Intriguing. I've a blog. And as a side note, it is officially impossible to make a blog look cool.
Kate's Day:
Arise: 5:45
Public Transit: 6:40
Study: 7-9:00
Class: 9:30-2:00
Rest/Strum on Guitar: 2:30-4:30
Transit again
Work: 5-midnight
And now... this. Cause lord knows I can't go to sleep yet. Basically, I realized that I haven't been doing a great job of keeping up with Alex. So this is mainly for her. And anyone else in the interweb who is mildly interested in my interests. I will do my best to keep my daily play-by-plays to a minimum (the above being the only breach). High level banter, low level journaling. A good goal, at least.
So Al, for starters:
1) Go to www.questionablecontent.net.
2) Get Mom/Dad to buy you "This Year", "Color in Your Cheeks" and "Dance Music" by the Mountain Goats
3) Read 1984, and then A Clockwork Orange
4) Wear the red shirt I made you for Christmas
5) Cuddle with Toby
That is your assignment for the day. More tomorrow.
Funny Every Day
If I Listened to Music
What I Love
The feeling of cheap paper when you’ve written on both sides of it—how it folds so easily in your hands.
Parking lot reverberations from speakers—public announcements or the radio.
The smell of dark, dusty leather.
Doing dishes with someone.
Wet asphalt.
The scar in the middle of my lip and the lump on my rib and the crescent on my hand.
Ringing poetry.
Some days I'm in love with everything I see.
Parking lot reverberations from speakers—public announcements or the radio.
The smell of dark, dusty leather.
Doing dishes with someone.
Wet asphalt.
The scar in the middle of my lip and the lump on my rib and the crescent on my hand.
Ringing poetry.
Some days I'm in love with everything I see.
About Me
Make! Art!
1 comment:
And to think that I worried that you would mock me for my own blog. Let the dual-mockery begin!
Love it...have linked it to my own blog (which means anyone who reads my blog gets a double dose of you).
While I know that having your mom show up in your comments box will dilute your cool factor, I just can't help myself.
Love, Mom
Post a Comment