at our quietest
calm whispering giggles

the best (and what usually keeps me on the team) thing about being an american:

despite anything going wrong, one can immediately fix it by chanting the letters

U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!

when heard by aliens this common chant sounds like this:

OOH SA- OOH SA - OOOH SAAAAA

this post is called ~confidence~

the commonplace:

"love is what you make of it, you know. LIFE is what you make of it. life can be SO GOOD if you just have someone you love right next to you" (which is true, don't get me wrong)

however,

why i will be famous:

"love is like a box of PESTICIDE with creepy crawlers as ARMS and an octopus as a prime minister! you never know what you're gonna AIDS. PERFORMING LIVE AT LIVE-AID, GORGGG BRAAAA"

~DUBIOUS~~HARDWORK~~FAILUREEE~~

what i dislike most about modeling:

the clothes usually make up the person. hot clothes equal hot people.

what i like most:

nude everything

(i swear to god so many models look like little boys

i swear to god so many mes look like older women

I read a quote somewhere saying something like "modeling is making art with your body," which I vehemently (I pronounced this incorrectly the other day. Also used the social idiom, "walking on thin air") disagreed with in the beginning, but thinking back on Vonnegut's idea of art being the only remains to exist after one is dead, that person was absolutely right. I only remember the best of certain beautiful people. 

However,

I would ACTUALLY consider it an art if models would do their own thing and look the way they wanted, without (this is different from being influenced) mimicking the world of what's popular. It's one thing to live in the modern world, it's another to be a puppet.

That being said, there are some incredibly beautiful girls out there. Whether or not they actually feel they are beautiful is another thing. How many boring girls out there do you think latch on to handsome fellows simply because they provide instant self-reassurance? How many guys? Nearly everyone I reckon, which might not be a bad thing; my idea of what's attractive may absolutely differ from yours and I'm not out to change that.

All I'm fucking saying is this:

GODDAMN IS IT HARD TO TYPE ON TAUSCHERS SHITTY IMAC COMPUTER ! I HATE MORNINGS ! I MISS TERESA! I WANT TO FIND A GIRL WHO CAN MATCH MY MANIC PerSONALITTYTY!!! {aka new subject YA!}

a story:

Teresa and I actually became romantically linked through episodes of ghost writer. For some reason the idea of a flying sphere that solved mysteries was more than enough artistic inspiration for our souls to mingle and our bodies to intertwine. 

the truth:

we're both creepy as hell (and hard to get to boot. well, not her. and not me. we're actually pretty easy, you just have to know the triggers.

for example,

teresa's trigger is either a fried tofu block or the idea of doing something absolutely against her own morals. for instance, she is a vegan, and after watching everything you wanted to know about sex but never asked i decided to tie her up and forced her to eat lamb and pork and lots of bacon, bacon wrapped bacon, bacon wrapped kittens and puppies and lots of children while i bathed an inuit in sauce (~VaGueE~ ~mYstERRIOUS~)

needless to say, she sang.

my trigger is anyone actually running their fingers through my hair. this is true, and has caused me to fall in love with sixty or ninety people at a time. i've decided that i should actually encapsulate my beauty on film, and will be doing so upon my return to montreal.

speaking of montreal

GOD I MISS YOU

luv

goradffdaggad

p.s.

teresa and i were flirting through text (anyone who reads that stuff besides us would probably label us as romantic as a couple of staplers. staplers actually have better grammar than we do sometimes), and we both talked about how silly it is of anyone to try and correct grammar. it's the oldest "i identify with this theory so i will battle it til the end" deal. no one really identifies with anything. 

here is a description of how i've recently thought of myself:

i am a crystal hovering in the sky with every possible light shining through me. whichever colour i am is a mystery! 

(in other words, i am a chameleon and a notewriter, a mannequin harlequin in disguise as a boy. whether or not you choose to believe me is inconsequential)

jeez i am really sorry {i realized later on that i shouldn't apologize} about that other post. i think i felt deep down it all needed to be said aloud. something bumthing? hunthing
gsaun thing g
ggg
um

i seemed like an asshole; i think i just stopped caring about a lot of things, and started caring about different things. i'd rather have humor talk for me

also wanted to point out how lucky i feel.

MOM
so dasha ashley and teresa who do you think is most happy person

GEORGE
you mom.

MOM
i was not on the LIST, honey! is aid DASHA TERSEa And ASHLEY

GEORGE
youU!!

