or; scapegoat for my inconsistency
"The Apparition" kicks butt. John Arch had some nasty nice pipes.
I'm tired of writing papers. I've already written twenty-three pages today for four different papers. One more to go.
Have you ever noticed that if you look at pictures of a young Jim Matheos he looks a lot like a young Steve Harris. Same style hair (well heck, they still both have that hair) but back in the day, they even stood the same way in the band fotos and everything. Weird.
Alberto Rionda, grand musician and mastermind of the band Avalanch, must be pathetically lonesome. Otherwise, he wouldn't feel so compelled to put scantily-clad women on the covers of all their CDs. I mean, you can see nip in the cover of "los poetas han muerto". Get a life. Too bad their music is so great that i have to own these albums anyway.
The more you read critiques of books, the more you hate critics and everything they do. Until, after five hundred pages of critique, you finally have an epiphany. Critiques kick ass. In some way or another.
My brains feel like brians.
Why does UPS take so blooming long to send a package? They should be strung up. They'll be the first against the wall when the revolution comes. (Catch that reference, kids.)
"¿Qué es la vida? Un frenesí.
¿Qué es la vida? Una ilusión,
una sombra, una ficción,
y el mayor bien es pequeño,
que toda la vida es sueño,
y los sueños sueños son."
Did they have crack back in the 1600s? And did Calderón get to smoking it one day and write this? Pothead crazy man. Too bad it makes sense and is true, and the play it's taken out of is as splendidly crafted as any play written in English. Shakespeare eat your friggin' heart out.
I need a haircut.
I need a drink. But I'm too tired to get out of the chair and go get one.
I think I'm becoming a ninja robot in disguise. Think transformers, but cooler and more ninja. That's me.
Why do we capitalize the names of months and days? I thought you were supposed to capitalize things that were important. It's Sunday every seven days. It's not special. No more capitalization. It's sunday, not Sunday. End of story.
Sometimes I think I'm going to wake up and be ten years in the past. Thirteen again. I'd rather pluck my eyeballs out with a nice straw and eat them in a fricasee with my thumbs.
I didn't ever figure out why the lion was roaring on Tuesday. I don't think I ever will.
Time for a break. Turning off computer. Walking away."