Austen

i thought that you were joking when you said you couldn't breathe

2004-07-27T23:13:18Z

i'm sorry i'm a lame little boy and never update this thing, but everytime that i do get in the mood to do so, everything that comes to mind doesn't seem interesting enough to write down. no big deal though, i guess. besides, people only use these things to make fun of people under "anonymous". spent a lot of time at the school today. or should i say, wasted a lot of time. don't ask me why i do the things i do. trust me, i don't know.

despite the level of gay this day has reached, i'm in a damn fine mood. i feel like throwing beer bottles. had another boys night out last night. wes taught us a cool little trick to do with salt shakers and quarters. but first, we sang songs and i pretty much just threw myself all over the back seat of lance's car. went to gerard for a couple of minutes, but we didn't stay long due to an emergency beyond our control.

tomorrow will be just like today, i'm sure...except by this time i'll be at work. so...even...better? later.

STRIKE ME DOWN. HALLELUJAH.

to my mistress, the bridge

2004-07-21T21:23:21Z

I feel like I've been shot out of the womb all over again.

The Motion is getting a face-lift.

I cut my hair.

I cut my hand.

I love you all.

xoxo.

Have a good one.

P.S.

Double-D is in love with Lance.

there's music playing but we dance to the beat of our own black hearts

2004-07-12T16:12:43Z

so i had this really great idea, or it seemed really great at the time. long story short, it blew up in my face. pissed off a guy on the phone at work yesterday. it wasn't my fault i couldn't stop laughing. heard a loud noise outside my window, probably from the street last night. sounded like a black cat, but louder. so i looked out my window to find nothing, so i blamed it on the rapture and went back to sleep.

the interesting life i lead.

the way i feel right now is pretty much how a car crash looks...which doesn't say much for how i look at the moment either.

Contagious Dance Fever

2004-06-19T16:24:32Z

Lance is my therapist. The Motion is the support group.

i'll never make love in this town again...

2004-06-15T15:19:25Z

Boys:
Shoot to thrill from the hip
It's time we put the "act" in action
We've tricked these pigs into thinking that this auction is a pageant. In no time there will be makeup on our new set of cutlery. The livestock is dumb struck. They're all salivating like ravenous cartoons. Goddamn animal. You'd better watch where you spit.

Squeal like soft music. If it helps, we'll dim the lights on the floor. Neon bulbs are the cosmetics of swine. Everybody looks quite dazzling, dressed up in their formal attire. You'd make a great secret if I could keep you, but we all spill our guts.

We're locked and loaded,
Drip fed and bloated.

Our trigger fingers snagged in the mouse trap of the moment.
Turn the lights off on us, like a moth left in the cold. In the dark, begging for more. When the urgency strikes you, you'd better not lose your nerve. It's the rush that the cockroaches get at the end of the world. It's alright, It's alright. There's a pail by the bed if you need one, boy you're doing just fine. When in Rome we shall do as the Romans, when in Hell we do shots at the bar.

Last call, k-k-kill it
Last call, k-k-kill it
Last call, k-k-kill it
kill it, kill it.

We don't think in terms of morning afters and we don't utter a single word of the night before. In the meantime we're just thoughtless. Incessant buzzing apparatus. Disillusioned and lonelier than the last man standing. It doesn't get any better than, this so run like hell. So run like hell, so run like hell.

This is a rock and roll takeover,
living each day one night at a time.
There were mercy fucks, there was blood.
You should have been there by my side.
This is passion, this is red handed denial.
I have no lover and she hasn't the prettiest eyes.
Last call, k-k-kill it.

When 3 o'clock rolls around, the day is over.

2004-06-11T19:26:32Z

The air conditioner is always buzzing like the aftermath of a young boy's first cigarette. The birds are always singing on the window sills and my room is always over ninety degrees. Even when I'm clean I still feel filthy. Maybe its the job. Whenever I'm not at work, I'm here alone. I miss my brother.

