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apathy is harder than it looks
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25.4.04
If you love someone, shape her life into something beautiful.
23:59
24.4.04
I stopped wanting to sleep because I wanted to stop waking up.
02:39
23.4.04
This is my favorite time... It's too late for the love yet too early for hate.
03:48
never trust a person who uses similes
03:46
I rub my head trying to coax out ideas; my hair becomes messed up. I am laughed at on my way to classes. Other students push their friends into me. Where are my friends? The people in front of the library invade my thoughts with their constructive bullshit. I walk the long way. I lament over the university that attempts to impress while I have given up long ago. I pity the motivated. I hate the stupid. Send me your lies; I’ll give you my silence.
03:42
11.4.04
to put my feelings to words is to bestow them with meaning they don't have
meaning is as nonexistent as god
23:02
8.4.04
each time you apologize you weaken everything you say
03:04
5.4.04
That should make my traffic go up 200%.
16:23
Only dicks play games with AIDS. Always wear a condom.
16:19
3.4.04
A wave of relief rolled over him, towing along a feeling of disgust in its wake. He poured the minor-key music as if he were a mediocre writer who overflows his prose with smilies in an attempt to woo his readers with the skills he developed in third grade. It's funny. He also learned cursive in third grade and yet he doesn't use it at all now while smilies inundate his writing.
He fought himself for a while; believed he could change into something beautiful: the kind of hero that saves an entire town from a deadly flood. Not only did he fail in trying to stop the waters, but he failed to stay alive afterward. That part of himself that didn't drown with the flood, he now drowns in the resulting sorrows. Drowning isn't that bad of a way to die. At least you hallucinate before you go under. Maybe he is out there believing he really was heroic before taking his final gasp; a final spit in the face of fate.
05:10
1.4.04
I find it amusing that the same aspects of human nature which prevent a dictator from enslaving us also prevents us from reaching the highest imaginable levels of love. We are children of compromise. Imperfect, varied and always with conflict.
The smallest amount of friction applied to a pebble by the sand of the sea will craft it into a beautiful soft stone. The smallest amount of friction applied to the beautifly crafted statues of man will tear it into nothingness. Is our society, by having disagreement and conflict, crafting itself into better and higher forms, or is it crumbling where it stands?
I like to think it is doing both at the same time in a horrible dance of futility.
(historical-biographical context: a beautiful spring day while I wait for my favorite class to start)
18:36
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