> Chromeo - Ah Oui Comme Ça

I just checked out the web site of that band Chromeo and it’s really cool! Their music videos suck, but the band’s biography really made me crack up:

Crossing the Gaza Strip of Sexxx Jams Chromeo is Pee Thug and Dave 1: best friends since their Montreal adolescence, virtuoso musicians, walking hip hop encyclopedias, and the only successful Arab/Jew partnership since the dawn of human culture.

Aside from that, I’m bored and I’ve done nothing but watch TV shows I’d already seen because I didn’t want to do anything else and I felt lonely when I was on the Internet. I even went to gay.com and surfed profiles. Today is just one of those days where your feet are cold and nothing can assuage it. Maybe I’ll put on a second pair of socks. Is that weird? What if I passed out, lost my short-term memory and woke up with two socks on? It would be a near-Philip K. Dick-esque event that would haunt me for the rest of my existence. Lol. I should buy more books. Oh! I had sort of an idea for a short story yesterday, and it seemed sort of good. Maybe I’ll think of it tonight.

I was hungry and ended up eating this 1,200 calorie bag of trail mix before I thought to read the nutrition label. Now I feel vaguely sick and I wish I would’ve done homework instead of watch television. It’s not like I even like television, I don’t. It just doesn’t require any effort and I can sit on the comfortable couch while I’m watching it. If I had a comfortable couch in my room facing a blank wall, I’d be there all day long.

For some reason I feel like I have to stay up until 2 a.m. on Friday nights to somehow prove to myself that I have a social life even though I’m not doing anything. It’s a depressing thing to wake up at 11 a.m. on Saturday with nothing to do. If I wake up at 5 p.m., at least I have an excuse for wasting the day.

I don’t know what brought it on, but I’m having a severe bout of loneliness. I would drown my sorrows in MySpace, but every time I log on I now see Misty’s new pictures. Apparently mine weren’t good enough, she had to have someone take pictures of her sitting in a Wal-Mart chair in some random person’s living room and then sepia tone them to make them look “artsy.” Fuck this town.

I was sort of experimenting with making a painting that wasn’t completely black, but the more that I look at it the more I realize that I won’t be satisfied unless it’s black. I shouldn’t paint when I’m in this mood.

The more I think about what I’m creating, the more I like my art. I think back to Taggart’s jejune creations and I realize that I can do so much better. After all, judging art is all subjective anyway. I will always love my paintings more than anybody’s because I will know why I painted them and what they mean perfectly. We can never be sure looking at someone else’s art whether they meant a certain symbol to mean one thing, but with my own art it’s like I’m reflected on the canvas. I know every brush stroke, symbol, etc.

I don’t know what I want to say. I want to say that I’m lonely, on a deserted cultural island, and I can’t relate to other people. I can only hate them for their flaws. And I can’t seem to find excuses to hang out with the people that I think are incredibly cool. Perhaps I should take a shower. Hm. That sounds like a good idea.