Being on my own isn't how I thought it would be when I was younger. Even if my parents are here I'll be in my room by myself. I push them away when they try to have meaningless little conversations with me. You know, "we need to have a talk" conversations. Such beautiful bullshit. I want a wooden house with a spiral staircase and tall rows of book shelves. I want it to creak and swell when it rains. I want to have a room in the attic where I can look out a window and watch the rivers in the drainage ditches rise and fall. River side property. I want to find old photo albums in a basement and thumb through tattered black and white pictures of people I never knew. I want to visit a veteran and listen to him describe everything he has witnessed. I want to hear life lessons from people who have actually lived their lives. I want to be a part of someone's life. I want to be a page in a notebook, a photo in an old broken frame. I want to run away. I want to hear a dead person say everything will be alright.

I've never felt so filthy. I don't sleep anymore.

"Permission to take the kill, sir!"

2004-06-10T20:32:33Z

Yes, I drive like a grandmother, if you must know. Its none of your damn business anyway. I don't think my girlfriend is allowed to see me anymore. Who am I kidding, I can't do this. Or can I? A movie is always better after your tenth time of viewing it.

The birds outside my window never stop screaming. I'm thinking its about time I got all hostile in their little bird faces and showed them what I think of their precious little habitat. If you want to make an omlet, you've gotta break some eggs. My hair won't lie down and I still can't dance.

Its Austen...with an E. Yeah, you heard me.

2004-06-09T01:35:36Z

I cannot wait for Saved! to hit the theatres. Man, I'm pumped.

Thank you all who came out to the show. You will all have a special place in my black, bleeding heart. Moving on, god, I cannot wait for Saved! to come out.

So I was humming a song to myself earlier today, and I suddenly began to choke on my spit. Now, this is nothing new, but a surprise all the same. No, I do not feel like writing deep, poetic thoughts. If you don't like it, go to another journal. Go walk your dog. Color your hair. Read a book. I want to play another show, and we will goddamnit.

I'm buying a new drum kit, and you will all hail it as god.

Haven't slept in a while, it seems. It isn't really bothering me yet, but when I think about it, I really haven't been sleeping well all over again. Its like my brain hit a repeat button and now the vinyl in my head just won't stop spinning and oh my god that didn't make any sense. Run-on sentences are bad ass. Had a good ol' time with the fellas last night. I would go to war with them. They're my brothers.

Take that, rewind it back,
Lil' Jon got tha beat to make ya booty go...

clap.

you blow my mind like a colt 45 everytime

2004-06-04T17:02:51Z

i don't have anything anymore. not a fucking thing. so i'd just like to take this moment and reflect on what i used to have. wait, forget that. so pointless. rather, i will take this moment to thank dear old mom and dad for officially fucking up my life. yes, i know its very important that i do not end up like my brother. yes, i know its very important that i do not end up like my father because hey, look at how bitter and unsupportive he is. yes, i know he dropped out of college so its very important that i go. yes, i know your god has some kind of divine plan for me, and i can only hope that its a car crash of some sort. counseling? fuck you. i'm not the one who needs counseling here. all i wanted to do was be a normal little boy. fuck you and your phone calls and your speeches and your fucking little prayers. everyone is sick of hearing me talk about shit like this, and i'm tired of being pissed all the time. i do not have a damn thing anymore.

uh oh, our little boy is using profain language, that isn't what a little christian boy would do.

Never scream without a reason.

2004-05-28T17:06:35Z

I got today and tomorrow off of work. That's two days. Yep, that's right, no work for two days. Two whole days. Two of 'em. Yep.

Tried to make a good meal today out of noodles and butter, but I didn't cook the noodles long enough so it was like eating potato sticks with butter. Man, I'm awesome. Need to go buy a tie for graduation tonight. Shocker, I don't own a tie. Can't even tie a tie. Got a precious little chemical burn at work the other night. Tee hee.

Lazy as hell.

