slipping.

“ It was a marvelous night, the sort of night one only experiences when one is young. The sky was so bright, and there were so many stars that, gazing upward, one couldn’t help wondering how so many whimsical, wicked people could live under such a sky."
— Fyodor Dostoevsky

cant wait to ride with critical mass on friday.

someone fuxked up our toilet and all i know is that it wasnt me. but they arent going to fix it, rather just leave it broken.


im beginning to wonder where everyone has been going to the bathroom the past few days.

hoes

heading out to san jose for the night with clare and moora.


be back tomorrowz!











i got my stunna shades on, i'm cooler than that guy.

gonnnnne

if only

ooooh

Ari Bak-oops comes back tomorrow!

i am you as you are me and we are one. back in action.

today i went to see thee oh sees with clare peter and alex.

while sitting in delores park a man walked up to us and said, "do you smoke crack?" and we said no. he then pointed at me and said "how much for this one?"





the boys are hosting beer pong tonight.
i walked in with carlos and graham looked at me and, after expressing his excitement about the pong as well as carlos, said "courtney, can he please stay? please?"

so cute. graham is a softy.


going to the boys house now. my pupster is still there.

crushed bones.

Here's
To inhaling crushed bones
through a dried up
white out pen
and riding the backwards racer
in hot June rain
in a matching blue and gold
plastic bag / poncho / raincoat.

It's a wooden coaster
with a medium hill height mean,
high hill to flat ground ratio
you know I'd sell my shingles
for a thimble dip of snow.
Back then I'd've sold my single
for a fingertip of glow.

And us in navy blue hoodies
and khakis, as was the style that year.

In London,
where the sirens yelp
like a helpless dog
with its paw stepped on,
and the rain comes down in late July
and the record labels call you Why?
and your eyes are slits in bags of fat
and your eyes are piss holes in the snow

I swear,
The riders on the tube
tie razors to their elbows,
The riders on the tube
keep cold coal in their billfolds,
The riders on the tube
will hide cocaine in their shell toes,
and yes yes yes man
they'll novocaine their hello's
Till the constables got pit bulls
with their paw bones all stepped on
Till the constables got pit bulls
With crushed bones up their nose holes

And us in fish net hat
and canvas shoes, as was the style that year


-------

SO GOOD. i love this song.

ira.

there is a young ira glass sleeping on my floor..or couch? right now.


fucking hot.
im infatuated.

maybe a little more facial hair. but its all good.



i think i left my camera at max & grahams.

beer pong & flip cup.

fixies.

last night = stress city.


horrible combination of certain people. uninvited. drama. moms. awkward situations left & right. sleep deprivation.

oh and then me and max had the great idea of going for a ride to get donuts at like midnight. took justin with us. got pulled over. bike attempted to murder me. bike then refused to work. had to carry it all the way back.

and then today i woke up with a ridiculous amount of bruises. i think i have an iron deficiency or something. i know i bruise easily this is really ridiculous.

tonight was stressful too.

i really want to sleep but im not tired.

carlos wont stop trying to play. thanks max.

i still love quotes.

me and jess used to spend hours looking up quotes and sending them to each other. i've always loved quotes on photos. and funny things.

ramblings

You can't feel emotion if you haven't died thoroughly, if the bloodstains don't represent a lifeline of failures scattered in your pocket. They would tell you to keep on moving until you get through, but they don't understand. Hope is an empty well in the middle of a desert and all the positive thoughts in the world won't fill it up. Look right and left and right and left when you cross roads, but whether you go or stop still in the middle of the road with heavy traffic behind you can only be your choice.

Don't fall behind - release the clutch and crush the gas, the only way out is forward.

Dead-ends and philosophy can't match moments to realism and people don't stop on sidewalks to define life. Everything is a catastrophe, a puzzle to fix and all we can do is look for reasons to avoid them. The same cliché phrases and the most outdated greetings are not familiar - they sting nerves and and plaster love in the first layer, but like when pressed wood meets water, it all cracks and deteriorates until nothing is left but the ugly core.

They say it has to get worse before it gets better, but you're glued to the storms and lugging bricks to build walls around you. Creating loneliness is easy; a simple subtraction - but detachment is an equation that runs off the edge of the page like a song that has no ending. Claustrophobia is not a good enough excuse.

The cold air is coming and you're not ready. You can't change colors; you can't adapt or improvise out of an empty stage. The audience doesn't decrease - it doubles and multiplies. Stop racing across crooked roads when there's nothing to run from except yourself.

And that's all you really have.

current love interest.

melvil poupaud.



he is SO fine.

and foreign.

and sexy.

muscle pains

went and rode with critical mass yesterday.
so sore.
so fun.

cant wait til next month.



going to a brew fest or something with lindsay tonight.



i love my bike. the end.