MOM
I WAS NOT ON THE LIST YOURE NOT LITSENIGN!1 UGGH
STOP UR FINGERS IM TRYIN TO HAVE A MOTHERS AND SON MOMENT HERE!

also, i LOVE LOVE LOVE you too baby. tell monica i said hi, and look forward to seeing her at just for laughs

new years resolution:
using tools to the best of my ability
going to dentist

STOP DROP AND ROLL

HOLIDAYS!

also, heading to california soon. i miss my people

so i got boo'd on stage for the first time ever,
i've decided im neve rletting that happen again

as soon as i got out of the cab this morning,

"HEY LETS ASK THIS WOMAN FOR DIRECTIONS"

getting disciplinary action
"THAT ASIAN GIRL HAS A PHONE OVER THERE SHE NEEDS TO COME WITH US"

indian woman coming back to tell me something:
"she needs an extra ten minutes"

woman who didn't make any sense to me:
"yes, SHE sure does"


and there you have it.
also if you want to know why i got in trouble it was cause i used my phone as a time piece. apparently that's a threat

does anyone out there ever feel underrated as a person?
sing to me, i'll listen

apparently most of my childhood/teenage heroes were loners too;

boo radley, holden caulfield, jay gatsby, meursault, CLOUD STRIFE OR VEGETA MAYBE, sonic the hedgehog?



one of the toads in mario's castle that don't talk, really.

MARIO
hey, lemme eat your head i wanna trip for a while

TOAD
mario i think you have a problem

MARIO
I'LL SHOW YOU A PROBLEM GRAAAH *chomp chomp chomp*




~comic booky~

they're teaching me that solitude stems from choice...

tummy hurts

:) :) :)

i think this blog has become one of the funniest things i've ever done
but i don't know how many people see the humour in the lament of the human soul!!
(since when did he start putting u's where there shouldn't be u's?)

ever since

ra ra ra

i
dentify most with the french

as they are the greatest proprietors of the modern theory
of
escapism.

why live life when we can be surreal about it?

my brain and my heart weep this morning

leap frog

how im feeling:
IM A RESTLESS WRITER TRYING TO WRITE WITH NO INSPIRATION! HELP!!!

"is this what you're really thinking all the time?"

what does it matter what i'm thinking?
what does it matter...

last night while intoxicated i made the sleepiest
sloppiest phone call.

it was the first time someone's told me they didn't want to talk on the phone (with no other reason than "it's better that we shouldn't")

when i asked what had happened
the moon exploded and killed us both

We laid around smoking joints;
I had hung up a new string of Christmas lights, green,
admiring the synergy with blue proudly
the aquarian double helix clawing its way at my door.

i passed the time by watching movies, trees lodge, interview, the big lebowski, week end, 187, animal factory, and ratatouille. i've pronounced the last one as "rat-a-teel" several times to several confidants

I choose not to open my shades when I'm home because I am the type to separate home and weather. Call me old fashioned, but a man knows how to separate his soups

MAN
separate emotion from CAKE!

WOMAN
never!

it's warm in here
i stopped wanting her in my bed, her specifically, laughed about it and looked forward to cupping her hand and not touching her more than that, watching motel and talking the way we always have, like two wandering starlets that dropped from the sky so many nights ago. how did i find you? i remember it was romantic, wasn't it sweety00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000001
[i think that's binary for a big mass of hair when
you're young
and a vertigo-inducing telly tutton, a paranoia agent
a
tummy massage?]

I don't think I've become idiotic through all the marijuana use, but I do feel sad when it's 9am and I'm looking at photos that shouldn't mean anything to me at all. What is with humans anyway?
We're the only fucking people in the world that carry around things that make us sad. Pick up some fucking legos or a bottle cap like a normal dolphin


She kept driving that night
listening to old
songs
and feeling
old
the cigarettes ran out and she had to pull
in







THE ALTERNATIVE CONTRACEPTION METHOD-

the pull-in method


it WORKS! (works you like a fucking con)

Whenever I try to write anything coherent anymore, it dissolves into an avant-garde paste, slapdash and slapstick, with little or no real artistic value. The aesthetics are not in place (though if I were even a slight visual artist, I could show you what goes on in here a little better), and the assembly is flawed and insincere. I think about writing then I think about the drug that inspired the last two years of my life.

that drug would be

the

artistic bullshit in a box
i've been
shovEling
d
o
w
n
M Y
T
H
r
O
a
T

Are you listening, sweetie? Call me champ again. I just like it, that's all.

