I have moved Xanga's. If I wanted you to know it, I'd write it here. Some people on my Protected list have access to it. But that's it. Chief reason being is that I don't like what this account stands for to me, so I'm gonna pull an act of tabula rasa. Sorry if you didn't make it on the all-star list.

I commence with my new Xanga on September 9, 2004.

This calls for a brief hiatus! A hiatus from Xanga, from abstaining from weed, from giving a shit about graduating high school, from trying to write well, from reading, from thinking, from being productive, from being tolerable, from being something I'm not yet, from supposed-to's, from listing stupid lists online, from the groove that I've settled in.

Vacation destination: Doesn't matter, it's the journey that matters, right? (That was sarcasm, you fucking idiot.)

Postscript: It seems fitting that the day I take another (brief) break from Xanga is the 666th day since I started.

Why do I feel like such shit? There's no reason to be feeling crummy. But then again, there's no reason to be happy. Of course, it's a new day and we could spew some sentimental carpe diem-style bullshit. Or we could just... Okay, I don't even know why I'm bothering.

Just one of those days where you wish you can just sleep right on through until you feel fit to face the world. Naptime is good. I can hibernate. And shit. And I don't care about the quality of this post. It doesnt matter to me anymore so who cares let's all do the happy dance because the happy dance can make you happy even though inside your just boiling and ready to pounce on everyone for being the smiling, insincere assholes that they really are underneath all their bubbly personality as if that is even remotely convincing. Yeah baby, do the happy dance where we can lose track of the beat but it doenst matter that we just keep screwing up asl ong as we do everything together sand sticktogether til the end. fuck, i dont want to touch ddatm damn delte button but they typosc come out fast fand furious ans i have to keep apusing to makse usure that im not hitting it this sform of selfcontrol is so much more difficult than being anal about the deatilas. this is the restiance t ot he ruge of being anal., im gonna look back ta this and not even understand what i said because the cyper is too complicated even the for teceatreator. mabybe ogd ofeels like this sometimes when helooks at us becuase hus just cant fi gures out where the fuck he fucked up. or perhaps its not a man or woman but something mixed aor noteven binetween but what destot it matter gto debates uch sthings when it will never be resoltesved. every person that thinks they red strong enough to defeat san acnient debate is just a fool and concieted one at that. do you read this? because i sfaan the frest of it as im typing you kno wthe shit thats baove because now im not looking atthe words that i;m typing but just opojnding along and i see that it if very difficuult to comprheend even though my nerusons are all in straight order. i mean i was going to go blaze today but i called it off because im a fucking sissy and i dont deserve to eve gtalk about being the bunny because im not even any thing like that. i m a fucking twofaced bitchass because i dont even know anything yeap, im a map all right. except i don't eveen know what the matp itst rying to point ou t toeme  but i think to o muchas as i try to type all this shit out in  a coherent manner and i know i;m failing but i'm pressing on in spite of all this becaisuse i don'te ven know what's driveing  me to act like asuch a motehrfucking buffoon. maybe this is just serviing a cathartic purpose. i glance around my room as i type this and i 'm tyring to think of something to talk about. oh wait , this isn't even m yr oom but just the room i spend all my time in because i'm a fuvcking looser that doesn't do anything but spend all his time online an msasturbating like the fucking dork that i am . thwhat the hell am i trying tp oprvoe here. i maybe it's that i';m f fighting the write'rts block despirte the fact that i know that nothing im writing is of much value. but that's ok ay because this is the way i decided to d othings and i'm not gonna gstop until my ahnds are cramping. oh wait there they go i wonder if this is what ahrtisthirs is like , man it loks likes i can't lspell or even make up my mind on how to spell things because i lack consistency . but how has any stabitility anyhow? we just try to feign in when the ycycle just keeps us mbouncing along, round and round, and there 's not way for any of us to get off this goddamned amusmeent ride because if there is a god he's laughing his ass of wathcing us and our pitiful antics from above in the could shand shit. and i question qgod as to what right god has to mock us in such a fucked up manner. i challenged them all those damn gods with my pride and my idiocy to rain lgithinging and plauges abupon me so i can learn to be a god-fearing person because as of now there seems t obe little purpose in all that i'm doing. this is the dumbest activithingthyging ive ever done on my xanga, and this dincludes all the stupid potss dedicated to shit talking about petty things that nobody eve n cared about. it's great to be a cynic but who cares if you're gona be a pussy an dnoevt even stand for anything because youre too scared of being rebuked by everyone else. so this is my statement to the world and this is who i am, if i wras writing by hand, first of all, it would baee a lot shorter because my hand would start cramping soonre, and second, it would be all smudeged and crossed out because i writre wtith a penamanship that loks as if i t belongfs to da dergarenged two year old. or maybe those pkids can't write but bmaybe they can. oh what does any of this matter anyways.

FUCK.

Postscript: wallow in the self-pity until you vomit even at the slightest hint of it. fuck that shit, kill it now. without mercy.