when i click on my "Friend Of" tab i get two names. i don't know either of those people, i've never had any communication with them, and neither of them are active... who /are/ these people?
so it's friday. i feel like making a big entry, even though nobody will read it, just because it's friday and ... and today feels full-to-bursting. i actually got out of bed before 10am this morning. i walked to Dunkin Donuts for breakfast, listened to Depeche Mode's "Black Celebration" while walking, and wrote a postcard to my friend Claudia while i was there. stopped at the post office on the way back.
i started reading Dorian Gray. i spent some time digitizing music. two hours sketching sexy ladies and thinking about the inevitable demise of my own libido. went biking.
and it's only five thirty. i can accomplish /so much/ in a day without having to go to work. work is like the very opposite of accomplishing anything. you could probably get more important things done with your head up your ass for 8 hours a day that you could in Cubicle Hell.
i thought i'd made up "cubicle hell," and then i found out that the Dilbert guy uses it. now i don't know if it got into my head through mass subliminal messaging from the media. oo, paranoia.
sometimes i wish i was a bachelor. there's nothing glamorous about it, but nobody bitches at you for wanting playing cards with naked chicks on them.
EDIT/UPDATE
i feel used. abused. cheap and ashamed. and trapped. i should be happy- i got laid. but i feel sick. i feel sick. - and nobody knows and nobody cares.
so it's friday. i feel like making a big entry, even though nobody will read it, just because it's friday and ... and today feels full-to-bursting. i actually got out of bed before 10am this morning. i walked to Dunkin Donuts for breakfast, listened to Depeche Mode's "Black Celebration" while walking, and wrote a postcard to my friend Claudia while i was there. stopped at the post office on the way back.
i started reading Dorian Gray. i spent some time digitizing music. two hours sketching sexy ladies and thinking about the inevitable demise of my own libido. went biking.
and it's only five thirty. i can accomplish /so much/ in a day without having to go to work. work is like the very opposite of accomplishing anything. you could probably get more important things done with your head up your ass for 8 hours a day that you could in Cubicle Hell.
i thought i'd made up "cubicle hell," and then i found out that the Dilbert guy uses it. now i don't know if it got into my head through mass subliminal messaging from the media. oo, paranoia.
sometimes i wish i was a bachelor. there's nothing glamorous about it, but nobody bitches at you for wanting playing cards with naked chicks on them.
EDIT/UPDATE
i feel used. abused. cheap and ashamed. and trapped. i should be happy- i got laid. but i feel sick. i feel sick. - and nobody knows and nobody cares.
jia:
i remember when i listened to black celebration..only...for three straight days, balling my little eyes out. tis the best depeche mode album ever. meow.