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Another uneventful evening stroll to the gas station. What a haul: 1 can of Amp, 1 can of Sobe Adrenaline Rush, 2 cans of Monster Energy, 1 one liter bottle of Mountain Dew.
Take it away, caffeine!
I'm beginning to worry about how much I'm poisoning my body with this godawful stuff. I trust guarana, I trust ginseng, but what in the unholy hells is L-carnitine? Taurine? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I wouldn't consume half of this stuff if somebody at a club offered it; why drink it just because Pepsi-cola says it's safe? I remember giving up caffeine, back in the fifth grade. I'd become so severely dependant that I'd get sick if I didn't have it after a few days.
The headaches were awful, and I got really lethargic. I'd ended up drinking a cup of hot tea once a day at the most, though, and I was proud of myself. Until I found Red Bull. Now it's like I'm needingly plugged into some godawful addiction. And it's not going to get better, because I'm taking four Advanced Placement classes and an Honors class this year, so I'm gonna need the caffeine boost. But it's gone, after this year. I'm kicking the habit.
As soon as I finish this can of Amp.
This post was edited by Magnifico on Aug 06, 2003.
My house is quiet. It's 1:23 AM. Is that signifigant?
Quiet. . .
My summer's dying. I can feel it slipping away. It's been a curious combination of caffeine-induced hallucinations, Everclear, nag champa, and Evie. And pretentious, artsy journal posts. Because that's what I do. It's my thing. Damnit.
I'm sitting here, listening to my Existential mix playlist (a fusion of Tool, AFI, Linkin Park, and some other bands), pondering life most ponderously. I'm sitting here, suffering in the silence, pondering (an act of willful imagination) the slings and arrows of outrageous (mis)fortune. I'm sick and fucking tired of storms. And silence. I'm feeling empty inside again. . .
Dreamin' of that face again. . .
it's bright, and blue, and shimmering. . .
This post was edited by Magnifico on Feb 09, 2004.
My girlfriend isn't having a good week, it seems. I haven't talked to her much, but what little conversation we've had has been a combination of her being rather quiet and me failing to cheer her up. She won't tell me what's wrong, and I'm by no means perceptive enough to figure it out on my own.
I think I might be defective. . .
Awkward moments. Funny, though, that awkward is such an awkward. . . word.
The concert was great. Got some good, cheap music (five hours for three dollars). However, it wasn't the music I was really into. Got to go with Evie, but her friend's mom (who is actually unbelievably cool) was also there, which is a drag. I kinda felt like talking to Evie more than I got to.
I hate this stupid paranoia (my friend Ian says it's probably standard in all love and love-related situations) that maybe she was joking when she revealed her feelings for me, or that maybe it was her brother playing a cruel joke (the kid is a dick, apparently), or something like that.
Godawful feeling inside replacing that early bliss.
Whew. Tonight was fun. Went over to the Circuit Playhouse to watch a friend perform in "The Woman in Question," in which she had some pretty good lines ("I wouldn't play canasta with those goose-stepping lezzies"). Afterwards, we went over to Huey's (local's restaurant in Midtown Memphis, nice place), and then sped home because my ride was driving two hours after curfew with two other people on a restricted license. Much fun. Having gotten out of the car and walked in, I quickly remembered my shirt (I had worn a button-up shirt over a t-shirt, tucked into some gigantic pants: think of it as a mixed message in clothing) was in his car. Running out to stop him, I went flying, and landed on my left side. I'm bleeding from both hands, my left knee, left shoulder, small toe and I think I broke my small toe.
Can't wait for tomorrow. I'm gonna spend oodles of my measly $100 paycheck at the Everclear concert tomorrow night.
Should be fun.
I've just undergone too much in the past two days. Yesterday morning, the proverbial shit hit the proverbial fan. What was a small storm cell in Arkansas exploded into something not unlike a river hurricane, blasting Memphis to shreds in some areas.
This came hours after Evie's declaration of certain feelings for me.
I was sitting in my dad's car, praying and shivering in fear. I was willing to accept that I would die that morning. The change in emotion was just too much.
I'm still shaking.
We've got power now, though.
If I don't see my stoney baby soon, I'm gonna explode. . .