, and what with the tennis-like back and forth quality of most conversation, by asking you to talk about yourself i will then logically have to reciprocate with talking about myself'

'is there anything i can do?' - 'i feel bad that you feeling bad is putting a dampener on things so i'll offer to do something superficial for you that will help me feel better, but not necessarily you'

'i'll call you later' - 'i will not call you later'


my head is actually so sore right now that i am angry about it being sore so that makes it sorer and me angrier so on so forth ow ow ow ow owwwwwwww

BAARRGHHHH

i have once again become the sleepless wonder. nytol, a herbal sleeping aid that stinks, has done me no good.
i've been taking my vitamins, and putting lettuce in my food, and doing little pretendy sit ups, and yet i am not the very pinnacle of health itself. why not? it's not fair. i know i'm lazy, but what's the point in being a health freaky type? i mean, i could deny myself chocolate and run a mile every morning (that's entirely hypothetical and on a philosophical basis: i literally could in the sense of the word, but there is no way i actually could) but in the end i'll end up no less dead than if i shot heroin into my eyeballs every day.
i don't think i'll really care about having good muscletone when my corpse is found. there's no degrees of death, are there. if i hit someone in a car, and i am fat and unhealthy and lazy, and they are thin and beautiful and healthy: if we both die they're just as dead as i am. you can't stave off death indefinitely. sure, you'll live longer than me, sure, but i will have so much more fun because i can eat pizza. we'll both die, i'll just die more fulfilled. it isn't fair, because you can spend your life on a treadmill and when you die it doesn't matter at all and you might as well have not.
i'm sure i had an original point i was making then i went off on a tangent. useless though the nytol is, it does make me quite verbally sloppy. i had a half hour rant at my mum about why there is a chance there could be life on other plants. i don't even really believe or care about aliens. i was just doing it for the sake of ranting.

ahh i found my diary from last year, and read through it having not read it since i wrote it. it was freaky. i still find myself hilarious though, a family trait. i updated it, because there was a bit about goals i had, which included GET A JOB and GROW HAIR and GET GOOD A LEVELS. i told past me that i did get good A levels, cut off most of my hair and did get a job which i then did not have anymore. i kind of felt like a failure in past me's eyes.


one of these days i will get around to updating the stuff that i did in my sketchbook to here, but the scanner is downstairs and i am not. you can probably see my dilemma.

i got bored of being bored (har har har) and started attacking my old clothes, and i found an old free XXL resident evil promotional teeshirt i'd forgotten i had. so an hour later and i have turned it into a rather attractive dress! (it isn't really shit on the right side, at that point it was half-pinned in and hanging weirdly)

and shazam, instant new dress without having to leave the house or spend money. i think i'm going to pretend it's a really expensive designer brand, even though it was free and is clearly badly hemmed under the arms with navy blue embroidery thread. still, at least i have done something today. can't accuse me of not having done anything, because i have. so there.

ujhd

1. get mothers day present
2. get hairdryer
3. wash smelly smoke hoodie
4. drink more water
5. probably try and write more
6. get a job
7. fix wardrobe
8. trim fringe
9. generally be better

I'VE RUN OUT OF IDEAS AGAIN i can't think of a single thing to write around. i think creativity and being miserable are synonymous for me. the only thing i can think to write about is the fact that i can't think of anything to write. is that irony? oh yeah.
i wish i could write something along the lines of amanda palmer, but maybe it only works because she puts words to music. and i can't sing a note, write a tune, or play a single instrument. oh wait no, i tell a lie, i can play the aquafresh themetune on the ukelele. i will only do it when i am drunk. jesus. all the things in the world, and i can't think about a single thing to say that is good. all the conflict, the issues, literature, art, science, even telly, and i am still talking about my lack of ukelele prowess.

HELLO YOU GUYS

five whole followers all to myself! i think it's all from jemina pearl's blog, so even more kudos to her haha. but yeah, just to acknowledge anyone who reads the shit i write, i appreciate it. give yourselves a little pat on the back




did you do it? if you didn't, do it now.





ok, glad we did that, we're closer now. we've bonded spiritually. what wonderful times that we are in. i should go to bed or something, but i'm going to watch louis theroux's weird weekends instead.