Sitting here listening to Modest Mouse's latest album, Good News for people who love Bad News, makes me feel happy. My grandmother opening my door every five minutes asking me if I'm hungry is starting to make me feel unhappy. That and my mom calling me three times to tell me the same thing. I don't want to see you people so much, even if deep down I do love you.

I just got home from a mediocre start of what should be a great night. I was driving to pick up Dasha (a Russian girl who loves dirty jokes and likes Modest Mouse) and Amber (a girl in my drama class who has a very good taste in music) to go see "Goodbye Lenin" at the Cinearts Theatre in Pleasant Hill when I hear some sirens over Float On Float On. My heart sank when I saw the flashing blue and red lights in the rear view mirror, but my eyes remained upbeat. The officer was nice and asked if I had a ticket before, and if I've ever been to traffic school. I told him I went to traffic school a couple months ago for a speeding ticket. "Speeding? Hahaha!" He was a goddamn friendly guy. So after a little bit of shooting the bull, he tells me that if I don't run the stop sign again, he'll act like I just forgot to put on my seatbelt so I could be on my way. I told Dasha the story, except I used a dirty joke to substitute the whole "seatbelt" spiel. Amber's dad saw me through the window and got angry, so now we have to sneak her out of her house and watch the movie at 10.

I hung out with Dasha for the first time yesterday in Berkeley, which was nice. We went clothes shopping with her and a couple of her friends, which kind of got boring because girls take a long time and I lose interest. It was pretty funny when I was offering their leftover pizza to the elite indie teenagers walking in Urban Outfitters though. The lesbian with the short blonde hair who asked if I was fucking around at the register made me want to cry though. I found this great At the Drive In shirt which in turn made my eyes sparkle.

Dasha and I were making plans to get coffee when this black woman who was corpulent and sold hats stopped us and explained to us how she wasn't black. I was kind of smiling the whole time, but after ten minutes or so I kind of wanted to run away. So, after about another half an hour of lecturing about how racist America has become, I took Dasha's arm and made her run away with me. You could hear the lady yelling, "Oh look, they're running away!". I really wanted to buy a hat from her because she seemed nice, but then she started to feed us lines like she knew 465 languages and that she lived with Bob Marley.

I ended up watching "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" after I got home with my mother. It was a little too artsy with a few unneeded characters, and the lighting in the entire movie was horrible, but all in all I enjoyed it. Jim Carrey's acting was better than I thought it would be, compared to other movies of his. My tears were ending near the end, and right when I got in my car I called up Dasha and asked her to get some coffee with me, like I've known her for years but never spoke a word to her. What was going on?

I feel lovely and sad. I'm a six, Philip Dick. I'm a fucking six and you know it.

cya.

-george