Yes. I did just post a picture of Audrey Kitching. She's pretty, and I love this picture.
So as I sit here on a Sunday night, at 11:00, I have screwed myself over once again. My sketchbook sitting on my bed, for my unfinished sketch for art class. My literature book sitting in my locker, all 10 unread chapters. My empty word document, waiting to finish that third page. I am Jack's sense of failure and defeat.
Nothing really matters, anyone can see, nothing really matters to me.
If I had a tumor I'd name it high school.
'Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is nonexistent. And don't bother concealing your thievery--celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: "It's not where you take things from--it's where you take them to.'
Maybe if I disappoint myself enough I could pick all the pieces back up. You have to hit the bottom before you can make it to the top. I must not have hit bottom yet. Because I think I just sunk a little lower.
It's nice to know that you can always find a fault. Because of course nothing could ever be good enough. I still feel guilty. A moment is all you can ever expect from perfection.
But then I start to annoy myself. Again. Those abstract little thoughts with obscure meanings that just kind of flicker through my mind with incoherent passings.
People ask you questions just so they can talk about themselves. And when they don't reciprocate, thats when we get pissed off.
It's funny how facebook has the power to make you want to be anyone but yourself. That girl with a thousand photos and perfect blond hair. That gorgeous scene boy with annoyingly deep felt lyrics as statuses. From a picture anyone's life can seem better than your own. This is before you realize it's like an advertisement, false imagery. And you feel stupid. But that person you never wanted to be, suddenly their life seems pretty damn appealing.
Read this. You're not depressed. Your pity party is not something I'm interested in attending.
http://www.altpress.com/contributors/entry/see_you_next_fall._and_the_one_after_that._and_the_next_one._and/
This song is gorgeous.
