chronicles of wanking

Sorry updates have been kind of lax and infrequent. I'm sure everyone has been biting their nails like crazy lately, wondering how much I'm going to complain about school and tell recycled versions of the same jokes involving penises (most noteably mine) and penis-related things this week.


Edit: the original text has now been changed because I'm sometimes low enough to feel like I said something stupid over the internet and am nervous until I get a chance to take it down the next day and feel like my terrible attempt at being funny has been up for 24 hours for all of the world to read while they think to themselves "he's trying to hard." Though now it's maybe "why is he paranoid about his blog?"

Lately I've been thinking about resolving to find better things to do than sit on the computer. Like read books more. Books take me an average of two months to read just because I so rarely find time inbetween bullshitting on the internet and watching TV even when there's nothing on to read a book, write something, work on drawing, actually do my homework, or something else like that.

Like usual I'm probably just talking out of my ass and none of this talk of being more constructive will amount to me actually being constructive. But who knows!


I love rediscovering bands/albums. Right now it's "Dead Moon's Calling" by Mad Sin. For a while that, Mr Bungle's self-titled album, "A Grand Don't Come For Free" by the Streets and "Bad Music For Bad People" by the Cramps were shining beacons of light during the black hole of adolescent frustration/mopery that was my first year of high school, when I spent too much time locked in my room listening to Bright Eyes and Elliott Smith and had not yet discovered the slippery slope of chemical self-medicating that has made things screwy in an entirely different but more enjoyable way and has caused me to write run-on sentences.