love tears you a new one

ian curtis, again

i just spent the last hour of supposed 'portfolio-making-time' scouring the internet for more pictures of ian curtis. whenever i find a new one to download i end up staring at it in silence for a good five minutes.

is it because of his music? is it because of his lyrics? or is it just the fact that he totally checked-out early, never having his beautiful display marred by a more current picture of him (you know how it goes-- the doughnut train robert smith & morrisey ride on these days?)

i should be asleep.

kona cove & bagcock lovely

i ended up hanging out with prized BRO friends Mike and Ritchie at the LA County Fair today, which calls to mind the effeminate question: what could a day at the fair with two BROs possibly consist of?

beer, horse racing, more beer, and-- wait for it-- a botanical garden?

trying to learn the finer points of betting on a horse while drunk was easier than i thought it would be; as long as you manage to give the cashier money and say either "win" or "show" you're in the clear. refraining from wanting to announce aloud your horses' overtly suggestive name (OMGOMG bagcock LOVELY?) and just simply, pointing to their respective number, further secures your bet/public drunken stupor. i think i had won forty cents, but really, i just did it for the experience. :
after a few guiness, dos equis, and a coors (too drunk at this point to preference) Ritchie persuades us into a botanical garden show which was actually, quite interesting to walk around and look at.

so lesson learned today: beer is ok when people buy it for you, horse racing is fun but not in any way profitable, and bro guys are really just big manly queers-- when given lots of beer and flowering plant exhibits.

the science of lazy

i've been sleeping in a shifty, home-made cot beside my grandpa's hospital bed for almost a year now. i get up during random times in the early morning to give him his nebulizer, suction phlegm from his throat, and noisly talk smack about my mom.

our combined reluctance to wake up early results in the both of us squriming around in our respective cribs; talking about things we would like to eat for breakfast while my grandma sits at the kitchen nook waiting for someone to make her a cup of coffee.

....

last night david and i raided my mom's pantry in order to stock our locker at school. "it's our only home outside of home" he said. though thoughtful and cute, i totally thought our home was victor's house becase we are always there passing out, watching tv, and eating mrs. castellanos's food. i guess now we have a summer timeshare.

....

watching my grandpa try to put his oxygen back in his nose while his eyes are closed, mumbling "scratchy, scratchy things" is in all honesty, one of the main reasons as to why i prefer taking care of him at night. old people to me are like big wrinkly babies that still manage to say the cutest things. negative associations with the elderly however, are mostly due to the fact that they're not plugged up with enough meds. take note!



addendum: my best x 10⁹⁸⁵ friend is in korea and i miss her terribly.

other names for gash

addendum to drinky-wine fest of last week:

while looking at victors porn i described one girls snatch looking like that of, "yoshinoya."

drill to the eyes

maybe I should focus on other things-- like portfolios, as opposed to wanting to rob a bank, go bulimic, and backslap the face of every doe-eyed vintage slut i see online. MAYBE.

i miss my girlfriends. i miss calling someone to have a brownie with and talking INSANE amounts of smack. it was my therapy. with bianca in another country, and kirin-- kinda in another country (L.A. is far in both gas and scene for me) my options have narrowed down to david, the occasional jo, and janine. currently david is in tucson, jo is M.I.A. (as always) and janine is married.

so, i'm fucked.

portfolio making = yes
envious glares at 120 lb. fashionistas = y... no.

rap, as enjoyed by an eight year old.

the other night while cleaning up at one of my mom's religious parties (aka JESUS THROW DOWN) a young girl by the name of danielle kept asking david and i random questions about school, our favorite colors, and what foods we liked. i told her that my favorite color is green, i'll eat anything as long as i won't vomit it back up, and that i'm in grade 18 (12th grade + 6 years in godforsaken community college.)

i love kids, especially those curious-type kids that i do not, in any way, have to be held accountable for. they hunger for information and likewise i'll give it to them-- filling their voided heads with my half-assed knowledge and experience. in danielles case, i told her to keep up with her fondness for drawing and writing, and that nobody needs to learn math anymore because computers and calculators are here to stay and help us FOREVER. she agreed wholeheartedly. upon asking her if she had any other siblings she hesitantly replied, "I have an older sister, but she's in jail." I immediately told her that that was nothing to be ashamed about, "only if you don't visit her often" and that, "your sister didn't mean to do what ever it is she did. she was mostly likely screwed over by the friends she was trying to help out (i.e. lil' kim doing time over trying to cover up for her back-stabbing hater crew. WORD.)"

we then talked about our mutual love for rap and our hatered for paris hilton, among other things. if only i could encounter more kids like this, then the elementary public school system wouldn't seem too much like the septic tank it's inherently become.

but i can't really say much for myself-- i'm still in the 18th grade.