Whoops, I forgot to update. But it must be quick; my mother desires my prescence downstairs for cookie-making.

Yesterday, despite an unfortunate bout of heat exhaustion Larkin had, we went out in search of Phil's house, in that hellish construction yard that is Memorial Northwest. About an hour and a half and we finally got around all the one-way streets, bulldozers, and giant tiger traps to Phil's place, for a quick swim and visit with, well, almost nobody I've ever met before. But Phil and Julia were there. I had a nice time, but as previous updates show, I am no fan of the ever popular Halo, and had seen two out of three movies being shown, so Larkin and I made a graceful exit before I had to see another Capture the Flag match. Thank you dear, for chauffering me around in the Houston sun.

After a rest at my place (Larkin had become a little dizzy and still wasn't sweating), the two of us decided to go back to her house to teach me to play DDR. Despite the good idea, I'm not terribly coordinated, and upon Larkin's request on the location of the dance pads, a somewhat ridiculous sisterly brawl took place. I would've sat it out in the kitchen (I was having fun cleaning the stove and whatnot), but when one hears his girlfriend getting hit, he really can't sit around. I could've extracted the hostility from the air and cooked with it. Ah, hellfires. I was up late thinking about it. I don't get mad at anyone from this sort of thing, but I can't take sides in silly arguments like this. Stupid technicalities are just flung back and forth. "Open palm is not a punch, love." I'm terribly sorry, but a person who's just struck her own sister should NOT BE FUCKING TECHNICAL. Anyhow, it's not worth brooding over. I'd prefer to forget the whole thing, and besides, when I consider what a wonderful creature Larkin is, if all I have to deal with to be with her is a silly family feud once in awhile, I'll never meet a more low-maintenance girl.

So, right! I need to go make cookies!

Bashing Mechanics With Freon Canisters

Ahoy! The air conditioning in Larkin's van hasn't worked for years. In Texas, it's a bit of a bitch- stuck in the middle of an intersection (or a train track) on 1960 with the windows open and no cool air blowing at you is certainly an agitating experience. Until now, the subject of repair has been undiscussed- Larkin's father, not wanting to spend money to save a few passengers from heat stroke, claims that such a surgery under the hood of the flaming van will cost a small fortune. Well, my Just For Men-treated, mustached parental friend, a word from one with regulated blood sugar- mechanics like fucking with people. Imagine yourself an employee in an air conditioning shop. A cute little teenager with cat ears, a miniskirt, and a troublesome '93 Ford Aerostar van drives into your shop, asking for an estimate. Upon inspection, you find a tiny crack in a valve and a jammed switch; an operation anyone's housecat could repair. Are you going to replace a rubber O-ring and pop out a plastic knob with a screwdriver for 30 dollars, or try to rip the poor, unaware highschooler off for 1200 smackers for a completely new system? If auto repair were an honest business, it wouldn't make enough money to exist. My dear old dad, who's been relatively involved in the practice for the majority of his LIFETIME, reckons a new valve will fix the thing for five or six hundred. I trust the gray-haired gun enthusiast to steer Larkin in the right direction with the work on that thing.

And so, yesterday was a day of sushi and that movie Dumb & Dumberer. It was actually funny as hell... Upon viewing the previews, I thought it would suck ass. Superb imitation of Jim Carrey, by whoever the hell that was.

And today, Larkin took me out to Left-Handed Monkey and I bought some nylon skater pants. I really like the clothes I'm beginning to collect. I can be whatever subculture I want to be, really. Larkin and I are going to go out on more theme dates. I must say, we looked pretty kickass in all our gothiness yesterday. We got our picture taken at the mall! I cannot wait to see them.

Waiting now for Larkin to get online, so she can come over and show me yoga trickses. Ah, what fun I'm having! This is probably the last summer I'll be both out of summer school and unemployed, and I'm enjoying it so! I wake up at 1 PM every day, go out with Larkin, get lots of exercise, go to parties. It's amazing how she's changed my life, really. I get out every day now, very contrary to my previous lifestyle, that of, well, sitting around with computer games and chatrooms to occupy me! I'm addicted to doing stuff. Especially with her.

School will kick ass this year. I'm going to have so much work, and I'll actually be stressed out with homework for once, but I don't give a shit! I welcome something to be dedicated to! I've slacked off far too long, nearly ruined my grades due to stupid laziness and lack of any initiative whatsoever! I want to be like Larkin, and get some fucking things done. I've got something to work for now. I'll be motivated for once. And I've got something to relax me on the side.

Not only all that, I'll look AWESOME, what with the style Larkin's given me. I'm actually quite addicted to clothing and dressing up...