Two whooole days.

there's a pail by the bed if you need one

2004-04-30T21:17:39Z

christ, when is it going to rain? i want to swim on the curbs, and i can't very well do that if it doesn't rain. if you spray axe deoderant too close to your pit, it feels like it bursts into flame.

anyways, i'm really uncomfortable and i feel really strange but can't seem to figure out why. something is different...perhaps its just the weather...perhaps i've finally hit puberty. difficult to say at this point. when my voice starts cracking, i'll be sure to let you know. got my prom penguin suit yesterday. microplay is mecca. let's have ourselves an old fashioned exodus.

my dog is always asleep. sometimes, while he's sleeping he starts kicking at random. its funny. or other times, he'll wake up and look at me, then sneeze and go back to sleep. he's a good boy.

my deoderant never works and the crucifix is always upside-down.

a boy named sue

2004-04-12T23:37:09Z

it has gotten to the point where the only reason i write on this thing is to wait a few weeks and then come back and laugh at myself. i don't like writing about how my day went or things like that anymore. actually, i don't even know what i enjoy writing about. most of the time its just stuff that either: a) annoys me b) confuses me or c) annoys me. i should just start writing really "deep" poetry on this. cliche, yes, but it beats having to read the same style of stuff i'm wasting my time by writing right now. yes, i like run on sentences.

my hands are burning. i need to clip my fingernails. i need a haircut. i'm going to prom but i can't dance. that's the worst place for people who can't dance to go hang out...a dance. ironic. sometimes i feel so pathetic i could throw up. sometimes when i think of "lovey-dovey" things that have happened or "sweet" ways i've acted, i want to slap myself. seriously, i'm not very good at this whole boyfriend thing. it might just be because watching other people in relationships makes me sick. i'm an idiot.

get your hands off me

2004-04-08T21:42:08Z

i want to be alone, except i don't.

but i do.

but i don't.

i quit.

tonight we dance for tomorrow they release the dogs

2004-03-29T01:53:51Z

listening to girls talk about relationships makes me not want to be in one.

jesus, he don't want me for his sunbeam

2004-02-21T21:21:46Z

worked last night. got home late. didn't sleep. i have a saturday off and nothing to show for it, for i stand forbidden to leave. i'd try to sleep but if i did i'd wake up feeling disappointed. i'd leave the computer but if i did i wouldn't know where to go.

goddamn obligations. the throat of the day is officially slit. what a waste.

Drown us at birth, save us some time

2004-02-10T18:00:57Z

Ending lives for a handful of soil, under closed caskets and trifolded flags. Where we crawl through trench warfare, tossing our dead in the cracks. The same places our grandfathers once bled. Erect a monument to push toward perfection.

I've got your poetry on vinyl and it's spinning like an alcoholic's grasp on life. I own your hopes and dreams, I am the reason you even get up in the morning. Conceited, self-absorbed and selfish. I'll take a fist to your fine china. This is me vomiting in your crystal sink. Imported furniture, what a twisted affair. I am not alright, but better off than you.

This morning I'm more alive than a newborn. Turn me upside-down, smile when I cry. You came out kicking and screaming, forgot to force yourself to stay inside. I'm driving southeast toward the mushroom cloud, picking at a fragment of skin hanging from my lip. But what a great shape and a healthy diet, and you're gagging yourself in empty parking lots. Take your turns in the mirror, count your calories. I'm fucking rolling in gluttony. Who's laughing now?

Deeply in touch with a side of light I hoped to never feel. A hideous, ever-increasing warmth coiled around my skin. Who am I to feel its comfort? Somewhere within endless lines of unspoken thought is a distance of many miles. Moons away from salvation, we pushed our shovels into soil, stained with the blood of men we never knew. Children without fathers. Stand, salute, pledge. The tile floor is smeared with the embrace of my knuckles, and the water is always running. In these lines desperation will paint a smile across the throat of your hopeful expectations. Bled am I of my disease. This is how your life can end up.

A ship flying red sails becoming ever so small in the distance, this is your tomorrow. Crashing of waves against the bow, these are the hours. The tattered, eroded return, this is your evening. Man fucking overboard. With each day your vessel is wearing away. A reduction of every beach-side daydream of summer's past. Fall is coming. Sweat while you can, for one day you will shiver. The fact that you are still warm keeps you safe. The security of ignorance. The restraint of the unknown. Get out while you can. Look to this pathetic example of dust and breath.

