Today is the typical day for me. Though lately, I have been really lethargic when it comes to school work. Today wasn't really all that different. I got a couple things done, but for the most part, today was the same.

The Continual Condition by Charles Bukowski

Slow Learner by Thomas Pynchon

As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner

Parasites of Heaven by Leonard Cohen

Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon

The Book of Longing by Leonard Cohen

Inherent Vice by Thomas Pynchon

The Collected Poems of Sylvia Plath

White Noise by Don Delillo

On the Road by Jack Kerouac

The Room by Hurbert Selby Jr.

Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut

The List is Growing

The Continual Condition by Charles Bukowski

Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon

Slow Learner by Thomas Pynchon

Parasites of Heaven by Leonard Cohen

The Book of Longing by Leonard Cohen

Inherent Vice by Thomas Pynchon

The Collected Poem of Sylvia Plath

White Noise by Don Delillo

On the Road by Jack Kerouac

The Room by Hurbert Selby Jr.

Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut

Books I'm going to read this year

The Continual Condition by Charles Bukowski

Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon

The Collected Poem of Sylvia Plath

White Noise by Don Delillo

On the Road by Jack Kerouac

The Room by Hurbert Selby Jr.

Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut

Already

I dropped my Shakespeare class today because I won't be able to handle the work load. But on the plus side I'm now graduating in the fall instead of next spring.

I also bought a Droid Eris as a suitable, verizon alternative to my once beloved Iphone.

I'm horrible at this stuff. I can never seem to keep up with it.

I'm gaining weight, but I'm not eating.

I think I'm depressed.

and I don't know why I decided to put that all here. Some would read this and say I'm looking for attention. Well maybe I am. Maybe I'm still just a fucked up little boy that is looking for acceptance in the world and still hasn't found it.

It's something when you realize what you are going to be doing for the rest of your life is the only thing that has ever really made any sense to you and the signs were there from day 1.

I really wish my parents had lived in a better school district.

I can't sleep

Once,

I wrote you a lonely love song,

but you weren't mine,

so I sang it to the stars.

And now, writing of you goes unfinished.

My mind is crowded

with future thoughts of

us walking along the Seine or

us standing in the streets of Florence,

of a trip to D.C., where our first,

the perfect mixture of

me and

you,

will be animated.

And perhaps then,

I will finally wrap us in scarves and slide across ice.