I just finished The Persian Boy, and I ended up crying. I’d better see what my friends are up to before I get into a mood.

It’s barely two and I’m already almost done with The Persian Boy. I think I’ll ride my bike or something. Maybe I’ll call Joe to see if he’d like to come too. I hate when books end.

> LCD Soundsystem - Trials and Tribulations

I feel dead inside. I’ve been reading that novel The Persian Boy all day long. And it’s almost 1 a.m. I promised Selena that we would hang out tonight, but I wish that I wouldn’t have. I want to talk to that one kid from MySpace but I don’t think we have anything in common. I think he thinks I’m cute. I don’t want to seem shallow, but my criteria for people to have repeated sexual relations with isn’t discernible in a picture. Oops, that turned into a dirty double entendre. What I mean is that I want my man to wow me with philosophy. Or even a knowledge of Bonzai trees. Fucking anything other than the endless stream of banality coming from the television.

Take the quiz: “What Marilyn Manson Band Member Are You?”

You are Tim Skold
You are Twiggy’s replacment you are dead sexy but will never live up to twiggy’s place.

I’m bored. I want to talk with someone who has an opinion about anything that matters. Politics…philosophy…anything. I guess I just miss my friends. I haven’t seen them in like weeks. I don’t know what to say. The whole story of the epic love affair in The Persian Boy has me all maudlin and mopey. I have a bunch of people on my buddy list that I don’t want to talk to. But it does give the illusion of having lots of friends. I know Jon doesn’t like me. I should delete him. Tara has nothing to talk about since she never does anything. I feel like attempting to talk to the guy from MySpace (Thomas). He must be interesting in some way. Everybody is, I hope. I’m so bored with my life. I’m so glad I’m moving soon. I need to call Joe.

I need to think of a reason to live that doesn’t involve vintage Macs and t-shirts on eBay.