From Adam's rib came a killer, walking the earth to this day. Its offspring keep us under spells of unseen potion. There is witchcraft in beauty. There is poison in perfection. A purple dawn is around the bend, save yourself. Don't take your foot off the gas. Close your eyes. Loving by night and sleeping by day, a stepping stone that leads to nowhere. What are our roles, who will you be today? A kiss of shrapnel on blackened lips. Blood of new and old, a fashionable mix. New York taxi and country lisp. Oh, to speak of such irony. Four-lined stanzas draped in grey. Lip-locked forgiveness, pointless apology. Oh, to speak of such plastic affection. Sugar-coated disappointments. Ink-stained life stories. Watered-down resentment, tell me to my face, as beaten as it may be. A crow at dusk will seal your fate. Tell yourself to hold fast to sleep, for opened eyes will not set you free. You are Mother Nature's slave. A beating heart's servant. Fight your eyes, force yourself to stay awake. This is your focus, stay hushed and create. What have we to live for but death?

The equation led us to a confusion of familiar emotion. Wooden floors creaked a most beautiful arrangement. The composer, blistered and wrappped in rubber coating, bleeding with each step. Weighted chains hung with vain tension, swaying to the rhythm of the silence. And again we whispered at the top of our lungs, as far as oxygen would allow. Heat-stained car seats, the imported leather you paid extra for, the same one I just destroyed with a head-on collision. The polycarbon windshield you preferred, the same one I just took a voyage through head-first. The sweat-stained T-shirts of the youth, lost among the rubble of your fashionable laundry basket. Ruins of popular department stores. Repeat your name as you stare into the mirror. Lies will give you security, truth will tear you to shreds, so close your eyes and tell me I'm fine. You're so in-season. You're so damn modern. Fashionably dead.

You know how we do.

"if you're ever in a mall and they start to play the 'blue danube waltz', get the hell out"

2004-01-21T03:07:04Z

What is there left to say but goodbye? Farewell to every little potential what-if, an executioner’s dream. I met you on a night when I wasn’t feeling quite myself, inches away from my next fist full of champagne. I lost my cute little buzz a long time ago. It’s not much of a party if everyone knows its going to occur every night. At a mere twenty-five miles per hour I evacuated my soul. Waved goodbye from the top of every damp cloud you gazed at from the site of my burial. Stay with me. Sing to me one more time.

The night was a lullaby in the throat of an expecting mother. Her steps were carefully placed and the music was an atomic bomb to my ears.

Melting flesh in the key of E.
Horrific screams in 6/8.
Makeshift graves at a moderate tempo.

One in front of the other.

"i wanted to put a bullet between the eyes of every panda that wouldn't screw to save its species"

2004-01-14T02:01:33Z

i'm convinced no one reads this anymore, so now i feel even more comfortable with being as random as i see fit. random random. god, people piss me off. i hate people. did you see how random that was? yeah, that's right. vanilla coke tastes weird when you drink it with frozen grapes. after hours of exposure to public education, that is all i have allowed myself to learn today. that's it. attention brain cells, the mind will be closing shortly. please make your way to the nearest exit.

for some reason i decided to read journals tonight. all ive gathered from putting it all together is that we have all taught ourselves to be entertained by things which normally wouldn't interest us, based on the circumstances of course. yet, when you put all the girl's entries together, all i can get is "i'm way too emotional and i think men are scum but i'm still going to whine because i can't get a boyfriend, love love love, i love the color pink." how hideously cute.

everyone's so wrapped up in their little soap operas that we've forgotten how old we are and how much we still don't know. i swear, i'm not pissed off all the time. just saying that because i know how much people enjoy looking up people's journals just to post judgemental nonsense under the name "anonymous." anyways, chances are my computer's going to erase all of this when i click on the submit button, so here goes. have a pleasant evening and drink your milk.

i will die screaming

2003-12-30T22:16:14Z

what a day. see, i can say that because now all i have left to do is eat dinner and go to work. so, my day is over. got up earlier than i thought i would. had a hard time last night, don't ask. went to josh's. we've got this whole music thing down to a science. fertilized josh's grass with my vomit for a little while. that was interesting.

got home about an hour ago. shaking with cold. puking is the best thing ever when its all over. i could run a marathon. gotta work late tonight. tomorrow night too, i think. i just really want this weekend off. just saturday. all i want is saturday. emma's still in cameron rockin' and rollin' with the kids. from what she's told me, she's had an interesting day too.

well, i've got better things to do than sit here typing. you know, guitar and tv and uh, maybe a book. have a good one.

