cathedral

My life sucks. Feel pity for me. Offer me consolation. Care about my feelings and my opinions. Touch me in places I've never been touched before. Know that when the day comes, I won't remember your name. I will remember what you made me think and feel, but I won't remember what you look like. I'll replace your face with a more aesthetically pleasing image. Your voice will never be like your voice. It will be what I find soothing. I don't care about your hair or your clothes. Frankly, I think you look like shit. But Goddamn, you better like my clothes. Not that I really give a fuck, but you better say you do. Why? Because you don't want to hurt my feelings. I said you don't want to hurt my feelings. You taste in music and films and literature only makes you acceptable to be around now, but in the not to distant future I won't remember who you cherished most in that one novel or what you thought about that girl in that movie. You'll like what I like, because you won't be here, except in my mind. At night, when the lights go out, it's just you and me.

I don't like NiN's new album. I think it is way overrated. Now, I've never been a huge fan in the first place, but I could at least enjoy the stuff from a previous era. This new stuff is horrible. Same with the new Weezer disc. Everything I've heard is just so... boring. You can listen to the radio and all the music just blurs into one single smooth melody of background noise. When I was at the Warped Tour a few days ago, Offspring came out for the final show. It's funny how all the lil boys and girls could only sing the newer songs. Of course, they only went as far back as Smash, but what can you expect. Ask, and none of the audience could have told you what Ignition sounded like. Doesn't that fucking make me cool?

Since I'm on a rant and spieling my opinion like someone actually gives a fuck-and you better give a fuck-whats with these girlies undies that look like boys tighty-whiteys? When it comes down to it, I don't want to see her in something that I might wear under my fucking work pants, all covered in machine oil and metal. I want something sexy or innocent or smooth or nothing at all. But that isn't up to me, and besides, I can remember her in something else when they are all long gone.

This is my first journal entry. I tried to take some pictures of myself, but I'm too fucking stupid to know how to look good. Can you tell that I'm angry?