eat drink and be merry...
part one:christmas to here, and there:
dec 24 - christmas shopping + dinner with ali's dad's family
dec 25 - christmas with my dad's family (mom's family is state side)
dec 26 - boxingday shopping (music
see below) + dinner at ali's mom's family
dec 27 - dinner with ali and parents at sarah's
dec 28 - kara's party
dec 29 - skating and meredith's house
dec 30 - Andre's movie party
dec 31 - new year's eve at ali's
jan 1 - recover (*sigh* will i be bored or happy?)
jan 2 - road trip (sorry erika)
jan 3 - john's party?
jan 4 - home work - procrastinate much?
jan 5 - work (8:30)
gotta clean my room in there somewhere...
call me, i do have free time, (i don't really have to recover or do work, i'm just saying things... words together in sentancess grouped in to paragraphs, in order to get across ideas. you know what i mean. the facts of there matter are that there is free time in there, and i might get bored. i like talking on the phone.
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part two:A Moderate Funk
"there is a theory that states that the if the secret of the universe were discovered, it [the universe] would disappear, and be replaced by something infinitily more complex. there is a second theory that says this has already taken place. there is a third theory that states the first two are a bunch of hooey made up by the marketing department of the hitch hiker's guild to the galaxy to sell more books." -Douglas Adams
"nothing worth having comes with out a fight
gotta kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight" -Bruce Cockburn
overcoming the earthly bonds and walk with me to a place of dark and light, the perfection we strive to reach in the impossible moment of pure creativity, the creation that emergies both perfect and fluid. a world we can only peek at, catch glimpses of, and dream about... that place is not where i am, but where i want to be. no, that's where i want everyone else to be, so i can enjoy the fruits of there perfect labour.
why must the artist struggle or starve. why aren't teachers revered as gods (good ones, at least). why isn't moderation, moderatied? [why is abverviation such a long word?]
a beautiful girl loves me, my friends aswell, they enjoy my compainy, my witty banter, and boyish charm. the world turns, and they still love me, i still love them, and the all is good in the world, accept there problems, drama, moot, useless, real, painful, important, childish, or whatever. like a harpsicord and jimi hendrix, it seems like we're piecing together a puzzle of a real place in the mind of so astrial celestial being. they sadness seems to be so out of place, and required to character. you wouldn't be you, noonewould.
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part three:i - me
i feel like a different person with each different person, like each of you draw out a different part of me. how does that work, what cause it? a social chameleon. it doesn't feel fake, it's just different faces. i like how somepeople bring out the funk, the laidback, the worker, the rock, whatever... i just thought you'd like to know.
thanks for your time...?
etc?