Miss Scarlett has burrowed her way into Mr. Green's undergarments. This animalistic ritual provides the necessary warmth and comfort to sustain a hazy
fuzzy
skin tight
fingers spindly touch grade eye sight
we should get married (let me see your hand
- i want to know it's bigger than mine )
you're so...

your skin

your sweat,
[we're sweating,
y ou still want to
r O L L around

i ]
wanted
to DRINK your


Georgie,
wake up

UNINSPIRING DRIVEL
I WANT TO RIP YOU APART
TEAR AT YOUR SKIN AND CLAW
at
the softest part of your skin
creme de la creme

snow white -
doc loves her still;
he hasn't been able to properly mine his own gold for months now, maybe even years. it's all HIS, all of it, he just hasn't had the drive to tap into it yet. this week has been the worst, with all the snow and seemingly no responsibility. boy is he going to be frustrated when he realizes that snow white was never the protagonist of this story to begin with


it's the past you know. and all the kinetic energy surrounding the future consumes my thought p ATHErn

maybe i should give up writing and start drawing
and maybe i should give up drawing and start writing
and maybe i should give up writing and start kissing
and maybe i should give up kissing and be tuberculosis

the point is clear:
the COAST is CLEAR! why haven't i been picking any flowers for anyone else?

he truly doesn't know does he?
[well, he isn't as bright as he leads on. sometimes i think he's a fourteen year old girl]
i wish you would tell him he's actually beautiful for once, instead of just standing there
[what kind of guardian angel would i be if he didn't have to work for any of it? do you know how good of a life he hopes and wishes for every day? do you honestly want to know what he ASKS me for? it's all HISTORY, man! how can i give him back what he never lost in the first place?]
he needs motivation
he needs to fucking find it himself

I can't think
of anything witty to end with.
My father was a stick of celery and my mother was a big block of styrofoam. My appearance comes from the planets.


my advice to you:
don't become so stuck up that you forget how fragile ' people are
don't lose your heart

you've already changed again. it's time to think about the past in an entirely different light again

}eternal conflict
eternal

DRAGON?

buscemi trees lodge

i only rag on writing because it's such a lonely activity sometimes

not that i don't understand them;
it made complete sense to me, the whole pot thing,
i identified with my fat-fearing sisters,
it's a part of the whole androgyny of my life;
(though the right people have been right on in telling me i'm more masculine at my core than anything;
but this is just harsh
and primal
and raw
and anyone who says they don't have that part in them is absolutely lying)

someone said i looked like a moon creature and i got scared because i think people are figuring me out too quickly
[i'm as simple as a moon creature, really.
i'll admit it now, as i think it's cuter than crass, but don't hold me to it after a couple of drinks. i don't want any moon children wandering around]



[if anyone wants to know, i had a dream about this girl kate coming in and stomping on my fucking legs. the only thing i ever hear of kate is how depressed and drunk she is, i don't think i've ever spoken a word to her. i would really like it if she would stop haunting my dreams, i want to dream of princesses not peasants]




(i can't believe he called us peasants. what is he fucking on?)

i was told yesterday that the number one reason girls don't smoke pot is because they're afraid that they're going to gain weight

this further reinforces my philosophy that the illogicality of women should be put in a box and shipped to pluto (where things tend to disappear)




english professors, i've also noticed,
always try to start up a conversation
but then leave me with the most awkward taste in my mouth

... it tastes like sour candy

cold streak tofu tummy
not looking forward
to certain inconsistencies

MISSINGNO
what movie is this?

GEORGE
lost highway

MISSINGNO
i hate it

GEORGE
stop messing up my game

its sad that ive come to take all dressed chips as a coping device







whats really sad is that america doesn't have all dressed chips to begin with. h a ha suckas

bamm bam gun shoot
bam
#1 #1

#11

i AM #111







[we watched branded to kill before i trekked through the snow only to find out there was no show for me to do again.

this whole goddamn life thing is uphill, isn't it?



"HAVE AS MUCH FUN AS YOU CAN YOURE GONNNA HAAAATE IT IF YOU DOOOONT" - friends and family older than 15

you know what?
fuck everyone else's writing

i'm my own inspiration from now on.


ugh
it all sounds so forced now, these messages we're trying to relay to one another
and it's basic feelings of understanding that make the writing amazing
that's what draws us to
i t

r'ight?

debating whether or not to break the shit on the doorknob rule
(im hungover and fucking need some weed,
hard pressed to explore alternatives to pour out my problems on myself)

passed out
5am wondering where my head is
wondering where my goal is
hazy weekend
wish i got some stage time,
not looking forward to finals since teresa is coming in a couple weeks.
not even looking forward to seeing teresa

(this is all bullshit)