A Collection of Spectacles


I’ll start posting real posts when I go back to school. Prrroomise.


Shows for the rest of Jan (and anything else worth listing):

Magrudergrind /Black Kites/Defeatist/Ramps – Jan 23 @ The Cake Shop

NYC Punk and Underground Record Fair Jan 24 @ Public Assembly (Brklyn)

Aghast /Syndrome/Mega Minge/Nomad/Nightfall/[blahblahblah insert another crusty type band here] – Jan 30 @ ABC No Rio

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If you’re bored…


Rot your brain.




It’s easy to do.


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Sentences about multiple people.

Sitting in the passenger’s seat, I don’t remember much about our conversation except that your family was crazy, and that you smoked Marlboro menthol lights. When we moved to the city, we got a dog but had to send him to Maryland. He was happier there anyway. Sometimes I still think about him, although it happens less frequently and almost never in my dreams. He’s trying to drop six more. In a crowded apartment, I sat in silence and made awkward eye contact with the boy at the other end of the room. Then, I realized I am not as talkative now as I once was. She’s trying her best, and it’s important to learn how to stop analyzing every possible motive that may be behind a person’s actions. She is honest and that is what’s most important. You’re helpless sometimes, but I still care.

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Every post will be an incessant ramble until further notice, because I don’t care about putting effort into writing when I don’t want to.

Sometimes I really hate walking. It’s one of the only ways to get around, when you’re poor, or bored, or when a destination’s just far enough to be considered a pain in the ass to get to, yet so close that you wouldn’t dare waste a subway fare. When I’m walking, I think about nothing in its various forms, while I catch glimpses of the people that pass. Occasionally I’ll spot someone who is strange enough or cute enough to actually glance at. I’ve learned to shut everything down and tune it out, but the details are still hazy. I don’t know what I want so I ask her, because she tells me what I’m thinking when I don’t even know what it is I’m thinking, and she’s usually correct. I guess I want to be by myself, but I can’t articulate this well. Let me drop off this book and walk back to the station. Only, it’s never that easy.

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Four bars mean everything.

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Experiments in Unedited Rants (take three).

I’m posting mainly because I haven’t in a while. I haven’t posted in a while because I don’t feel as though I have much to say. When I’m not in school, I feel lost. I have nothing to talk about because these days, I think about the things I learn the most. I think I’m going to have to leave him because, well I really don’t know. I really don’t have a good reason for leaving, and this is why I think I’m going to leave. Because I’m an idiot and because I can’t stand being happy. Because I’m looking for some perfect archetype who has everything together. Who is everything all at once. Who doesn’t exist. Notice that these lyrics sound more melodramatic when written: We’ll die alone, together. Die alone, together. Before she left, she told me that I should make my decision here in suburbia and take it with me to the city. I’m going to say that I don’t want anything and I especially don’t want to be touched. I want to be left by myself and bury myself in books. Some comedian once talked about how when women are young, men are like tissues that are thrown away. Old age and failed relationships cause them to start reusing tissues. I feel like I should meet more people because I’m young, but I don’t want to end up alone like my grandma or alone like my father.

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