"Put your arms around me baby," she said to me. I did, only to humor her. That and the fact she had nice teeth.

Last night was Junior Prom. I didn't go. I was thinking I shouldn't write this down because it seems like the type of thing I'd want to forget in a few years, but right now I'm in a good mood and I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks, so I'll talk about it. There was this girl named Corinna who I knew from a party in the summer that I asked to go to prom with me. She's very pretty with nice hazel eyes. The only thing is, she's a complete bitch. She really likes me though, so I figured I just might have a good time at prom if I went with her, since someone had already asked Trish (That's a story that's full of shit in itself, by the way).

Anyway Corinna and me were talking, and she said something that upset me about my friend Danielle. She called her "a no good whore that sucks cock when she's depressed". The way she said it though... it was awful. I got really mad at her because I knew Danielle did have sex when she was depressed and that already upset me, but the fact that she was poking fun at it just really got me mad. So I told Corinna to go fuck herself and I drove to San Francisco to a party. I ended up getting pretty wasted last night, and I remember making out with this girl named Cindy who had long legs and nice hair. I got home around 4am feeling depressed with the taste of alcohol in my mouth. That's pretty much the short version of the story for everyone who wants to know why the fuck I didn't go to prom. I'm going to feel awkward on Monday when people ask me about it.

There's this girl in my English class who is kind of chubby and has an onion-shaped head. I don't know her name, but I don't think it really matters. Anyway, she's always bragging about how she likes to drink and smoke marijuana as if it's something to be proud of. I wouldn't really care about something like this, but on Friday she was talking about how she has "sexual tension" and how she takes off the labels of water bottles to relieve her "stress". God. As if I wanted to know she had sex in the first place. Five weeks, that's how long she said it's been. God. Fuck. Well, I suppose if I were as wasted as last night, she would probably have looked as good as Cindy did.

My sister and I went to Borders, which is this Cafe that sells books and movies and things like that. It's more of a bookstore with a coffee shop, but I think it sounds nice when I'm going to a cafe with my sister - it makes me feel like a highbrow. Anyway, I ended up buying the Seven Year Itch and Our Man in Havana, and while I was in line this girl called my sister over and they talked for a little bit. After I paid for my movies and we started walking towards the car, I asked her who it was. She said it was a friend from her old school, and I said, "That's nice." Then I said she was cute, and my sister started laughing. "She's in eighth grade," she said. My heart sank. She really was cute though. God, I'm such a fucking pedophile, and I love it. I think the fact that she was still in Junior High only aroused me more. Ha-ha!

Anyway, I don't know what else to say except that I don't regret ditching Corinna at all. The only thing I feel bad about is that my mom probably wants me to have some pictures and stuff like that. I won't disappoint her for Senior Ball though, I promise. She's too loving for me to screw that up. My dad just congratulated me on getting some action last night, as if he assumed I was doing a few girls at once. It was nice to be encouraged like that, to be honest.

cya.

-george

Riding in the laughter, hold her hair and die. Her teeth have some sort of shine, while all you do is cry.

A long time ago I was drinking a glass of water and I noticed it was scratching the back of my throat. I immediately thought to grab another glass, except that would have been silly. I've noticed that when I don't write in my journal, life seems to become more boring. I don't notice the little things, like the sunflower growing through a crack in the road, proving that life manages to find a way. Maybe it was horrible smoking habit. The scratch in the back of my throat I mean.

A long time ago I went to Berkeley to purchase some music. I was never a fan of Hippies, but Telegraph always interested me. Sometimes I'll give money to the local girl on the street to buy a beer, and in turn, she'll buy me cigarettes. I'd always like to offer her one; it's just that she's always afraid she'll be charged with a felony. I'm sure jail would be better than the streets, since they provide food and all, but then again, I'm pretty sure it isn't. Anyway, there was this girl standing outside the record store looking very pretty and giving me the old eye. I wish I had spoken to her because I was honestly very attracted to her. She seems like the type of girl that I'll call every time I light a cigarette and feel lonely. I really don't have anyone like that to be honest with you.

A few hours later, and here I am. I've tried writing something meaningful, but I never really could. Not with those apathetic drugs. This girl Laura asked me to quit smoking, because it seemed like I've become less and less lively. So I did. I went outside and had my last Marlboro. I threw away all my cigarettes, and I felt some kind of closure. I'm listening to Interpol, and it seems to make me realize who I am. I'm not an evened out person. I never have been. Sure, cigarettes helped me not feel depressed, but they made me feel unhappy. It was strange because I could hear my dad coughing while I was smoking and feeling infinite. Tomorrow is going to be a better day.

I'm starting to see my future, and you know what? It looks awesome. I saw myself taking wonderful photos, holding her hand across the Golden Gate Bridge, and knowing everything was going to be fine. I saw myself singing and playing music that I love. I saw myself happy again. And you know, I'm starting to seriously not give a fuck about being unhappy, because that is what people are. We are unhappy, and we are happy. This girl named Heidi said I would make a great teacher. I've got to start reading the books Mister Rice gives to me. I think wet hair is prettier than ugly uncombed hair. I think I'm ready for a hair cut.

