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[22 Apr 2006|02:20pm] |
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music |
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Well Kevin has Nick Cave on. Blarg. |
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I need to make $1000 in less than 2 months. Yes, it has already been suggested if you're dreaming up sex-work as the solution. Not going to happen.
Jobs? Short spurts of work? Selling drugs? Wait, no- financial aid is what is going to put me through college and I can't risk getting caught.
Dammit. P.S. Stacy- I'm going to rescue you at the nearest available moment.
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| When can it be over? |
[20 Apr 2006|01:35pm] |
It would be really cool if I had a proper resource to bounce this all off of, but instead I am floundering amongst friends with advice that is only to make me hope and the root of the "trouble" which only hurts things because it is biased and can only really feel the emotions of one side of it.
I can't help anything. I am out of control. I am frustrated. I am jealous of the air that he uses to live. I'm not necessary. My love means nothing. I'd say it was a wasted effort, but there isn't any effort to account for. I'm not trying to persist. My heart is foisting it on me and am so fucking tired of crying about it.
I don't need affirmation. I don't need to be thought of as "something." I retardedly got that and found that it was exactly what I didn't need. Someimes I wish I wasn't so weirded out by human contact that doesn't mean anything. I wish that I wasn't so conflicted about it at all. But that wouldn't actually help matters anyways. Beacuse it's not what I want or need.
What I want is to not be wasting love and then by figuring out that it is just going into space- be able to abandon it. But I JUST FUCKING CANNOT. I AM NOT ALLOWED IT. MY MIND IS FUCKING WITH ME AND I WANT TO EXPLODE and get tiny fragemts of it on every surface in the vacinity and not be able to piece it back together AND JUST FORGET. ERASE. BE DONE.
I'm just so exhausted by everything.
I hate existing if it is for nothing.
Post: I don't need him to exist, he is NOT my reason. I hope nobody, includng myself, got that impression.
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[18 Apr 2006|06:30pm] |
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I don't fucking know. tenitis. |
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WEll, to say the least, I'm not doing mushrooms anytime in the immediate future. Holy Jesus.
Bellingham show, BUST. It was okay, but it sounded like shitt and I picked a needless fight with someone who came specifically to see us because myspace.
Ugh. Convaluded sense of existence. My mind is definitely floating elsewhere besides in my skull.
BAMF.
Why am I even posting? This is insane.
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| Short synopses. |
[07 Apr 2006|11:50am] |
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mood |
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 Pffffft |
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music |
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My own stuff. Recording is a saucy bitch |
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A few things. . .
A.) Working at Evergreen is so fucking plush.
B.) I wish I could keep this job forever
C.) My heart is creating a ruckus that I thought it had since abandoned. Relapse.
D.) I'm still living and doing fairly well.
E.) I get to confront my deep, dark racism that is actually there because of my whole life spent with honkies.
F.) You're a gimp.
G.) SO MUCH MONEY WILL. . .cover my bills. . .
H.) Playing shows NOT IN OLYMPIA. (if you care, check the myspace)
I.) Recording for new demo . . .totally sucks (especially when you're as self-deprecating as I am)
J.)It's getting warmer here and I am so unbelieveably stoked considering how cold my existence has been as of late
K.)Science fiction is better than the Baby-Sitters Club, as I placed a moretroeum (sp?)on myself from the latter until I move to San Diego. (But all of you willing to part with your old collection, by all means. . .ME. MINE.)
L.) My hair is actually white now I am fairly satisfied with that, although the cut has GOT TO GO.
M.) I am still deeply in Love and that gets harder and harder everyday...
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[20 Mar 2006|09:35pm] |
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mood |
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Heart-whrenchingly awful |
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Depeche Mode-All of Violator. |
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So you know how there are cars and trains and birds and grubs and Paris Hilton and pokemon in the world?
Well, not anymore. The world exploded, the apocolypse smashed open a void in the universe and none of the aformentioned exist.
And neither do I.
It all started with a 5 word question and a blank stare that means, "duh."
The answer to the riddle is: "You're breaking up with me?"
Yup, SMASH CRASH FWOOM. PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRR.
Kevin broke up with me. I've been screaming since last Wednesday. My face has crevices where the tears have been turning up at every corner. I'm about 30% less water now. I'm crushed. Devistated. Barely dealing with my mundane life.
Two positive things:
1.)We played an incredible show on Saturday. Emotion. Cry faces. Basically I was bursting at the seems with anxiety, depravity and gooey build-up.
2.)the amount of food realted doting. I really appreciate what everyone has done for me. Kendra's talks (screaming does help, but perptuates the propensity I already have for migraines); LaurieLea's incessant material possession compensation; Pat's. . . everything.
