after reading Immortality by Milan Kundera, i have decided to relinquish all forms of hate i have. but it's tough, especially if it isn't the simple despising "what a disgusting ass!" that i'm used to. it's power, it's indignation, it's politics. i wish heather were around and not a few hundred kilometres away.

"He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man." movie quote #, i don't know.

try singing in French.

nothing much to say, just that it's cold and i should be in bed reading. it's times like this that make me love, i'm tired of taking buses in the desert and playing chess without knights. you won't know who you are even if you read this and maybe you'd mind, but yours are the sweetest eyes i've ever seen.

school was reasonable. was hugged by numerous people; after that i chilled with sheryl and pete. we had japanese food, then discovered this punk shop that had communist shirts. i'm also kind of rediscovering the joys of glam rock, it matches the rainy weather for some peculiar reason.

dancing can be a seriously exciting affair. i'm not talking about the cocktail party or hardcore kind, yo. i want to read a book, any book.

this is an interesting site to check out.

show was fair. biggest attraction was lead guitarist-with-red-guitar, lots of hip-moving and look of absolute ecstasy on face. the style, baby. i went with trin and we visited supposedly haunted places and ended up having to climb over a gate. am feeling relatively shitty; when she left i sat at the bus-stop for a dead long time and watched the cars zooming cruelly and the leaves dying. oh, well, there's tomorrow.

i and heather were talking about how we're going to be alone this valentine's day. it's quite funny what you admit when you're tired and need a drink. i'm listening to suede, beautiful loser.

i've had a mildly cool day. in the canteen, i got to eat two fish fillets, a rare event. they were selling sausages but i've decided i can't eat those anymore because they remind me of the liver biology experiment.

tomorrow is the new year celebration, and i'm going to hang out with sheryl in relatively un-obscure places. will elaborate about beautiful things later; for now, i have a rock concert to attend.

my feet are corroded. ow. ow. i've decided i can never partake in social blogging.

i was actually planning to say, i saw a star on my way to school in the early morning. stars have strangely comforting presences, they remind me the universe is sticking together properly and i think they wink and watch me.

today was fairly dull until English, which involved conversations on communism, show trials, and being sent into exile.

after that, heather went literally crazy over a beautiful person. she has not much dignity when it comes to being in love.

this is dreadfully unromantic and actually downright miserable, but we are having financial problems again. i don't like the way money turns everything bleak. i feel like the Wall Street Crash.

today there was a funny smell of loneliness. it lingers onto clothes and hair. i think i will go read Steppenwolf once more.

the highlights were an unplanned fire drill, and a dead bird lying in the midst of the school field. ursula gave me a strawberry sweet.

dreamt i was playing curt wild in a stage version of velvet goldmine. i think i was singing tv eye into my pillow and i have concluded it is very fun to be blonde.

afterwards, when i was woken up by heather, i discovered i had a voice echo like those twelve-string guitars. it's quite an enriching experience, you say something and hear it being repeated huskily down in your throat. perhaps my voicebox has had a mild case of schizophrenia.

is it just me, or should avril lavigne have been assassinated whilst she was strolling in chinatown?

guides was very fun today, as it always is when it starts at 8:30. but why is hitler in my handbook?

the ugly:
cagelike air-conditioned offices full of people not knowing about the knives in their backs
cruelty
high-tech khaki-coloured war
factories with black smoke coming out of them

the beautiful:
monet and van gogh
hearts that aren't black and bleeding, as advertised
sincere books
certain girls (you are lovely!)

c'est maintenant decide, i've nothing better. i found out pete also has dreams of travelling; this means i am not alone in my bohemian endeavours.

skinheads are funny, and i like you cool.

in terms of worldly success i am a definite failure. in terms of wordly success i'm not too sure. i have almost completed a story that is a take on the man who sold the world, yeah, that song by david bowie. personally, i prefer the nirvana version.

it's been a bloody stupid day, a truck got in my way. no, really. i've just drunk loads of coffee, so now my veins are kind of jangling. irrelevant question: what would it be like to have a funfair inside of you? my heart is a carousel.

i just splashed water on my face, and i feel sober and painful. after i took a bath just now i watched the droplets fall down my shoulders, like my body was crying maybe.

ridiculous, but i miss moving, i miss being in motion. and when i'm running circles around time i start wishing i was lying in bed with afternoons and afternoons ahead of me. i'm so tired of my eyes (which are tired of me), generally i need coffee.