You have to be the cutest grave digger I've ever seen.

2003-12-30T01:51:17Z

its been twenty days. twenty long days. christmas is over. now everyone can go back to being selfish and rude. its a funny thing, that christmas. as long as there's a big tree in everyone's living room, the homeless need to be fed. kids need to be sheltered and everyone's showering the salvation army in pre-wrapped toys and canned goods. when it's over, you see those same christmas trees thrown on the side of the highway. burning in a country field. that's just the way things go.

been working more than i ever thought i would before i got a job. went to cameron with emma last weekend. good times, good times. its around this time every christmas break that i start feeling really down, you know, because the break itself is winding down and i get to go back to school to find out how much of a disappointment i am.

my day off is gone. my room looks like its been hit by a wrecking ball. we're missing so many things life has to offer. so many regrets. i'm sixteen, and i've never felt so useless. happy holidays.

Well the weather outside is frightful

2003-12-09T23:28:02Z

Freezing my ass off. Up real late last night. I think I'm going to start rotating the stuff in my room around every couple of weeks or so. I've found that I sleep better that way. Don't ask why. The only light in the room is coming from an old extendable lamp sitting on the desk. The room looks really gloomy. Yeah, Santa Claus is coming to town.

Have you ever thought about what it would be like to break every bone in your body at once? How horrifying would that be? Imagine the sound it would make right before you hit the ground. Jesus. It seems that someone finally dusted this desk off. And it wasn't me.

Now the lamp is flickering a little. Thought my car was fixed and now its screwing up again, and being the shitty mechanic that I am, I don't know how to fix it. I'm trying to enjoy today because I already know tomorrow won't be real great. I've come to the conclusion that I need something. And I think I know what that something is.

Well, Scott was right. Life sucks, and then you die.

This crucifix is my four leaf clover.

2003-12-03T00:32:27Z

Today, today. To hell with today, let's discuss yesterday. Aw hell, you don't care. You have your own life. Don't bother to read this, go do something more productive. I'm sure your favorite movie is on right now. You're missing it. Go read a book, go call a friend. Call someone you haven't spoken to in a while. Jesus, I'm such a dipshit.

A long time ago, someone told me that you won't solve anything by writing about it in an online journal. Best advice I've been given in a long time. School becomes more of a ball and chain everyday. I've gotten into a bad habit of imagining what it would be like to jump off the second floor railing (and I still say I could make it to my feet afterwards). Jesus, I'm such a downer.

Had a job interview today. Failed two tests recently. Ever felt like a worthless little shit? Region is pointless. Haven't look at the music much. Feel a little sick. Yes, I'm focusing on the negative and its my journal. Leave me alone. I've got deoderant on my shirt and my hand is throbbing and I don't know why. Got a lot of homework to do. Jesus, I'm such a schmuck.

Completely forgot to bring money for the whole Angels thing at school, which makes me a huge asshole. Or at least, I feel like one. Its Tuesday night and the week has already been sent straight to hell. The train to happiness pulled out a long time ago and I'm standing alone without a ticket. I hope you all had a great day.

"His last words to mother were: 'I feel awful'."

2003-11-26T20:55:35Z

Yeah, so I'm wearing this goofy ass hat and I'm freezing. Should be cleaning but its my room and I have every right to trash it. Its my room. Therefore, it is trashed. My dog has been outside for the past hour or so sniffing old piles of his own dung and barking at birds or something.

