Sometimes I go back and read some of the stuff I write on here. Usually it's a bad idea, sometimes it's a good idea though. Take tonight for instance. I just looked at some of this shit and had to laugh out loud. I was never in the drama club in school(there's a snake on the floor over there), I was never a loud obnoxious guy in my past, I was never the type to complain much. Looking at what can come out of my mouth though is pretty funny, embarassing, yet funny. If I did write what was really pissing me off I would look like a real moron. "Someone made too much noise for me in the office today so I decided to tear them a new asshole behind their back...on the internet". "I didn't have time to eat dinner tonight, I hate every woman ever now", "My foot hurts, I'm never leaving my house again", "Nobody called me today...those fucking assholes are so fucking weak man". Maybe I was way too into Henry Rollins when I was younger, so now I have to kill myself every night. Ya know I never really get depressed. I have a temper problem. Well, I used to. I've never hit a girlfriend or anything stupid like that. Aside from one or two fights a long time ago, I'm not into that childish crap. The sight of two people fighting is probbaly one of the most ridiculous things you can witness actually. But I did used to break things.Limp Bizkit says it's okay to break things though, so maybe I should start doing that again. In all honesty though, I take things out on myself now. Or I just come here and bitch. Or write it all in my private journal, or play my guitar, or do a million other things. This is one outlet though that works best for me. I haven't smashed anything in a long time. I got over that,(thanks Tara) there are far too many better outlets for me to use nowadays. Looking back at some of this shit though, I also realize I keep doing that, and then "apologizing", or coming up with excuses for it a couple of days later. What a cop out that is. So, this isn't an apology for my sometimes childish, vulgar mouth, I guess it's another explanation. With that out of the way...

Tonight was a pretty good night, I did some early shopping with Tony and Shawn. Shawn needed a car stereo...so we went to...WalMart. While waiting for the "guy-whos-register-was-all-fucked-up-and-he-had-to-wait-for-his-guy-to-come-and-fix-it-but-couldn't-take-thirty-seconds-to-open-a-glass-case-to-give-us-a-box" for at least fifteen minutes we finally just said "Look, it's going to take you less than a minute to just give us that box, and then we will go to another register and pay, does that work for you?". He finally budged and we were on our way. While waiting though, we were in the hunting/fishing/skateboards/car stereos section and I found this stuff "Racoon Urine" in a bottle, for hunters. I was thisclose to buying it, but put it down. I thought it would be a fun thing to put on unsuspecting friends, etc. Maybe wear it out to the bar. They also had some "deer mating secretions" in a bottle, and stuff like that. Hunting, what a cool sport...if you're not a vegetarian anyway.

I feel good tonight. Very good actually. Happy as I can be. Things happen, and things come up that move me forward. Tonight I advanced a little more I guess. Not from being at Walmart, just other shit. I don't think I can imagine what it is like to be a shithead right now. I feel like having a drink. The day got progressively better, and my face doesn't hurt anymore. I had this strange pain in my cheek last night and today for a little bit. I'm assuming I got punched in the face while in the middle of a dream or something like that. You take those things back to real life with you ya know...

My friend Annu just got back from San Francisco yesterday, or Monday rather. She wasn't as impressed as people made the city out to be. Me, I love that place. I remember the last time I was there: I was in Los Angeles visiting my father, who lives there. I was going to drive up to San Francisco and visit my old best friend Bryn, who was a tattoo artist up there, and see the Grateful Dead at the Shoreline Ampitheatre outside of the city. The day I got there it was hot and crowded. It was September, but it was hot as piss(human piss, not sure if raccoon piss is hot). The city is easy to get around, as it's so small. It makes Boston seem like New York City. So I call Bryn and tell him I'm there. he gives me directions to his house. It's about 3pm in the afternoon on a Friday, he has to work at 4. I meet up with him, notice he's gained a little weight, and he says we have about 20 minutes to kill. He pulls out some bright green marijuana. If you smoke pot, you know that upstate California has some of the best pot you can get. Basically, I took about a dozen hits off of this blunt he rolled and felt like I was on acid for the next....2 weeks...no for the rest of the day. I drop him off at work, and am told to pick him up at 11pm or so. "Whatever you do, don't drive" he tells me, "you won't find another parking space, and you're gonna get confused". So I start walking around. I go down to the water and take some photos, go to the Embarcadero(is that what it's called?), and start seeing millions of people everywhere. I freak out a little, so what do I do? Get in the car. Big fucking mistake. At one point, I drive down a one way street...a very busy one way street. Well, driving down a one way street is no big deal I guess...unless you're going the wrong way. That freaks me out-this is at 8 pm or so. I decide to park near his work and walk around for a couple more hours until he gets out. Finally, at 9:40 I find a parking space...5 blocks from his work...5 blocks down a gigantic hill from his work that is. I made my way down to the water again and sat on a bench for a little while, collected myself. Even though I was in such a state, I had an amazing time in that city. I love it there. I've been there a few times, and if it wasn't so expensive I'd move there. When I finally picked up Bryn he said "hey, do you want to go smoke a joint with this guy I work with?" I replied "ummmm...yeah I guess", and I ended up crashing on his couch from way too much of that stuff. Morale of the story? Walk, don't drive.

I'm tired.

before & after