I wear your rings and sores
in me in me it shows
The same panic of 2006: It's 90 degrees outside and I need to go get another job. This sucks.
I'm working, I think, a little bit, on the Dixon Place show. I am thinking about new written pieces and maybe a new song or something.
But mostly I'm listening to the same records i did in high school, during summer vacation. Thinking about how I felt then. I was verily assured that someday I'd get out of the suburbs, live in a big city with other queers and mean smart girls. And we'd all play in bands and make art and fuck the system up and everyone listens to Bikini Kill.
This fantasy sustained me for a long time. And then it sort of came true.
I guess I need a new one. Though, this one remains pretty awesome.
Riot Grrrl Reality 2008.
Today I feel like a really disorganized person.
I want to die my hair black and wear a white belt and big chunky black shoes.
(I remember that it's not 1997 in San Francisco, this wouldn't work here-- it's fucking 90 degrees out).
Sleater-Kinney is pretty much the only thing making this morning okay.