Ah, there it is! The predictable conclusion. As much as I had seen it coming, the immediate effect was still a small tightening in my chest and burning in the palms of my hands and fingertips.

Man, what an unromantic ending to such a cool story.

Tyler and I just got back from seeing the Mountain Goats play at the Bottom of the Hill in San Francisco. The show was phenomenal, Peter Hughes was really super great and Mr. Wurster, who I didn’t know what to expect from, was amazing. They came out for three encores and someone threw a pair of panties on stage. We learned that panties are called hipsters in Sweden. John Darnielle was a little drunk! He messed up the guitar parts on So Desparate, I think ’cause he put down a couple beers on stage, but that made the show all the more amazing. To think they played This Year, and The Sign, and Best Ever Death Metal! I would say the day was good luck, but minor (read: t-shirt related) unsavory events happened afterward, so there must’ve been some evil eye working against me. Oh well! Great performance indeed.

And Caves and So Many Dynamos were awesome too. I don’t think the very first band gave their name, they were crap anyway. “This next song is called ‘The Blackness of My Heart.’” Man, if you’re going to name one of your songs something like that, and then announce it all nonchalant, it better be like the darkest song I’ve ever heard. Which, [Band X], it was not.

Tyler and I are going to be in San Francisco tomorrow and Sunday to see tMG in concert!  Exuberance!  The new album is so good, and it will be so awesome to see John again in concert. Tyler will spend the night at my house.  If anyone reading this is in town this weekend, give me a call.

That’s it, I think.  Goodnight!

look at me, I can change the header of my blog nobody reads at three in the morning instead of finishing this paper

it was originally going to be an in-focus picture of a cigarette, but now it is an out-of-focus picture of somewhere immediately above a cigarette

had I taken the picture specifically to use on this website, I would have aimed the camera higher. as it stands, the picture is frustratingly and stubbornly fastened to an invisible anchor, yearning to be pointed upwards, somewhere just out of frame

at least, in my opinion it is

I figure that’s a fitting metaphor for something, here

I’ve realize that at the moment, I’m isolated.  No one is in love with me, & I am equally in love with everyone ["even the parts people I'd meant to leave out"].  I feel like I’m coming into my own as far as my collegiate existence is concerned, but I’m afraid I’m not giving it my best.  If I fail a class, I accept it in stride, but it’s easier to tell that to myself than it is to other people. I’ve realized that I’ve been deluding myself for a while now about what I’d like to do with my life–nothing too serious, but it means I’m probably going to start taking classes different than what I’d been telling everyone for the past four years. I’ve realized I’m eighteen now and I’ve become my own person.  I’m still roughing out the details [the strong details stricken with film grain and editor's sweat that one is usually fairly settled on [but then again maybe not]], but the fact that I know who I am is equal parts shocking and reassuring.  I’ve realized that my life would’ve been a whole lot different if I am who I am today, a year or two ago.  This is embarrassing, but no one is reading it, so it’s cool.  And if you are, it’s not like I would’ve told you the story face-to-face any different.  I mean that moreso if you’re one of the people I’m writing about.

I spent today taking pictures and grooving out to Franklin Bruno and John Darnielle.  I can’t say it was a day wasted, but now I have to pay for my actions!

Beautiful day today! My chest is as light as a feather! I want to fall into the wind and be a bird. I’d like to see campus from above the trees! Something about the weather today reminds me of Summer-I can’t wait to be with old friends again. There’s an emerald green sun and a strong purple diamond. Essays for arms and ten tons of bricks for your new city. Strike the earth! Drink water and plum juice. Farm grass, make a bed and sleep with your wife, and love your children. Walk on the sun and never stop!

So long, Marianne!

Swedish isn’t dead! Why does it’s lead over Finnish with only +3 million speakers give it such a global advantage? Is it Sweden’s economy? Finnish sounds like glinting water glimmer glass from gentle mermaid mouths! Svenska is a bunch of rocks thrown around by goblins in the throat of a myrmadon.

Late for class!

I feel like your steel guitar strings; cleaning the estate.

I can’t begin to tell you how exhausting life is, sometimes.  And it seemed so easy…!

I’d like a new identity, somewhere I can’t speak the language.  I’d like many, in fact.