I Am

Which tarot card are you?

Alas, I am drained. I fell asleep for an hour or so with Larkin at my side, hand in hand. Seems I have an internal clock that'll wake me up when I need to send her home. My, what fun we had today! Rollerblading, and Starbucks, and running around in the backwoods. Ah. Another great day of summer. I instill fear into the hearts of coffee drinkers at Starbucks with my big long coat. I love you, Larkin. I'm going to sleep.

Sweet merciful smallpox-infested baby Jesus. It's 6:30 and I'm at Robert Newman's house, at a LAN party. I should probably sleep on the couch or something, but I'm afraid they'll pour curry in my hair or some shit. I can stay awake. I ate a bunch of ramen.

I'm sitting around in this kickass long black trenchcoat that Larkin bought me as an early birthday present- along with some sunglasses to replace my fucked up one, and a new messenger bag for when school starts. God! She spoils me so! I am dearly in love with Larkin. And not just because she gives great gifts. Can life get any better?

I actually won't mind getting back to school. I'm sort of looking forward to being in classes with people, (hopefully) being in Larkin's lunch, and singing in choir. I really hope I don't miss the damn region workshop. I'll be in Dallas on the tenth or something for my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary. I have to go to church with them. Ugh. I'm sure the fellowship of old baptist people will love me and my blue hair.

Moby - Porcelain

Go and listen to that.

I'm sitting around, waiting for Mr.Morris to come and get me to mow some lawns. He's supposed to need my help today. I want to go and make some money for pushing pieces of metal around. He got a new small mower too, so I imagine the drive on it will work, and it'll be easy as freakin pie. I want to buy one of those trenchcoats at army surplus.

I'm Not Dead

Well, I'm over my illness (save a cold sore on my lip and a few other little annoyances), and I'm out and about again, saving the world. Today, as I passed by a box of rollerblades my mum was selling on Ebay, a wave of nostalgia overtook me, and I wandered over to the hall closet to see if my own pair of skates still existed. Buried under about 200 totebags, umbrellas, and various pairs of boots, I found my pair of rollerblades, complete with size 8 boot and old worn-out wheels! Despite the small size, I fit into them quite snugly, having small feet for my gender and age, and proceeded to glide around the neighborhood for awhile.

Going back to my elementary school on rollerblades certainly brings back memories. Kevin Young, David Muzal and I used to play basketball on skates at the court behind Ehrhardt. Alas, the evil wrecking company bulldozed over a metric ton of my childhood, leaving a huge pile of concrete slab and dirt where once there was a nice, smooth surface for sportsplaying. Why the hell did they do that?

So, coming home, I played a bit of Counterstrike (the most unproductive thing EVER), replaced the wheels on the rollerblades with a set of 30 dollar 80A, 72mm wheels I found lying around, polished my new Schwinn Continental roadbike my parents found at a garage sale (it needs tires, tubes and a brake cable, but soon I will be like Lance fucking Armstrong), and read a bit of my brand new Satanic Bible.

Ah, Satanism. It seems to have always been my doctrine. One of the things Satan represents is Christianity's "seven deadly sins" (ex. lust, greed, pride). And you know why? Because every one of them leads to some form of pleasure! There's nothing wrong with lust! Lust is a religion in itself! What is greed besides wanting more stuff? The flesh isn't going to burn off your bones for eternity just for wanting some money. Being proud of yourself isn't going to invoke some holy wrath from above. Moral codes are bullshit. Ave Satanas! Join my dark grotto, fledgelings...

After another mile or two of rollerblading, I returned home to call Larkin and get myself out to Starbucks. I, the blue-haired khaki master, and Larkin, the cat-eared cutey sporting a new wig took the place (full of stoners and trendy, preppy people) by storm once again. Jeremy, Rob and Amy met up with us too. Much fun.

I feel good now that I'm not feverish and weak. I feel great. I cannot WAIT to fix up my new roadbike. I have long wanted to have something not nearly as cumbersome as a 21-speed mountain bike, complete with big chromali frame and rack. I shall glide across the pavement with the same type of bike as god himself!

Poetry.com has to have the greatest marketing scheme ever. They've sent me, like, five letters saying they want to publish my poetry in some anthology, record it onto CD, give me a big dumb trophy, etc. etc. Oh! And they want me to go to their conference in Washington, D.C.! Only 500.00$ registration! Damn them for trying to make me feel important! It's like that druggie movie where they say the old woman will be on TV! Is there more bullshit than that in anything in the world besides politics and organized religion?

In conclusion: TURTLE!