the dark colours are so much better.

i forgot to mention cynthia's new haircut. she looks like a very feminine boy, like one of those from a William S. Burroughs story.

if only it would rain when i was on the bus, and not now. if only it would snow (?).

i think i saw beauty today. it was pale with a pretty smile, wore a bolero, and waved to me as it ran past. it was also much younger than i am.

life has been shoving me around a bit but i gave it a good beating with my finished commonwealth essay, otherwise known as panic at eleven pm. i haven't been doing anything much, just finishing up piano work and listening to good music and eating chocolate. today's point: being in love with someone versus being in love with love.

personally, i prefer the latter.

it is almost six pm, and i'm quite sure x is watching golf again.

monday blues are here again. i should take up the saxophone, always wear black, and get three more earrings. cool.

come to think of it, i would really like to wander again. somehow, the idea of rushing through the glass airport and sitting on a plane doesn't suit me. i want to take trains, i want to take old buses, i want to talk to everyone i see and hang out behind dark alleys. it's pleasantly bleak here, as usual, and everything is a neutral shade of grey except the road (shit-coloured). i'm proud to say my Commonwealth essay is in progress, and when i finish it i may publish it on this endless network. talking about writing, i wrote three short poems yesterday and they are suffocating here.

cut to a short note on des's Orsino-esque lifestyle. once again, i am in love and in anguish. check out the lyrics to Of Montreal's Tim I Wish You Were Born A Girl and you'll see why (i'm enjoying this!).

i woke up to blue and purple and let me tell you, i could have gone on being unconscious for the next six hours. maybe. even now, the bed is looking tempting.

according to my mum, vegas is the sin city. if only it weren't so bloody far away.

with sebastian i crash my car in the rain.

i find planes mildly disturbing. how i can bring myself to sit on a chunk of roaring metal that hovers in the air is beyond me. my feet have been a couple of centimetres from an oxygen-less sky. maybe flying a plane is a different story. still, technology is never naive enough.

guides today was colouring; the girl i think about sometimes is a star.

i've found a phrase for this - quies quietis.

i love beautiful people.

there's a boy playing soccer outside, and i have just realised how clear the air is. how clear my eyes are. occasionally i want to leave behind lots of things, to go on some old bus to an unknown place where i can start all over again; but peace is wonderful, isn't it? when you can lie back on white linen without worrying about bombs decapitating or dismembering you and there isn't insecticide making you asphyxiate.

the clothes are softly drying like a maternal picture and it's getting dark. i kind of wish i was studying physics so i could major in astronomy.

gary oldman as sirius black is wrong, wrong, wrong. mumblechristianbalemumble. they are parallels; if my perception of sirius black is ruined, remus lupin is as good as dead.

in the laboratory there are at least thirty jars which are full of formaldehyde. and in those jars there are floating body parts. a particularly amusing one is labelled BRAINS. there's even a one-month-old foetus. cheerful, isn't it? i don't know where those dead babies come from; maybe there's a giant garbage disposal, a spiritual garbage disposal which empties itself into the world. all the time now you leave me to lick at my wounds, perhaps this is what i get for breaking my promise to Lupercus.

at least kelly calls me a perv and nina loves me.

self-reminder: have a date with cynthia tomorrow.

farting around in bed, i have discovered it is rather easy to come up with theories about what happens after death. there are a million possibilities! i got off the bus and it rained on me, in little slow ice-cream drips at first, then like mild hail. in school i had a bad and good time; muddling over the most ridiculous english worksheet ever and being the fastest in chemistry.

why are they at their most beautiful when they're walking away? i think i nicked this off velvet goldmine.

potato soup is one of my favourite things.

you know, life is in the clouds. i wake up blinking into light and pulling the blue bedcovers away and i go to school, sit through lessons and laugh with/at cassandra. rest my elbows on the lunch table i don't fit into anymore, feel like a benign tumour waiting to be discovered. i draw hitler and comment on stalin's sexiness with the cool people (yvette, ursula, geraldine), run after the only one i can wholly trust (sheryl), get hit on my cheek by an enemy. i don't know what to say. what if i could bind and marry myself to books and cast the rest away? i'd do fine, guess i'm doing fine.

the flaming lips have some very catchy tunes.

current energy level: Russian peasant. blast the education system.