Everyones' efforts are life affirming at the least.
When the world built itself back up and we finished catching up with the evolution process that has brought us back to our current mess of existence, I got a fish. I needed something to love me. Rambo Butler the Betta. Amazing.
HOLD ON. THIS IS SO FUCKING RATIONAL. It's a good thing I don't have access to the interweb infomatrix all the time, otherwise this would have been crude and full of angry hope, hope, hopes.
So in that vein, here I go.
HOW DO YOU JUST FUCKING FALL OUT OF LOVE WITH SOMEONE ONE DAY. NO WARNING. "No, I don't love you anymore," was the answer. WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK??????????
I feel useless, awful and really pathetically gullible.
What if I had stopped my diet of only Baby-sitter's club books, or tried to be a little more responsible about finding a job, or the band for that matter?
What if I wasn't crying so much already? What if I dealt with my depression in a not counterproductive fashion? What if? What if? What the fucking IF?
I just keep hoping that I'll wake up and he'll be there, smile puffily at me like he does in the morning and say, "I love you," and evrything will work out.
But in the meantime, I am horny, depressed and so very alone.
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| Why am I so not employable? |
[22 Feb 2006|04:47pm] |
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mood |
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 Useless |
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music |
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Some song off of the Flexi-Pop comp. |
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Omigod, I need a fucking job.
No more ice cream, no more telemarketing scam jobs.
Desire Video won't hire me, nor any screenpritning places, nor fucking SPSCC.
Where do I go from here, I'm underqualified for everything.
FUCK.
P.S. This is what you get when you search 'fuck'on google. . .
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| Night, Sleep, Dreams |
[18 Jan 2006|02:51pm] |
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 To capacity w/ oatmeal |
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Kas Product or something, I don't know. . . |
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Last to nights worth of dreams:
A.)Tried to kill myself by robo-frying and od'ing on pills. Freaked out when I tried to look at myself naked in the mirror and everything was all squidgy, someone walked in on eme and I was thinking," How am I going to take a shower? How am I going to drive to work? Then I was scared of dying and woke up.
B.) I rode the REAL greyhound and I could communicate with the dog telepathically and I had to let it on my back at some points (fair enough, right?) and Siousxie Sioux is good friends with Kendra and Laurie Lea and she has a "Magical" table dog. It was an end table with fur or an end-table shaped Dog. This all occured in the downstairs of my Grandparent's old house that I practically grew up in.
C.) More nights ago Kevin tried to grope me in his sleep. Not creepy, kind of cute, but more funny than anything else.
Two nights ago, I was reading with the lights on, went to turn them off and the heater and he muttered a question of what I was doing and I smartly replied,"I'm going to go jump out the window," to which he responded with, "no, you can just float down. . ." Totally in his sleep.
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| EXISTENTIAL FREAK-OUT! HOORAY! |
[11 Jan 2006|01:41pm] |
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mood |
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 Wildly so. |
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Oh, the gay science, oh, oh. |
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Obviously I mean it, just look at that use of exclamation marks.
Okay, so is it really worth it? At all? I'm not saying what I really feel, not working hard enough for it to actually be my baby. Pat seems to be indiffernt to the whole operation. Something has to give.
I think I may be getting fired. My hours are dwindling because of my need for days off. HEY, I can't help being fucking sick. And I'm, sorry that playing stupid shows that nobody gives one tenth of a shitt about is more important than slinging ice-cream in to the faces of shitty children.
My room is in tatters, my clothes all can each individually eat one dick, and I don't want to to talk to ANYBODY.
So I visited my my old house ( the one on 9th) and there was a terrible party there because retarded Evergreen kids moved in. The floors are all parkay (that's a non-butter brand, mind-you, I can't spell the fake wood floor substance), the walls are all white and it all looked moderately clean- aside from the filth of the utterly awful party that was going on. I just kept stamping on the floor with my arms in the air screching about how thsi was MY old house and then ashed on everything I could and stole a picture of Chairman Mao.
P.S. Shark is "Brandon" and sucks to ver, very much. Wamh-Wamh.
Punk Rock has desintigrated into awkward bullshitt.
I have to go read now.
I am an idiot. I am undereducated and that is my own fault. I try to not learn but leech onto others' knowledge. I am not articulate. I am stupid. I am not my own real person. I place immediate attention on trivial things and matters and that is fucking annoying. I am annoying. I am under-confident and put on a bad show. Insecurity running amok. I hate me.
Okay, that's all out. I feel. . . .better? No.
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[24 Dec 2005|04:52pm] |
1.) At airport for approx. 8 hours
2.) In Sandy Eggo
3.) Half my head is red
4.) I feel disgusting
5.) Being in a band is weird
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| I'm bleeding depravity out of my eyes. |
[17 Oct 2005|11:52am] |
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mood |
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 What's wrong with me? |
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music |
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Senor Ant and his Coconut Orchestra. |
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HOLY SHIT.
