mylady

Oooh, a whole bunch of goodness fell upon me yesterday. And when I speak of goodness, I mean me receiving quite a few cds into my possession. If I had a digital camera, I'd take pictures of myself holding up each individual case, but since that cannot happen, I'll stick to listing them:

Epoxies: Stop the Future
Sisters of Mercy: Floodland
A Silver Mt. Zion: Pretty Little Lightning Paw
A Silver Mt. Zion: Horses in the Sky
Pelican: The Fire in Our Throats Will Beckon the Thaw
Red Sparowes: At the Soundless Dawn
Amelie, The Soundtrack

And Pelican: Australasia is still en route.

Truth be told, the Epoxies was an impulse buy today while out with KC. The guy working at Ernie November's (Billings' only indie/punk cd store) did, however, tell me that he likes them too, and that the Epoxies may very well be playing in Billings on or around Oct. 7th. I think I know where I'll be, and that's not Missoula, studying.

Only crappy days lay ahead. Tonight was fine with my parents at the Olive Garden, until the ride home. My dad was talking about true happiness, and his lies in a home on Maui, to which my mom said "true happiness comes from within." We shared a little laugh, since it was in good taste and not malicious. Then on the ride home, he just comes from nowhere with a smart ass and very aggressive response to what she said at dinner.

We can tell when he's getting pissy, and it's never good. The three of us have had to resort to walking on eggshells for the past couple years, so as to not light his fuse. Obviously, that's not a healthy way to live, but that's what we've been doing. The wear is showing too: my mom is exhausted from putting everything in perspective for my dad, trying to keep him happy. Lindsey and I have made comments to her that if he doesn't realize what he is doing, we're not coming back to Billings in future summers.

I still have little to no direction for my life. The occupation of desire now is a chef. Not just any run of the mill chef, I want to be involved with haute cuisine, if such a term exists. Because I have such a limited vocabulary, and because my mind pictures what I want better than it does in describing them, I'll just say that I don't want to end up on the grill in a mom n' pop diner.

My cat Charlotte is sitting my lap. I'm pretty content with that.

Not much else happening. I'm trying to get through A Clockwork Orange again. Funny. I don't recall having this much of a problem with the language the last time I read it.

Also just starting Choke, by Chuck Palahniuk. So far, it is his typical style, which I enjoy.

Ahh, now I remember why I wanted to quit this site not too long ago. It's the stupid ass rants people put in their journals. I won't name shit 'cause that's how I roll, but seriously, live life and experience it, don't fucking sit around with some dumbass friend, baked, and discuss the meaning of life and think you're more original than Kierkegaard, Weil, etc. Fuck. Cock. Balls.

Nice.

Still wishing I had a girlfriend.