Journal! (original) (raw)

Sometimes I really like something loud and weird and dissonant and cacophonic. I like to feel it vibrating inside my chest and I like it to take over my thoughts. And I like to have just noise bouncing around between my ears.

It feels like spring to me and makes me want to rip my heart out, it makes me so happy.

01 October 2010 @ 06:37 am

Last night I was sleeping on the couch because I was studying and didn't want to move to take a little nap. Some time around four in the morning, I woke up to the sounds of my couch sneezing. For a tense few seconds there, I genuinely couldn't remember if the parents had bought an alive couch or not. Seriously disconcerting. Then I got back the mental wherewithal to realize that RCatz was behind the couch and she has a kitty cold.

After getting back to sleep, I dreamt I was a big burly blond guy with floppy hair, and I had gotten accepted into Law Hockey school. And my name was Hansen Penn. Yeah.

14 September 2010 @ 03:27 am

I'm going to list myself as "in a relationship" on facebook, wait two days, then post this:

If you have a wonderful man, who works hard to take care of you, would do anything for you, makes you laugh, is your best friend, who wants to grow old with you, always picks you up when you’re down, who is your world and someone who you’re thankful for, then post this to your …status. Give……the good men the recognition…… they deserve. Great men are few & far between and I have one!!!!*

Then, an hour later, I'm going to change my relationship status to "single".

*Facebook status update I've been seeing for a while now

London tube, District Line, chilly afternoon. I got on at South Ken. and just before the doors slid shut, a man shoved himself through. He seemed normal enough, mid-40's perhaps, wearing a navy coat. He had one hand in his pocket. He pulled out.... a pigeon, of all things. The bird was struggling, trying to flap its wings, but the guy started shaking it about violently, then finally he smushed it, over and over into the floor, crouching down. He stamped on it for a few minutes. Then...he pulled off his gloves, and started to dissect the corpse with his bare fingers, just kind of ripping entrails & feathers & pigeon eyes apart. And then, & this part still makes me nauseous, he slowly licked his fingers. One by one.

This is from a compilation of worst subway stories on gawker. A struggling pigeon. I can't even, you guys.

The Jetsons are alive in 2062. In order to see their world, I'll have to live to be 74. This puts a serious complication in my plan to die gloriously at the age of 32.

I'm going to force you into retreat with pop music.

25 February 2010 @ 01:42 am

Dear Canada,

You know how much I love you? I want to rub your feet right now. That's how much I love you.

Love,
Yosra

20 February 2010 @ 11:13 pm

OH GOD I'M DYING. THIS IS DYING TIME. CHARLES AND FRANCOIS. ARE BOTH IN THE FINAL. DEAD. LET'S SEE HOW THIS TURNS OUT. I AM CAPS LOCKED.

Subsequently:
My heart. It is broken.

19 February 2010 @ 12:41 am

Okay, Korea and France, you get a reprieve. For now. Norway, you best watch yourself. I will cut an intangible nation-centric idea of a bitch. You've been warned.

17 February 2010 @ 10:20 pm

I am now irrationally mad at South Korea for winning that third gold medal. See also: France.