Like biblical and everything. The world has such a nasty rift in it right now and I can't possibly explain how wrong everything feels.
But it all seems like it's in place. That's the quandry. How can the puzzle be together, but the picture is so fucked up?
I'm so confused about how uncomfortable I have become in my own skin and looking at all the other glistening skins around me.
The door opens and a spiny snake jumps out at a high speed trajectory and muffles my last cries of protest. Every door has said snake lurking behind it. The answer: Open no doors and death will not ensue.
Problem: No doors opening means no prgress. I just have to stay in the one room and sulk.
My stomache feels wretched with the vividness of how lost I am.
The brick wall was erected, sturdy and strong, every piece in place but me.
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[13 Oct 2005|12:30pm] |
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 Void. |
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Nothing but Adam, Adam, Adam. |
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I really don't have anything interesting to say, so if you're looking for anything of substance scroll past this one...
So, I'm 20. No longer am I a bratty teenager in the pool of oldlings. I'm now a bratty oldling.
There is truly a rift in the universe right now. Nothing fits, nothing feels correct. I have to wear khakis to work. I have to see everyone from my past blink onto my radar because the ice cream hole is in a strategic vortex in the mall. I wish I was in the corner so I could watch people from afar, but not have them notice me.
9th noselbeed happened a couple of days ago. Really exciting stuff. When it hits ten I am celebrating by cauterizing my inner nostril.
Life is so full of activity, yet so fucking boring. I am involved with two musical projects right now (and it's supposed to be three) and being that I'm the voice of each, it's important to be clear and know all the goddamn words.
I'm working everyday until next Wednesday and believe me, if you thought that a job where you just stand around and not do anything is the life, pfffft, you've never done it. I am almost finished with a book due to the slow business of this period. Ugh.
It feels like the 80's working there, except my pants aren't nearly high enough. But I do wear large earings but my hair hasn't reached the standard 2 feet.
God, this is so mundane and boring. When did my life stop existing? I'm am going to keel over and have death engulf me due to lack of stimulus.
Watching Sixteen Candles everyday, sometimes TWICE is seriously unheathy.
Actually I think this ^ is unheathy. Eww. Age.
OMG, I HATE EVERYTHING. I'm actaully too bored to feel that strongly about anything right now. I'm just apathetic and this stagnance is dangerous because it leads right up to the fron doorstep of deep depression. Introspective time where I am bored and therefore boring and therefore self-loathing.
God.
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[06 Oct 2005|11:41am] |
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mood |
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 As always. |
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Our own music, it is happening. . . |
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Why is Jeromy Space Battleship Yamato still haunting my life? Only the fucked-up forces that drive him to know for sure. When I stopped talking to him, it was because I didn't want to deal with his whiny drama-laden life anymore. CHRIST. Now he is with my ex's older sister and has to ooze his way back into existence. I will move away soon and can forget EVERYBODY that ever existed. (Mainly people I run into from high school and a few unpleasant post-moving from home assholes).
Anyway. I don't know if my 7th and 8th nosebleeds can be construed as such because they were just kind of discharges of blood. Like the one this morning that just added more gore to my already blood-stained white glovelets.
In my pocket I have a half-smoked cig-a-ma-rette and it reaks and I think is making the people near me uncomfortable. It is certainly too smelly for even me to deal with and I coat my lungs with the stuff.
I am putting a moretoreum on two things. Harboring bad feelings for people that don't even exist on the Keeley Spectrum (i.e. Jeromy Dipshit) because it just makes me put a lot of energy towards being vengeful at a ghost of a person whereas I could be displacing that eslewhere.
And the other is gorging myself on the free icecream at work. I feel gross. It's bad for me and I find that it's just out of boredom and I should probably fight the demons of over-eating compulsion.
The world seems to be turning far more rapidly than usual and I have about fifty projects to complete or do continual work on. The daunting notion of my 20th doth approach and I am afeared of what it will mean. I new year in existence. Holy shit. I vow to never grow up, but maturation is different. I can be a complete human being without being an "adult" aside from chronologically and physically.
Enough bullshitt, Sean will be here and it will be good. I decree it so.
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[03 Oct 2005|04:44pm] |
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mood |
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Duh, what? |
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Batman Returns background music. |
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Nathan has been plastering this all over this site:
I'm not sure what to make of it. Masterbation fodder? Surely not.
I went to ye olde food bank today and I believe that I hyperextended my arms/neck on the walk home with generously filled bags of free food to gorge myself on. FREE.
