Flash crashed again. I give up for today.

I’m a baby bottle pop on the “What Candy Are You” quiz. Sweet.

> Glenn Miller Orchestra - In The Mood
> Elastica - Car Song
> J. Lo - Play
> Rammstein - Mutter

I think that I was an independently wealthy womanizer in a past life, because I just LOVE Glenn Miller–I get flashbacks of sultry nightclubs, cigarette holder-wielding women in red dresses, and nights at the club. Glorious. Well, I’ve been working on my website a lot lately, I made the cutest thing ever. I was so tempted to e-mail Molly the link, but I guess I was too lazy. Go here for the cutest thing ever. It’s also accessible through the links page of my website. I’m talking to Tawna online. We took the Completely Pointless Personality Test. I’m a sexy red slip. Oh yeah. She’s taking the other tests on the site. Flash has been crashing something fierce, so I haven’t gotten a hell of a lot. I got a prototype of the Links page online, and the beginnings of the Password page. The Password page is going to be the uber-dope gravy.

I kind of want to go into the clubhouse to use the computers there, but they are all taken. I’ve been downloading Photoshop 7 onto my computer–it takes forever via dialup, but it’ll get done soon. I’m also downloading Dragon (the voice-recognition software that I crave). I hope it works. Well, I’m updating my website despite Flash’s incessant crashes. I saw Amy a few days ago when I came to work on the paper. She kept saying “If there’s anything that I can do…,” but when I suggested things she kept giving excuses. Oh well. I’m going to try to get to sleep early tonight so I can get up around nine and get to work around ten, so I can get some work on my website done after I get off work.

I just updated the navigation bar so it reaches the password page. I don’t know yet what the password page will protect, but I know that it will be one of the pages I spend a big amount of time on. Engimas fascinate me, and Baudrillard wrote a book about passwords. I need to buy it. My next paycheck i’m going to spend frivolously on clothes, just so I can satisfy my needs for cute clothes. Well, the multitasking that I’m doing will probably result in the loss of this post, so I should finish. The password page will be so cool! Oh, I talked to Taggart today, he leaves for Europe tomorrow. I stopped talking to him, mostly because AIM crashed, partly because I don’t enjoy it. It reminds me of good times which sadden me. Well, I should go.

> Just finished watching Spun for the first time
> Chester Benningham of Linkin Park - System
> Eve 6 - Here’s To The Night
> Placebo - Commercial For Levi
> Nine Inch Nails - Reptile
> Eiffel 65 - My Console
> Moby feat. Gwen Stefani - Southside
> Bjork - All is Full of Love
> Marilyn Manson - This Is The New Sh*t
> Deftones - Lucky You
> Cardigans - Lovefool
> Aphex Twin - Cock/Ver 10

I just saw Spun for the first time. It was so profoundly depressing. Taggart recommended that I watch it. I finally got the Internet to work while I had Windows XP running, but the OS wasn’t fast at all and kept being a bastard, so I uninstalled it. So I’m blogging. I’ve been DROOLING over a new computer soo bad, and was on the verge of signing up for a credit card. However, I had an epiphany. “What can I do with the new computer that I can’t do with this one?” Nothing. “Why do I want it?” Because I think that it will make me happer.

I think the reason I’ve been wanting a computer is because I’ve been so depressed lately. I need to be loved, just like everybody else does. (Yes, Molly, that was a homage to the Smiths) And not in the friend sort of love, I’m overflowing with that sort. I just want to be able to hold someone. I can’t help but think of Taggart. We would just lay there in each others’ arms on the couch at Kelly’s for hours–I loved him so much. God damn, I’m crying now. I’m so fucking pathetic. This feeling is the worst feeling in the world. I just want to hold him one last time…kiss him one last time. Oh god, I can’t cry in the living room, I’ll wake dad up. I’m so fucking pathetic…I didn’t go to Nikki’s bonfire…I just sat in my room and watched Nadja. Everything is pointless, I’m going to be alone forever. Men are sutpid, ignorant, lying assholes. Great, now I have eyeliner all over my face. And to top it all off, “Commerical for Levi” just came on. I hate depressing Placebo songs. I just don’t know what to do. Spun was kind of a less-artsy Requiem for a Dream.

Maybe I’m in theis mood because I watched Nadja. Maybe it was the porn. I watched more porn than movie, time-wise. Maybe it’s because it’s one in the morning and I’m so profoundly alone. Maybe it’s because of people that grate on my nerves. Maybe it’s because I’m just meant to be like this. Fuck photography. I want to drop. I’m going to ask Diane if they’ll cancel the class if I drop. Maybe. But I know I won’t–I’ll just do the thing I always do and never ask. I’ll just develop mediocre print after mediocre print. And we are brought to the crux of my life, “Reptile.”

