there's just something about the stars tonight
that i can't put my finger on
i'll chase and chase it while it flits away
as soon as i touch it, it's gone

there's just something about the stars tonight
that's making me feel awful sad
it's rhyme without reason, it blooms out of season
it's enough to make someone go mad

there's just something about the stars tonight
that's making the sky seem so blue
there's just something about the stars tonight
and it somehow reminds me of you.

i wanna sing one for the cars that are right now headed silent towards the highway, abd it's dark, and there is nobody driving, and something has got to give.

so yesterday i went to my first ever proper gig. it was the Mountain Goats playing at Bottom of the Hill in San Francisco, and it was fucking awesome. it wasn't a really big venue, and all the people there were fans and it just had this sense of... camaraderie. there's just something about being smushed into a small space with a hundred other people, all in varying states of intoxication, and all singing the lyrics to the same song. i don't know what it is, but i definitely like it.

and right now, it's 2:06 in the morning and in the small amount of light coming from my screen, i can still see the fading X's of sobriety on the backs of my hands. and nobody else in the house is awake. and i can hear the cars speeding towards the never-ending Somewhere on the highway. the crickets are chirping, but never as happily as they once did. the moon is waning, the clocks tick on, and it is a very, very big universe we live in.

the night is warm in California.

xoxo

for those who think this is going to be entertaining, fuck off.

so more and more often lately, i've been avoiding writing about things that happen in my life because i'm afraid that you won't want to hear about my sad, depressing emo rambles. i have also come to the conclusion that this is faintly ridiculous. if you don't want to read my sad, depressing emo rambles, then fuck off. seriously. you are completely delusional if you think this blog is about anything other than me. i write what i want to write, you can read if you want to read. if you don't, then don't because i could honestly not give a flying fuck on a stick. this isn't about you. none of this is about you. this blog is a completely selfish, whiny, bitchy, depressing, piece of shit. you are here purely of your own free will. this is the textual equivalent of you sitting in while i ramble enthusiastically at a wall. you can leave at anytime, ridiculing or insulting me will do nothing, and you can do whatever the fuck you want because you know what? i am going to ramble at my fucking wall and nothing you can do will stop me. you want to be entertained? fuck off. you think i'm awful for not entertaining you? fuck off and die. i am a selfish fucking bitch, go find your own goddam wall. you need it.

diddly bobbity diddly doo
i fucked your dad in the ass 'till 2

boppity poppity diddly dee
eat shit.

love,
Frank.

yeah i'm double-blogging it.

so i did some research (read: freaked out and texted my therapist) and apparently not being able to focus is a symptom of depression.

cuz i don't have enough of those already. woo! everything feels like shit! i can't sleep! i want to die! and i can't even do my homework!

woo fucking hoo.

anywho, my psycho therapist thinks i'm hallucinating. more specifically, she thinks i'm hallucinating due to combined lack of sleep and high anxiety.

i'm not hallucinating.

i know that other people can't normally see what i see or hear what i hear, but i'm not hallucinating. nobody sees the world through the same pair of eyes, everything is different. some see more some see less some see things other people can't some people refuse to see anything beyond their noses. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not fucking crazy.

today i was talking about anger and rage and somebody spoke up and said

what are you even raging against?

but that's not the point. sometimes you don't need anything to rage against, you just need to rage. you need to riot, you need to make a scene, and you need to find your passion(s). and you need to scream something, even if it's just "i have something to say."
yell
scream
swear
punch shit
rage.
and never say it's not your problem. because the future is always going to be there and somebody you love is gonna be right there with it.

so fucking rage while you're still angry.

i feel... weird. it's like my head is full of static. everything's jumping from one thing to the next and i just can't focus. i'm tired and i'm jittery and i keep getting distracted. everything is everywhere and i feel both panicky and deathly calm. i just don't know.

i don't know i don't know i don't know and it's really freaking me out.

i know i made a post really recently, but i'm making another one. it's 9:45 pm and i went to bed an hour ago out of pure boredom. i've got my window open because it's been raining and i can't stand not hearing the rain when it's happening. it smells like... i don't even know what. rain and dirt and that smell that asphalt gives off when it's wet and green growing things. it's dark outside. but anyway, it's one of those nights that keeps reminding me of things out of the blue. books i've read and poetry and the way the smell of cigarette smoke lingers in your nostrils and clings to clothing. i know i shouldn't romanticize cigarettes so much, but i like the way they smell, okay? and it's not like i can actually smoke them anyway. my shitty fucking lungs would pitch a fit. and i wish somebody was here. not just over the internet or on the phone, but a person i can look at and talk with and tell all the things that pop into my head that make no sense. i just want a friend.

daffodils, Lyn-Z, the void, reversal of fortune

sooooooooo...

hi. not dead. sick, tired, not dead.

went to England! and Scotland!

here is what i learned:

• i have a really really bad sense of direction
• traveling is a great lesson in how not to give a shit what others think of you
• always pack extra meds
• make sure to get a roommate whom you don't loathe.
• Doc Martins are excellent shoes for traveling (provided you have sufficient sock coverage)
• be prepared for 80% of the people you meet to hate you on sight
• the British love daffodils.

the daffodil thing is really amazing, though. seriously, they just grow everywhere. in parks, by statue, at the side of the road, these bright yellow splotches of color, stark against the somewhat muted background caused by years of stormy weather and smog.

on a different note, i want to be Lyn-Z Way when i grow up. (holyfuckshe'ssofuckingcoollikehawdoesanybodylikeheractuallyexistgaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh)

on a different different note, i am really, really sick. again. fuck. i feel like my brownie is about to mutiny. stay down, you delicious bastard.

it's recently occurred to me that there has never been anybody i could completely share with. well, except here, but i can only say as much as i do here because i can pretend nobody's listening. it sounds bad, i know, but this doesn't feel like talking to anyone. this is just a shout into the void, 1's and 0's that get hurled into the ever-expanding network of people all trying to shout their bit the loudest. someone could hear me, but most people look right past. it's like screaming off a rooftop. your average passerby is just too used to the noise to notice one little addition.

oh fuck.

the brownie mutinied.

not nearly as good the second time around.

fuck this.

i'm going to bed.