let lemons be angry

I'm very happy. In less than five seconds the notes on the international economy, Dali, Cuba, integration and what have you were off my floor and back in the cupboard where they belong. And at last i could sprawl out on my couch and read not Hard Times, but Glamour. I'm still quite amazed that yesterday's seven-essay day went by without pain. And sheila's uncle's private pool did wonders for us. Being submerged in water makes one laugh louder and more freely, believe you me. There's nothing more luxurious than soaking in a jacuzzi and drinking hot milo at the same time. Well of course, unless it's soaking in the pool and eating pizza, or whitefudge-covered oreos. And making silly girl conversation with gems of friends. The best part about moments like that is that i know they'll be repeated. There's a bliss in repitition.

The pool took away my phone though. My chubby phone that was covered with nail polish graffiti, that always made people ask "were you banner painting" or if they were more intelligent, "did you paint that yourself?" It's gone. It breathed its last and disappeared before my eyes, and the light never came back on. Now i have this splendid new little thing, with a horse running on the screen which i think i'm tempted to name.

The Darkness is mind-blowing. They are essentially comedians, a parody of devillish bands like ac/dc, but they have the talent to pull it off and create a whole new sound of their own. They are energy and they are ecstacy and they make me feel like bungee jumping. And sheryl crow still owns the neighbourhood. I had the luxury of time to sit through her concert on dvd and now i have the luxury of time to do anything i like.

i woke up this morning to the sound of broken hearts
mine is full of questions and it's tearing yours apart