I donated blood today which was nice. I wanted to circle yes when the survey asked me if I had sex for money within the past 12 months. As if it were okay if it were before then. STD's should be introduced to the blood bank. Pandemonium is what we'd have. The lady who helped me out kept on calling me honey, and kept asking if I felt all right. I started laughing hysterically in my head when I felt light headed. Everything became blurry because the blood wasn't going to my head. She said my lips looked purple, and smiled when she said I was starting to look normal again, as if she knew me for a long time.

I had this dream a few nights or weeks ago where my mother and I were in Hawaii for some reason. And my car was there too. Anyway, my mom had apparently sent my car to go get groceries using cruise control. And I got really pissed off at her because I told her that that wasn't how cruise control worked. So we ended up driving around Hawaii looking for my poor car, and we eventually found it in an auto yard, looking depressed and lonely. It made me want to learn how to ride the unicycle, like the demoiselle who used to smile at me while holding her balance stick.

I don't really know what else to say, except that I'm back.

cya.

-george

I just noticed that I hate American Idol with a passion.

I haven't played my guitar in a while. I was looking at her, huddled in her case, and I could hear her crying for me to play her. I'm a little rusty, but I think with a few more weeks of practice I'll be where I left off. My fingers aren't as strong as the used to be.

The reason I'm telling you all of this is because I'm planning on becoming a rock star.

I got an A- on this. I'm trying to write an essay right now on Ithaca, but looking at this essay depresses me, because I could really say something about it. I can say nothing about Ithaca. My sentences are becoming choppier and choppier. How did I write so smoothly? I don't remember.

Alfred Green Speech
In 1861, African Americans were not yet permitted to join the Union Army. However, author Alfred M Green felt the need for African Americans to strive to be admitted to the ranks and prepare to enlist in the Union Army in his powerful and influential speech. Green both persuades and motivates his fellow man through the use of fortifying allusions, heartening tone, and promising diction. Using “us” instead of “you”, Green makes a deeper connection to his fellow man, lifting their relationship to a higher level, which allows a higher affect on the audience. However, Green’s most persuasive reasoning comes from his idea that joining the Union army is a moral issue rather than a practical one. Rather than persuading other African Americans with concrete, tangible rewards, he makes the reason for joining the army not only a moral, but also, a spiritual one.
Green starts his speech by referring to the bravery and true patriotism of a “race in whose hearts burns the love of country, of freedom, and of civil and religious toleration”. In this single sentence, Green is able to unite both whites and blacks into one race - American. This immediately raised the African Americans to the social class of the whites, making them richer; making them part of the higher moral issue, as if equal to whites - a balance which lasts throughout most of the entire speech.
However after starting off with a strong, positive tone, Green goes back to the reality at hand. In 1861, African Americans were not as socially acceptable as they are today. Green begins listing problems that were issues in that time, such as the fugitive-slave laws, which enforced slavery even when dealt with in the North, and the Dred Scott decision which depressed African Americans across the nation. He mentions these problems not to depress his fellow man, but rather, motivate them by saying that these are problems they can overcome if they join the Union army.
Green goes on to say that African Americans shouldn’t find fault over past events, but rather, says in his one-hundred word sentence, “create within us (them) that burning zeal and enthusiasm for the field of battle which inspires other men in the full enjoyment of every civil and religious emolument.” He starts off this sentence by using words such as “burning zeal” to elicit their moral outrage and eventually ends with “…and above all, let not the honor and glory achieved by our fathers be blasted or sullied by a want of true heroism among their sons,” meaning to fight against the immoral chaos known as the Confederates to bring the peace that their ancestors died for.
Green ends his speech with a powerful and spiritual final paragraph. He tells the audience to “take up the sword, trusting in God” and defend the right, making it seem like they were the holy knights about to purge the South of all evil. He says that not only would enlisting in the Army help stop the “tyrant system of slavery” but “inspire your (their) oppressed brethren of the South” saying that not only would they be doing what is morally right, but they would be inspiring others to do the same.

I've been sailing to Ithaca. I will return home with logs of my journey tomorrow.



Hopefully.

The man who was fascinated with Winslow Homer let me enjoy the 21st century. I was only at the lecture at St. Mary's College because I'm getting poor marks in History. The speaker was inspired by Homer's sudden love of African Americans near the end of the war. You could tell this guy was serious about Homer, although he did say twice that Lincoln's second inaugural speech was the best work of art during the Civil War.

And then, my stereo woke up and made me want to dance On a Wire. It did not remind me of Teresa, although I have been thinking about what she has been doing lately. Sometimes I'll wake up and wonder what she is doing at that exact moment. She's probably cooking a few goddamn eggs. Tofu eggs.

I have an Improv show at school tomorrow and I am impartial. The ribbon on the wall keeps smiling at me. I don't know what to think.

I had a lot more to say, but I'm sure my hands will dance when they hear Graham Greene cracking jokes again. My mother just asked if she could eat this chocolate rose a girl gave to me on Valentine's. I laughed.

-george

No, I'm not really taking my journal down, so shut up already.

I talk shit about all of you every day.