chika-boom   
09:19pm 14/11/2003
 
mood: calm
music: the strokes-reptilia
today was preeeetty good
hmm biology
mr william and i made a mess
blue shit that won't wash out all over everything
hmm basketball
coach didn't let me play
i wore my moccassins
i like watching taylor, that kid is somethin else

grounded for tonight.. couldn't go to golfland.. or hang with karlee

i hope ms melissa gets better		  
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sick   
11:16am 09/11/2003
 
mood: sick
music: operaticmusic-umarked/a kill theory
i'm still sick. i've lost 3 lbs and i've been sick for 3 days

it's not just for everyone, is anyone listening now?

when outside i'm screaming, i'm screaming
no one is listening

got the old strokes		  
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boo-ored   
05:45am 07/11/2003
 
mood: pissed off
music: thursday-tomorrow i'll be you
i feel like shit

as the boss says: "i take a look in the mirror, i wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face"

in the circuit, the frequency's breaking up. the speakers can barely move this is not a test tune to the broadcast. witness the jetlag. look in the mirror. adjust the V-hold shatter the lens. pull out the shards. choke on her words, caught in her throat. how long can the wheels maintain a spin, at this velocity? on every block, a reminder: you can't stop this intersection. at every turn, dead forests of tenements rise like antennas. the miles are adding up and the days are counting down. cut the jet black from my hair before we're bathed in the dawn of New Year's Day. I will change back to myself in the flame, we burn like the paper hearts of dead presidents. we're too lost, to lose hope. maybe the night seems so dark because the day is much too bright for us to see that we are cured. (shatter the lens. pull out the shards). we are cured (choke on her words, caught in your throat). that's the sound of music from another room the piano player hangs from piano wire but the player piano carries on. sit back and tune to the broadcast. this is not a test shatter the lens. pull out the shards. choke on her words, caught in your throat. as the language dissolves and the setence lifts, a slow alphabet of rain is whispering, "aabcttipacbdefg..." since I replaced the I in live with an O, I can't remember who you are... ...but tomorrow I'll be you. just pick up the phone. I'm calling from your house, in your room, in your name, lying in your bed, following your dreams. I listen to your voice get caught in my throat as I sing, "This Is Just A Dream." on New Year's Day, we will change back to ourselves. in the flame we are cured. we are cured. we are cured.		  
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  mynameisdrew