i want to get completely high and turn on R.E.M.; whatever it is, it's mind-blowing in a swirly Monet sort of way.

commonwealth essay is giving me hell. what can i form out of "We all laughed"?

this shall be an all-school entry. saturday's finally here, and it took a bloody long time, too. i have guides in the morning, but there's no footdrill and we'll be eating. i shall readily force my patrol members to eat the twenty-four fishballs and i am looking forward to scrutinizing the wee ones. my class is extremely cool and friendly, as compared to last year's. during p.e. i ran a couple of long rounds and nearly fainted from exhaustion; at home i collapsed. stare at me now and i'll give you a goldfish look.

my gum's running out.

bless the spirit of Wilde, it's Friday tomorrow. this could just as well be the longest week in history. the queues in the canteen are unbearable and i need coffee, loads of coffee.

i wasn't alone on the bus just now. i sat with someone and we spoke of peripheral things, with the picture getting clearer and more broken each second. tell me, what is the point of a life when all you are concerned about is the use of your handphone and underage copulation? i think you know who i'm talking about. a girl's name passed around, love bites; it all makes me repulsed and perhaps sadder. if not for those beautiful songs i would have died a long, long time ago.

something bit my finger. it stings a bit like guilt.

"because it's my birthday, my love, and i wants it."

wait till i find the correct tone.

this is a confession. i know my father is getting old and if i were to lose him suddenly i would feel terribly guilty for not being nice enough to him. but he really makes me mad sometimes. i mean, seriously. i don't know why most people have either problems with both parents, or none; while it's only my dad who makes me miserable.

fuck it, i don't want to be unfair to him because he drives me home from school when he can and buys me food because he cares. i was hoping my energy would last a good two months, but it's merely the second day of lessons and i am already kind of dead. still, it looks fresh from the distance, and subjects at this level are much cooler.

i call for the abolishment of rules! remind me to purchase The Symposium by Plato.

yesterday i tinkered with guitars. i have decided that although electric ones are the sexiest, they make me wish for five hundred spare cash (like the black and white left-handed one at yamaha) and that i'm most comfortable with the good old acoustic. my uncle is rigging up an ancient one for me. i think i shall call him Sebastian. the guitar, i mean; not my uncle. as i implied in my earlier post, the old is much better than the new and shiny.

school is remarkably interesting. i think i'll go dream a bit.

of montreal are very, very sweet.

i have just been forced to throw away the paper i have been hoarding. personally i'd be very happy if i could live in a house where things could lie peacefully in their place for years. the couch has also been thrown away. am i reduced to becoming uncomfortable in my own home? this is devastating.

i had a dream about a girl with white eyes. sheryl (the mushroom one) and i were trudging through dark streets looking frantically for her. there were flickering lamps; sounds very t.s. eliot, doesn't it?

today i went out with candice and ky. i was hoping not to run into anyone from school, but we only saw a philistine whom i gave the third finger to. we also took pictures but i don't have a scanner to release my narcissistic urges with.

for some reason everyone in town who passes me is either using their handphone, or has a miserable expression on their face.

i feel funny inside. the somewhere between my ribs is tender and dissolving. you'd be just the same if you listened to Ease Your Feet In The Sea and you wished you had someone to love even though you know you'd screw it up because you'd be too eager and frightened and awkward and sad at the wrong times and you could never understand much about these things anyway.

i am now convinced that elijah wood and dominic monaghan are very much in love.

i took the bus home and looked out of the grimy windows but couldn't find anything of interest. as i walked i kicked the dead leaves for a distance till they were blown from my shoes. when the weather is lousy and you are tired you just want to slink away, retreat somewhere friendlier. turns out the book we're doing for Literature is titled I'm King Of My Castle and has a plot which is dead dark. it's about two boys who obsessively hate each other, and where i am we have minds kinky enough to read into that. at least i see no sign of prejudice.

i wrote a poem last night, but it doesn't mean my aching head is over.

all in all, a reasonable day. now that school's in again, i feel ridiculously young but old. have also rediscovered the joy of messy hugs and badly drawn boy. sooner or later life will be back to normal and i hope normal is vitamin c good and chewable. nothing new, except that the balcony is flooded and if i jumped in it there would be a great splash. for some reason, i'm always making weather reports.

does anyone know where to purchase a rubber duck? you see them in movies but never in real life. well, not here anyway.

"The only reason I get up in the morning is to see if my luck's changed. And it never bloody has."