be like the squirrel, girl, be like the squirrel
05.29.03 @ 6:24 p.m.
It's sad that I cannot listen to Elephant without doing my bad Meg-White-impersonating air drumming in at least one song. Just based on one of the episodes of Conan O'Brien that week the White Stripes were on everyday. I only saw one of them. I also taped it, but I'm pretty sure I taped over it. Eh. I think I am kind of obsessing over this album, but it's just new music rapture. I have to listen until I've sufficiently absorbed the album in question.
I talked to my friend Andrew last night. He's sad because he has to shave his fledgling mohawk off so as not to frighten his grandmother when he goes home. Or at least, that the best I can figure. I told him I was sad I never got to see it, and he promised to show me pictures some day. I think he intends to redo it next year. We also discussed dying my hair this summer. He thinks I should dye it red. And I mean red-red, not a color that a human being can naturally produce. We've tentatively agreed that we shall do something crazy with it this summer. The plan right now is to dye the edges bright red. I don't know why I think that would look cool, but we'll see. Maybe we'll decide on something else. I've never done anything to my hair, no chemicals have ever touched it, which makes me slightly nervous, but hey, I'd like to be more daring and distinctive.
I like talking to Andrew. Amy, Andrew tells me, gets 'miffed' that I actually initate conversations with him. Which is odd, because the end result is that I almost never talk to Andrew but I feel like I talk to Amy the most out of anyone on AIM with the exception of Rachel in California, who always insta-IMs me when one of us logs on. Slavik gets the award for longest average conversation, since I almost always spend at least an hour talking to him. I am supressing a giggle at that thought. I read through an old conversation I saved this afternoon and am consequently feeling very fuzzy toward him.
Shame on me. I should not allow myself to get all weird again. I think I am just enamoured with anyone that displays good taste.
I'm getting hungry and am actually finding myself working on my project, so a short entry for now. It's also worth mentioning that today I decided that there is at least one non-musician poet I like a lot: Billy Collins, the American Poet Laureate. My favorite is Litany.
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
