Slowly Going Bald
"Look, we're gonna spend half the night driving around the Hills looking for this one party, and you're gonna say it sucks, and we're all gonna leave and we're gonna go look for this other party. But all the parties and all the bars, they all suck. I spend half the night talking to some girl who's looking around the room to see if there's someone who's more important she should be talking to, and it's like I'm supposed to be all happy 'cause she's wearing a backpack."
Thursday, July 14, 2005
8 Comments:
I can't do that for too long or I'll die. My best was 11.
By 
Kyle, at
12:42 AM, July 15, 2005
Correction. Record inialated...enilated...innilated...I destroyed my previous record. 27 baby. Must...stop...
By Kyle, at
1:01 AM, July 15, 2005
27 is pretty amazing. I got to 13.
By Dan Carlson, at
8:11 AM, July 15, 2005
That's okay. You have an actual job to do.
By Dan Carlson, at
8:36 AM, July 15, 2005
My work blocked access. But I can safely assume I'd get about one, max.
By Chez, at
3:22 PM, July 15, 2005
I got like 2 but I don't like how when you miss one it starts over. Too hard. Me no like.
By Sarah, at
4:13 PM, July 15, 2005
Missing is unacceptable in the Netherlands. Who is picking up all of this trash? Why aren't we recycling...
I have been in Europe for too long
By Master Baron Von Tuckenstein the First Esquire, at
9:42 AM, July 18, 2005
Yeah, me being a jackass to the teacher. Ah, youth.
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...a stone, a leaf, an unfound door; of a stone, a leaf, a door. And of all the forgotten faces....
O waste of loss, in the hot mazes, lost, among bright stars on this most weary unbright cinder, lost! Remembering speechlessly we seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven, a stone, a leaf, an unfound door. Where? When?
O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again.
--Look Homeward, Angel
Conservatives are not necessarily stupid, but most stupid people are conservatives.
--John Stuart Mill
We have all read in scientific books, and indeed, in all romances, the story of the man who has forgotten his name. This man walks about the streets and can see and appreciate everything; only he cannot remember who he is. Well, every man is that man in the story. Every man has forgotten who he is. One may understand the cosmos, but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God; but thou shalt not know thyself. We are all under the same mental calamity; we have all forgotten our names. We have all forgotten what we really are. All that we call common sense and rationality and practicality and positivism only means that for certain dead levels of our life we forget that we have forgotten. All that we call spirit and art and ecstasy only means that for one awful instant we remember that we forget.
--G.K. Chesterton
We were, for the briefest of moments, something greater than the sum of our uncertain parts; we were youth itself, in all its painful glory and sharp joy.
--August Van Zorn
--Stephen King
Film lovers are sick people.
--Francois Truffaut