fruit n' sour jolly rancher

coca cola is decisive in my night because it really upholds a fine, razor tooth comb that i dance merrily upon. should i have diet? hmm. or regular? chasers or red wine? ill choose the latter. or was that ladder? to where? a grassy knoll upon which i wait for an apple to drop with a worm who says, " this is only a dream, travel my earthly, kindred soul, for i was where you sat before. " i laugh at his rings, judging him for his time on earth. "how did you begin? where did this start?" i've never seen a worm cry nor a prayer answered, but i am sure of both. answers ultimately are fused for explosion when sparrows sing in the fall. "does this make sense to you, sir?" he laughed. i had never seen a worm laugh. "i enjoyed coca cola whilst i was a youth, cry only tears of joy." 

i awoke, exhumed from a dark slumber. "i need to brush my teeth."

life continued.

ugh

tired. sleep deprived. mixed with sleep paralysis. beautiful concoction. it happens nightly. frozen; left in the open. this usually causes myself to receive no more than 2-3 hours of sleep a night. so when i say i enjoy sleeping as much as possible, oh boy, do i mean it. so, reading up on this fucking gem, ive come to realize im either possessed by the devil, or something is genuinely wrong with me. lets hope my first option, i'll add it to the bag of other demons i fight on the daily.
peep the new julian casablancas song with dangermouse/sparklehorse. pretty cool.

soooo

i rarely go on here. i work too much, and when im off i prefer sleeping, reading, or buying records to really convey any spirit into this. i think maybe one person reads this, haha. so let's see:
- the kills and the horrors this friday at neumo's. wicked.
- im going home soon to see my family, the girl i love, and witness my grandmother turn 80.
- not too thrilled that flight of the conchords is soldout all three nights in seattle.
- my iphone is still broken, but i can text still.
- i find out if im promoted in a week.
- college courses start back up for me. im genuinely thrilled.
- ive mellowed out a lot when it comes to expressing how i feel and being too overdramatic about said emotions. if things pan out, lovely. if not; "while i continue to toil through this..waking life." ha.
- 1. im getting better at saving my money. 2. i have enough vacation time to leave for a few weeks. 1+2= belgium. by myself. sure. im thrilled.
- its getting sunnier. huzzah.

i guess thats all thats really going on for now.

think.

There's a branch of vitality that has everything to do with death, with mortality and the absolute end of a simple existence. Without the understanding that there's no escape hatch when the lights start to dim and where the embalmer makes his bread, one is unfortunately disillusioned and cannot successfully live it up. Without embracing the fragility of life, the capacity to experience richness in life is lessened. Death legitimizes life, to some extent, and some of the most interesting thoughts come when death is broached and really examined with a fine-toothed comb. The thought of death is so suggestive of tragedy and such a languid supposition that it never really feels like it's breathing our air, but when it's put into the right contexts and those carpe diem birds start chirping as if they've just bathed in the mystic prowess of promised daybreak, death is as lovely and invigorating a concept as anything. It can be the same as a crisp autumn morning, maybe with exhalations coming out white, but still toasty only because thinking of death and one's eminent demise can force a person to truly get to living, as flowery as that may sound.

have a lovely day.

.....

isnt much that i feel i need

a solid soul, and the blood i bleed.

with a little girl, and by my spouse,

i only want a proper house.

i ran out of effin fish oil. i bought the church hams for easter. i wore loafers with no socks. is it still winter? im getting fat. listening to a lot of reggae lately, and animal collective. if you couldnt tell. im sleeping too much. all i wanna do is sleep.

anything i write, i've noticed...

i end up hating anyway. i pour endless hours into journals, only to pull a fuckin silvia plath and burn everything or flush it down the toilet. its pathetic. ill look back on this in, hmm, three weeks and want to delete it. so ill be happier. i failed my room inspection today, and not because its a den of iniquity, or even some slovenly pit; no, because i had a few clothes out and various postcards and a picture of virginia woolf. "gear adrift." kick rocks. 

so, in other news? ive successfully completed a year in seattle. i truly love this place. one major reason behind my said love of this pacific northwestern town is the local radio station kexp 90.3. i heard of the station within a few days of moving up, and its been on 24/7 since then. i can honestly say it has kept me sane at work with all the looney tunes i work with, so yeah! check out the site...www.kexp.org

um, have a lovely day. i dont feel too creative, nor do i feel like rambling about nonsensical bs.

pizzicato five- my baby portable player sound. 

julie doiron- spill yer lungs.

serge gainsbourg- melody.

chris joss- zingy twangs.

the decemberists- the rakes song.

!!!

utter realization?

cliche. sure.

i realized today, for the 1698696 time (yes that was a random clicky of my mac numerical second line down) that i, christian patrick douglass, am a fool for love. and not just any love. im in love with a girl that is religiously untouchable.  a woman that is so cute she doesnt know it. a woman i see as the bearer of mis cubby's. she knows. oh sheee knows! just wanted to throw that little nutter butter out there. meet me in bruge, mi amor; love is ours, sexton is sour.

p.s. kimya dawson can suck it. she seriously sucks.

amadou & mariam - sabali.