“Devils speak of the way in which he’ll manifest
Angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress
Need to contaminate to alleviate this loneliness
Now I know the depths I reach are limitless”

Truer words were never spoken. My allergies are coming back, I realized it today. I’m going to have to start taking that $100 Advair Discus thing. Fuck. Fuck everyone. Love is never real. “Love’s like rabies.” –Nadja I wish someone was online, but then again I don’t wish it–because there never really is any way to console someone who’s depressed. “I’d fuck you to feel something instead of nothing.” It’s a Manson lyric, but it’s so true. I want to feel something, goddamn it. I want to feel heart-wrenching agony, I want to feel despair, I want to be so happy that there are no words to describe my ecstasy, I want to be on the verge of suicide. I’m sick of this…plastic existence. Even my mom has a potential boyfriend. I have no one.

Last time I was at Royce’s house they were talking about Somas and I said “A gramme is better than a damn” and nobody laughed. I’m surrounded by cretins. Well, they’re not cretins–they are just different from me. I love Royce’s friends, becuase what they lack in book intelligence they more than make up for in life experience. His friend Bobbie and I had this amazing conversation about Crescent City, drugs…just a bunch of stuff. She is amazing. I just feel like I’m stuck in this stagnating pit of greed, lies, and stupidity, with only precious few moments of solace like my conversation with Bobbie. And one of my greatest fears is that I’ll never be able to use money to make me happy. I thought getting a job would make me happy. But money doesn’t make one happy. That’s what’s really sad. Sure, I could have all the fun technological toys in the world, but that won’t solve my emotional problems. Well, at least I can realize it. But that’s sad too.

Went and brushed my teeth–I’m feeling a bit better. I’m checking the Google store to see if they have a black Blogger shirt. I would so kill for one. They have it in navy blue–I guess I could dye it black. I would get it if I didn’t have only $17 in my account and exactly ten days until payday. Well, at two dollars worth of gas a day I might be able to make it. A gallon a day–it could work. As long as I don’t spend money on frivolities like that shirt. I need to buy a new work outfit with some of the money from my next paycheck. I’m going to buy a black collar shirt from every major department store, so I’ll have five different black outfits, one for every day of the week. And I only need four more. I really want that cute hat from Hottopic.com. I should gaze upon its’ cuteness.

I’m depressed because I’m alone. I must give Sammie the book I brought for her weeks ago. I’ve just been kind of ashamed, because it would be embarassing if she took it and never read it. If one of my friends gave me a book to read that wasn’t banal I’d so read it. And Vonnegut is never banal. My hands smell funny. I think it’s cuz I washed my face and my face wash is all perfumey. Yes, I just used the word perfumey. I’m going to buy all the sweet hats I want from Hot Topic. My hair has been being a bastard lately–well, not really–this deserves some explanation.

Okay, back when I was going out with Anus Face (Jordan) he convinced me to use brand-x Wal-Mart hair dye (which I was vehemently opposed to) and now, months later, that entire band of color has almost completely washed out. So I’m going to have to fry my hair and redo the entire mop. All because of Jordan’s cosmetological ineptitude. Man, say that ten times fast. Well anyway, I’m going to pick up some dye after I get paid and fry my hair. I’m going to get some uber-conditioner too. SWEET! Taggart is online. It’s so weird, every time I’m lovesick, he’s online. Creepy. I’m so not posting this until he gets offline. I can’t help myself, I just IMed him. I think I talked to him last night. Damn, it’s his sister. Or he just doesn’t want to talk to me. Well, I talked to him last night and he was all “I’m going to Europe” or some crap like that. I hope he gets herpes from some eurotrash faggot.

Ah, Bjork’s “All is Full of Love” just came on. I really can’t imagine anyone being in love with Bjork–maybe she has people write her songs for her. I’m uploading the pictures of my pimp hats. Gaze upon their pimpitude!

I think I’ll get them both. I may also get a Neo trenchcoat. That would entertain me. I’ll check out the trenchcoats from the military surplus store, they’re $40…but they won’t have the same coolness factor as the Neo trenchcoat. SWEEET, they have a side zip straight jacket. I want to take it home. It’s like $60 though…lame. Maybe I’ll get the crushed velvet blazer thing, I could wear it to work. That would be sweet. I guess money can’t make one happy, but it can make one look prettier. I think the flaw in my monetary philosophy was that I thought technological toys could make one happy, but that’s not true. Things that make one look prettier make one happy.

I’m just inexorably bored with my life—I crave a milieu that suits me at all levels, people that get me. A boyfriend that gets me. Oh well. We can’t have it all. Maybe I should get spun. At least if I did drugs I’d have an excuse for being so libertine. Eh, fuck. Enough with the philosophy it’s 2:30AM. Maybe I should try to be like Liz. If everything is meaningless, what significance do ideas have?