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I have earned the title, 'student home from University', two years late. I've earned about 64oz (the largest size of a tub of Best Food mayonnaise) of respect from everyone in my family. I can do no wrong. I haven't even had any interest in leaving the house, oddly enough. There are plenty of kids back from college and there are those that never left. I don't want to see them. I want to hang out on the couch and watch Modern Marvels on the History channel while my dad sits in his seat.

Oh man, my dad's seat. If anyone is sitting in this seat when my dad comes into the TV room he will promptly tell you to move. This is his mother fucking seat. No one sits in this. I can't even sit in this seat. Guests get away with it, but that's because they don't know better.
I don't even think anyone else in the family likes to sit in this seat. Don't get me wrong, the Eames lounge chair is The Lounge Chair but it will never be My Lounge Chair. It is Tata's lounge chair. My dad has his soul imprinted on this seat. When I walk into the room and see my sister or by some freak accident, my mom sitting in it, everything becomes unbalanced. For one, nobody looks good sitting in it but my dad. For a lounge chair found in museums, you would think everyone looked good when they leaned back against the leather. Not so. I never see my mom siting in it. I honestly can't tell you if I have ever seen her sitting in it besides the day she picked it up. She had been so excited about it but never sits in it. I don't get it. How has this seat become my dad. I really don't like sitting in it either. A general feeling of 'this is wrong' sets in immediately when I put my butt down.

I like the suede couch that Chris slept on when he would visit from Sacramento. The one that could be a little wider but only because I want to slouch sometimes. That's a great couch. It's not a lazy squishy couch, you can't sink into it or fall between the cushions. It's a rigid suede rectangle. You sit up and watch what you have to watch and get up because you have to do something important, which is never the case but I get that attitude from it. If couches or any sort of seating could have attitude.

Tanglewood Lane

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My Christmas Wish List

Ramble on Gordon Wood, your argument is wasted on my youthful ears. There was absolutely nothing radical about the American Revolution and I KNOW you know.

I am very pleased with myself, my ability to bullshit has improved by leaps and bounds since my enrollment at the University of California, Santa Cruz. I am constantly surprising myself with new vocabulary tricks that make my statements sound just so, researched. I do find it quite sad that it is my third year and I still haven't kicked the habit of procrastination. Have I really even learned anything this quarter ? Are my parents wasting thousands upon thousands of dollars just so that I can write an extra two lines in on my resume ? Yes. But it's okay. Right ? Yeah. Okay.

Seven 7"s and One 12"

reviews from today

1. dreamdate

A-Side: The One I Need

B-Side: D.A.N.C.E. Party

2. GIRLS

A-Side: Lust for Life

B-Side: Life in San Francisco

3. Kurt Vile

A-Side: He's Alright (vibrato guitars by J Turbo.)

B-Side: Farfisas in Falltime, Take Your Time

4. Sea Lions

A-Side: Lets Groove

B-Side: Beautiful Day, Good Feelings

5. Maria

A-Side:Love Is Something I know Nothing About

B-Side: Spend My Days With You, When The Sun Goes Down

6. times new viking

A-Side: Move to California, Pentagram

B-Side: City on Drugs, Teen Spirit in Hell

7. Simon Joyner

A-Side: Time Slows Down in Dreams

B-Side: Sean Foley's Blues

The only 12" I did today was Small Black, which was AMAZING.

tracklist:

Despicable Dogs

Weird Machines

Bad Lover

Pleasant Experience

Lady in The Wires

Pushed down by a slab of white and with water collecting and plugging my ears, I tried to convince myself that everything was alright.

Nothing has felt normal or natural since the moment I stepped into this living forest. I don't dislike the place but I don't like it either.

This forest is exactly what I wanted when I was fourteen and wasn't scared of anything. Six years later and I am scared. It isn't even fear alone, it is pure blind panic everyday. Every god damned day I feel like I am on the verge of a complete mental collapse, and I know it is all so fucking unreasonable. To pretend Pan isn't laying around in wait for me in some faux Greek vegetation is useless. I will have a few drinks in the waiting room, Pan wont be here for long.

I should be turning in my major declaration form, finding a way to eat lunch, reading The Atlantic Economies and After The Black Plague, writing a paper about race during the American Revolution, drafting an outline for a paper about whether it was god's giant Fail creating sin, and volunteering at the radio station. And what the fuck happened to all of those emails I sent concerning that internship?

Instead I will "faff" about, as the English girls would put it.

A blog! A place to erupt and use the english language as incorrectly as possible. I can write about Charles V and be totally cool or write about how Arab Strap make me shake.