There have been trips down the hall, across the hall, and back down the hall again. The morning commute consisted of my room to the computer, to the kitchen, and back to the room. I'm wondering how long this lamp will last before the bulb goes out. There are pencil shavings all over the desk from the opened sharpener and a dusty phone book on the floor. Looks like someone was going to make a call but decided to not bother...five or six years ago. The left speaker of the computer keeps cutting in and out and makes a static noise when I mess with the volume. Its dying, and its all my fault.

Broke a string on the guitar, haven't cleaned anything, left my dog out back to mingle with his own dung. Worked on a bass drum pedal and it fell apart again right as I thought it was fixed. So I gave up. Drank some disgusting chocolate milk. My hands are healed up. Feels good to be able to pick things up again without bleeding. The phone has rang once today. It was my mom. Hung out with Adam yesterday after school. Got my car fixed.

A few seconds ago it was ten o'clock.

What the hell happened?

"She broke my heart" is so played out.

2003-11-21T00:02:52Z

Tonight all over this world thousands will fall to their knees, clasping their hands together, shutting their eyes. Please bless mommy, daddy, grandma, and aunt so and so. They say children make the best Christians, but no one ever tells why that's true.

Gullable, blind, fascinated.

If they were born with a mind of their own, maybe religion wouldn't be so cute anymore...because hey, its cute for a little kid to pray isn't it? We put pictures of them with their hands clasped on Christmas ornaments, baby shower cards, and get well soon notes.

From the mouth of babes, they say.

Perhaps spiritual growth is more of a wrecking ball than we all thought. You can't pray a lie, they always said, you can't pray a lie. Perhaps children shouldn't hear that god is good. Maybe they should hear Satan was an angel once. Instead of asking "Who wants to go to heaven" maybe they should hear "Do you want to go straight to the depths of hell?". If hell is so real, why don't you tell them that? Scare the shit out of them, that's what you want isn't it? You want your kids to be god fearing church leaders don't you? Well go ahead, scare the living shit out of them, its the right thing to do. Tell them who the devil is, tell them the truth. Hold your crucifix in the air and scream scripture at the top of your lungs.

The fear of god, yeah, that's what these kids need isn't it?

You can't pray a lie, you see, you just can't.

Wouldn't be right.

Stealing the king's plunder.

2003-11-04T22:51:52Z

How would you like to be remembered? Personally, I'd like to be something more than the red stain glimmering against the pavement under a dim, October sun. It doesn't matter what everyone thinks of you while you're alive, because everyone suddenly loves you when you're dead. They limp slowly into your funeral, stares burning a hole in the floor. They get on stage one by one and between tears, talk about how you'll always be remembered, and how your best quality was your up-lifting sense of humor. Then someone tells funny stories about little jokes you might've made or they'll read a little poem about you and everyone will smile with tear-stained lips and for a moment, act like everything's alright again. People hug each other and send your family vases of flowers and dishes of food covered with tin foil. Suddenly you are the most popular person on earth. You are the center of attention, the focus of the spotlight, the front page of the local newspaper. And you certainly WERE the smartest, funniest, most clever, most likely to succeed person on the face of the planet.

A couple of plates of shrimp later at the after-funeral lunch, and they're not talking about you anymore. Everyone is scattered throughout a room that smells like potato salad and roasted chicken, discussing how much the kids have grown.

Did you see the game last night?
We just got back from the lovliest cruise.
Let grandma have a look at you, honey.

So is the act over? Was that it? Little kids are trying to avoid the kisses of their aunt with too much make-up and whom they've never met before. They hide behind the dresses of their mothers. Oh, I remember when you used to be in diapers. Bullshit, where's your parade? Where are the mourners dressed in black, screaming and beating themselves? Where's the playing of Taps, where is the twenty-one gun salute?

Suddenly, you don't know if this is a funeral or a wedding. The corpse didn't see a ring, did it? The corpse didn't hear Here Comes The Bride as they opened the casket did it? Suddenly everyone is wondering why they don't call them coffins anymore, they're caskets now. What the hell is the difference, we've got tears to shed here.

So how would you like to be remembered?