THIS BLOG IS THERAPY.: Xiaolin Monkz

Hello world!

Katherine and Elicia just left and I am left alone and bored to blog.

I don't have clothes on and it's real fucking cold even though I put the thermostat up...

I miss company, being alone is so awful.

It's the weekend before exam week and it's time to put those thinking caps on, whoa.

Really, I just want to finish the next week and officially be a second semester senior.

Anyways, lemme recap my day.

First block was memoirs, I read my last memoir and kind of got myself into a pickle.

I wrote vaguely about an extremely taboo subject and when answering questions-- gave it away.

Tarr or Graham, if you're reading this, Natty Ice got wicked concerned.

I was called out of class and had to have a mini-conference call with my counselor and my other counselor who was at home.

Good times.

Anyways, Natty-Ice and I talked and things got figured out...

Block 2 was Philosophy.

I got my psych-box kid.

Justin Tse.

He doesn't read this, so I don't care that I'm posting his name.

I just need to keep this as a note so as to not forget to avoid all types of nuts in the candy/food/toys I fill his "So-Crate" with. HA. HA.

Whatever.

Then, I had math where Megan and I pretty much just left class and got other work done.

I'll miss Mr. Malone.

He's a good guy.

Too bad I'm failing his class.

After that, I went and visited Newton-Wellesley Hospital where I'll be volunteering for the latter half of the school day.

The green line's right there so it'll be nice to just go into the city after work.

We returned to school only to go back home.

I avoided buses and got a ride, which was nice.

I got home, thought a lot about last year.

About regrets that I don't want to have.

So I wrote a letter and sent it to this kid to make sure I patch things up.

He made me the best mix cd

I've ever gotten.

I listened while I wrote.

Then, an old friend who I kind of betrayed, called.

She asked if I wanted to go dancing, but I was busy.

She said that she wasn't mad at me anymore, which was good.

It's nice to see people let go of grudges and it's nice to be on good terms with people you enjoy spending time with.

The girls came over then.

And now we've gone full circle.

END GAME.

I'm racking my brains to see if I have any excellent thoughts to share...

OH. I don't have thoughts, but, I have music.

My friend Brian just wrote this song and it's pretty good.

Nice, upbeat.

"23456"

And here's his myspace.

Also, a poem he's wrote:

And I know my job, documenting and diagnosing my generation. To keep the Plaid Shirted Indie kids smoking across Harvard Square , the folkie minors and modern beatniks dancing in Newport Rhode Island, the hipster scum in looking sullen in Maryland, the stoned prom queens in San Francisco, and the most beautiful sunlit girls tucked away in the Manhattan Skylines who push pipes back and forth sitting cross legged in white rooms facing white walls on white carpets passing pipes made of yellow and blue glass back and forth while Transantlanticism plays through Ipod speakers on Central Park West up by Seventy Second street.
I want to fly across on the wheels of my old 95 Maxima, dropping the car into fifth gear from sea to shining sea. I want to float down the Mississippi letting gravity, cancer filled sun, and dirty water carry my soul clean. Reflecting on cocaine binges, vultures turned politician, cats turned to connection, north of north.
Shakespeare Stoned.
I held your hand, watching blue security lights turn into stars, frantically scribbling down some poem about Carlye and poet dreams. Baby Baby Baby.
Baby Baby Baby.