Today is the Kaffrin's 20th birfday. For(r*81)est mistakenly called to wish me a good one. Not 'til Sunday, suckers.
I feel like a 30 year-old burn-out. Like I already went to college, got some bullshitt degree after wasting my time there on dope, and now have a j-o-b at the mall and do nothing with my spare time. Sure, sure, you say,
"but Keeley, I thought you were in a band."
To which I reply,
"Yeah, but we only meet like once, maybe twice a week and I just sing a little and don't participate with any other stuff because I am scared of learning."
"Well, that's something, now isn't it?"
"Define something."
I will mean something someday.
P.S. As of last night SIX NOSEBLEEDS
Kind of like this, but I'll bet this asshole got punched for being an uber-chode falcon and I just have a mysterious and nebulous problem.
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| Week from Sunday will either prove awful, or better than the last few & won't have to be called off |
[30 Sep 2005|03:29pm] |
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mood |
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 Too much la smoka |
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music |
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If ever boring and predictable: Adam and the Ants |
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Good news:
My boss called and said that he wnats to make sure I get at least 35 hours a week at workington and that during the holiday season coming atcha' in 6 weeks
I will be working 40-fucking-+...Dude, way awesome.
Bad news:
Depression still lingers, holding my neck in a mock-strangle, whispering in my ear sweet nothings about how miserable life is and all the failures I have to anticpate. What a swell character. Going to sleep is a challenge as my mind races like a tweeker gerbil in one of those wheels, displleing all hope for the future.
+
=
Oh, and UPDATE on the medical predicaments of one Keeley Dean Nova:
This morning brought on the 5th nosebleed in 3 days and one has to wonder, "Duh-what?"
I have far too much shaving cream in my hair and it is of the variety that reeks of pre-pubescent boy attempting to whoo the ladies with his faux "clean-close-shave" and of middle-aged men going through a midlife crisis attempting to whoo the ladies. Point: "Smell bad."
I, at least look spledid today in my EGL best. Oh, and I had a very good converstaion with a Sir Big'n'Tall about American Psycho and the Columbine Massacre. Talking at great length and detail about all aspects of both. Very refreshing from the seemingly vapid chats I have with everyone else, or the ones that are me listing like the apt pupil, and feeling inferior. Such is life. Bley-la.
P.S. This is what Aushen's myspace holds:
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| It may seem superficial, but it's all I have and it's important to me. |
[23 Sep 2005|03:47pm] |
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music |
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Adam and the Ants, duh. |
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It's days like this week that I wished that I had gone to college and some rich relative would've bought me a digital camera. The creativity in my outfits honestly needed to be documented this week and now the make-up has long since been washed away and the clothes detangled from glamour and have been put away into mundane obscurity in my "closet."
Maybe it's the new room and the atmosphere as been making the juices of creativity spurt out everywhere and drench me physically. Seriously though. I can't describe them, and now you'll never see them. 'Tis a shame.
I bought black ankle boots with a kitten heal and fake button-up front. I am in heaven aside from the unfortunate blisters that are associated with rad shoes.
PLUS, I get to be Adam Ant for Night of the Living Cover Bands at OFS. Kevin, Chris, Heather and HAyes and I are them for a night.
I alos have been asked to sing on a Manowar tribute album with Rueben's new band. Fucking strange.
I am so bored all day. Kevin works/goes to school and now with my hours cut and little excuses to make so I won't have to find a second job, what's a fabulously dressed girl to do?
P.S. Not eating and having the pukey-illness that I do, I have lost a noticible amount of weight and I feel disgusting to be happy about it. Maybe it was all that time in school when I was called fat and ugly. Hmmm. I finally am within the realms of having an acceptable body and now I am caught in a catch 22. Go against my morals and be excited, or say fuck everyone and be scared?
Maybe this is why I just want to be ugly. The clothes, the frighteningly loud make-up. . .although the scared girl lost routine is a deterent, I wish I wasn't so terrified of the world.
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[15 Sep 2005|02:33pm] |
Not all of us are holier-than-thou good typists/spellers.
But in NO way am I defending Jeromy's lack of ability, not-quite-perfection and totally retarded-ness are different.
I am getting my hours cut and I now cry.
I have to pay $250 to Stevenson,Washington, but miraculously they overlokked my warrant and the fact that I am of 19 years. Stoooooopid.
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| Yes. Yes. Thank-you. |
[09 Sep 2005|01:50pm] |
I revoke the last entry, but I am leaving it for posterity and because if anyone can find another means of obtaining said videos, I'd be much obliged.
Plus I need a complete list of ther movies to be able to figure out which ones to aquire.
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scrillazilla's journal
JESUS MAKE IT STOP
hungry
I hate cold
