It can. And that is terrible.
One minute of silence please.
I don’t really get the minute of silences. Nor do I get the whole candlelight vigil shit. It is quite plateu-ist I think. I mean people up in the mountains just cant do it. Too windy. Also people in Chicago.
I wonder whether everything we do and say is recorded somewhere. Somewhere. Like a giant camcorder is just reeling it all in and storing it one this mega-massive hard drive somewhere.
Perhaps it is being cataloged on the basis of names or age or skin or just this random collection of people doing and saying the most unconnected of things.
There is this one scene in American Beauty where that weird chap makes a movie of a plastic bag floating around. I aint saying that I got it but I kinda liked the idea.
So there is a rumour running around town that all our ancestors were actually made from paper. True story. We have descended from the trees and I do mean quite literally. I would not mind that too much but for the fact that we use paper a lot.
Talk about drawing shit all over your ancestors.
It is getting more and more difficult to re-wire my brain and make it more open to new experiences and new fuck ups. For some reason, I am actually starting to avoid fuck ups and if there is one thing that scares the bejesus out of me, that is it. I need to crash and die and bleed and cry and wipe the snot from my face cause goddamit man that is the only way I know how to live.
Going to try and catch a movie now. Its called Saving Face. Hopefully, just mega-hopefully, there will be a couple of empty seats.
Of course the fuckers at NCPA can be super snotty and just cause that Kiran Rao chick is coming along, I think there might be all these wanna be chaps hanging around being all indie-film maker and “I lovvvvd D(hobhi)G(hat) ya!” and all oooo and shit.
I laugh. Haha.
I cry. Hoo booo (ya my crying is dyslexic)
I sneeze. alksjdlakjdslkajds
I try. Hmppppppppp
I sleep. Gzzzzzzz