something isn't sitting well. [and i am not referring to the subway i had for dinner.] i feel like a bad metaphor. i feel like metal that has been rapidly heated and thrown in freezing water, warped and cracked and with pieces missing. i guess that should be representative of a much more horrible state, i only mean i don't feel myself. but i don't to such an extent, that is all i could come up with. i'm not even sure if it is a good or bad thing, or either. i keep telling myself that it is simply relief from being done with more than three consecutive weeks of critiques, and french presentations, and tests, and essays, and tests, and quizzes, and reading, and impromptu french, and foreign policy alternative papers, and outlines, and not too much sleep. and i keep telling myself that it is nine days off. almost ten, and it starts at five minutes after ten, tomorrow morning. less than seven hours now. i keep telling myself it is the film i just saw. that it is the cold, dry wind after four days of hot, constant rain. that it must be something, everything.

i am having trouble believing a word i am telling myself.

i often times fear the worst. sometimes worse than that. i'm not sure if this is fear, or if so if it is fear of the worst or fear of fearing. fear of nothing maybe. fear of not knowing. not fear at all, something different. but what?

i need answers. and no one has them for me so i won't bother asking.

and i can't trust signs because fortune cookies have lied to me too many times. accurate in every detail but the outcome.

and i want to spend the rest of my life around nice, old people. and hear their stories. i've never walked to school in eight feet of snow or piped in sunshine or worked thirty-two hours a day, so i'd like to hear from someone who has.

but not mean, old people. one either shook his fist at me or flipped me off, today in traffic. i couldn't tell which, but figure that the former is the old-man equivalent of the latter anyway.

some people think andy warhol was a genius. i think he was a prick. i'm going to say here that i don't know where that came from.., but i do. i've been to his museum though. the one in pittsburgh at least.

i agree that money probably is nothing. i wish i believed it at this point.

i feel like i should be done, like i should have at least weeks ago. and i don't mean this, or school, or..


"bite me
drug me
put me to bed.." -p.


< << < : : >> > >
number 9.. .   .? andy andy andy, get your adverbs here

but i still can't focus on anything..