four specious skies, bored on the forth of

sadly, it's all about the ice cream and popsicles these days. so, how's this fourth of july? i'm not taking sticker pictures or eating at mossburger or moping about a regrettable evening with someone i thought was a much better person or catching fireflies or watching fireworks like all normal, patriotic people do. like most times, like all times, i'll be slaving away well into the evening to get my homework done. you'd think that one times too many would be enough and make me realize i seriously gotta get my shit together, but i guess my brain doesn't deduce like that.

enjoying the day off otherwise.

At Your local Kubrick library.

way too into school. i'm surprised i've been going out on monday nights, spending money, and ending up in questionably apartments filled with guys. it's cool. i'm used to it--bars, hotel rooms, bathrooms, i've dealt with them all. at least my social life is considerably more exciting.

here's a rundown on my new academic life: all my classes are loathsome, with the subject exception of italian where we always end up laughing about morire. there's a grandpa, a hipster, and some lady..i really miss last quarter with mr. sweaty. anyways! there are so many things to do and people for me to see, time schedule nonconflicting pending, that leave me excited, eager for le weekend.

so, lately all i've been watching is good ol' simpsons episodes, seasons 1, 2, and 5. here are two shots of attractive, fictional womans that often get lost in all the dialogue and story and the fact that you were eating that sandwich instead of watching the screen:




i really like marge with her hair down.next time i hope to catch some other good'lookin' guest star characters.

a successful failure.

lemme take a moment and explain this quality of constant wistfulness. i'm recently realizing, amid my vivid analogies, how much of an enigma i am. or..the void of identity i associate with. perhaps it's just me being mopey. perhaps. it's not empty anymore, nowadays, like, it's just constantly pondering/asking/obsessing over "why?what of where to go and what to do.
i have no intention of being philosophical (have you been traumatized by logic under the guise of socrates? no?). I tend to be thinking what to do now, later, if i could conjure up a time machine and go back to me in the '90s. i'm in a state of wondering.
totally separate from other things going on/i instigated. it's mostly good ol' nostalgia from living in a house with a basement and a cherry tree in the backyard--somewhere i had ambition to be great, guys giving me their self-drawn self-portraits willingly, an idea of what was real.