Bleh. It's Saturday. Sunday now. You know.

Tonight I was going to go see Where the Wild Things Are. Everyone is really excited about it. I read the book when I was little. I liked "Are You My Mommy", "Are You My Daddy", and "Go Tell it to the Tucan" more. Still, I wanted to see Spike Jonze at work. Either way, I didn't get to see it.

I wrote a song tonight, which I am less proud of with each growing moment, and I wasn't terribly proud of it to start with. I'm no Jesse Lacey. Not on paper.

I want to start drawing again, but I don't have any good things to draw from. If anyone wants to take their clothes off, I want to draw them. If anyone has pictures, I'd like to see them.

A Grasshopper lives in my basement. I'm not sure what he subsists on, but I'm growing accustomed to his face --- If grasshoppers have faces, I mean.

Suddenly I'm in an emo band. Not like new emo, with the mascara and the black suits. Like old emo, like Rites of Spring (sort of) or Sunny Day Real Estate (I suppose). I think I'm mostly in an emo band like Jesse Lacey. Except I'm not talented. I can be just as pissed about things as well as he can, though. From now on I'm only going to listen to Daisey and Daydream Nation. Practice telling me how deep I am.

My birthday is this week. Don't tell anyone, but I'm turning 20, and I think I may be inadvertantly investing a large percentage of my emotional well-being on this upcoming weekend going well. Fingers crossed.

I miss people I don't even know. I miss people I barely even remember. Christ.

I'm going to bed. I wish I was tired.