Greatest fucking album of all time.
Last night I finally got to listen to it and actually enjoy it. Because before, I was minding my own business and crap on livejournal typing my usual shit here and letting the songs play on the computer without acknowledging how great they really were. I may be starting to treasure it more than my Zeppelin box set. Not sure, Use Your Illusion II is that fucking brilliant to win me over Zeppelin. I'm really pathetic though, because I tend to listen to Izzy's rhythm guitar rather than Slash's beautiful solos. Yes, I am obsessively Izzy-crazy like that. And instead of saying that I will someday find my Prince Charming, I will someday find my Izzy Stradlin.
I just killed a mosquito on the wall with my french workbook. There's this nasty blackish brown smear on the wall that looks like the cover of The Downward Spiral. Good ol' Trent, so creative. Using 50 mosquito wall-smears worth for a single album cover.
No, I will not clean it up. It adds a nice texture to my wall. You see, I am quite the interior decorator.
I've got so much stuff to listen to, including all of this new Incubus. But I just can't set myself to fully enjoy it because I just can't get enough of Guns n Roses. Don't worry, I swear, eventually I will stop my Guns n Roses phase and move on. Like I usually do. For example, I used to be absolutely positively crazy maniacal about Korn. But then I grew up and found out there was much better stuff out there. That was when I was 10. I was a stupid kid.
So today was overall...a blur. I've got this gift of putting my brain off to another side, supposedly dozing off, and somehow making things go by faster. The bad side, I don't remember anything. But I'd rather have these years gone with than remember all the bad things. There are no good things. You've got to be a fucking idiot to enjoy puberty.
My mom is not talking to me again. Second time this week woo hoo! This time for saying that I don't like the stringy stuff in our dinner today. I was taking forever picking all the nasty stuff out and she started yelling at how it's supposed to be like that. God, even my dad doesn't like it. Then she starts complaining that I never come out to eat and neither does the sibling but no I get yelled the shit out of me and my eardrums get a nice solid beating of excruciating middle aged asian woman screams. Oh well, you can't force feed me to eat, or else I will puke out my oddly colored intestines into your face, bitch.
I can't believe Leah is still talking to me. Why couldn't the fascists have gotten her ancestors? After ignoring her for ever since this semester started, she still has no clue that I love Phil Collins' bald head more than her.
Christina N. @ 7:09 PM
