words are meaningless and forgettable
i love balance.

on the way to school this morning, i looked over at a car that was a little bit ahead of me, and the bumper sticker read: "i am the dread pirate roberts." i pulled up next to it and looked at the driver, and i swear it was kelly osbourne.

it's funny being in rush hour traffic at 8:00 am on the freeway while driving next to a bus. you feel like some LAPD fool is gonna weave his way through traffic, cut you off, and start screaming at the bus driver to "stay above 50!" er, maybe that's just me.

i had a dream that my computer screen turned into that snowy fuzz like the TVs had in "the ring." and after a little while, the fuzz turned into glowing white rings all over the black screen. the eerie screeching sounds were coming from the monitor too. it must suck to not have my brain.

i saw footage of this hurricane isabel business, and like a freak, i wish i could be smack dab in the middle of it. i wanna get blown around like the flimsy piece of paper that i am. there's just something so appealing about reality.

your halo's slipping down to choke you now.

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there's this weird urge that i've been getting more and more often, and it involves throwing everything i own away. i have an obsessive desire to not know what it's like to have connections to anyone or anything. it's not classic laurence-ism, but that could be the reason it intrigues me so. sometimes i just want to throw everything away. letters, pictures, notebooks, journals, books, CDs, cassette tapes, clothes, pencils, necklaces, shoes, razors, ticket stubs, guitars, magazine cut-outs, etc. and all the junk that i save because it has some kind of "sentimental value" to me. another word for "sentimental value" is cage. the amount of freedom i would attain is unimaginable. you know how, when you look at a certain object in your room, or spray on a fragrance, or wear a particular shirt, it reminds you of someone or something from your past? you hear a song and suddenly you're 15 years old again, cold, sitting alone at the dining room table at 7:30 am, staring out the window at the barren november landscape, with a stomach ache, trying to keep down the two bites of disgustingly dry waffles you could hardly even swallow, wishing that swallowing something was enough to fill the empty pit in your gut. a song - a mere melody, a collection of sounds - can make you feel something as real as the present sensation of a fingernail running down your arm. it's this authentic recollection of feelings that refrains you from wearing your favorite perfume/cologne because the scent actually triggers the same feeling your ex gave you when you used to wear it. does anyone else think that's scary? a smell triggers a feeling that is totally independent of (and not even caused by) the cologne in the first place? we've all experienced this, and therefore accept it and go on without another thought, just like episodes of de ja vu. it's just a natural part of life. but really think about it. it's amazing. and it's frightening, because regardless of where you are in your life, feelings will always pop up out of nowhere, when you least expect it and even when you try avoiding it. memories have power. i'm at this point where i want everything to be brand new. i don't want to know anything, or remember anything when i see a sign, or smell acqua di gio, or hear "to sheila". when i see a car, i don't want to associate it with a human being. it's a car, a material item made of dead, cold steel. un-living, un-feeling.

sometimes i wish i could be a car, only so i wouldn't have my human tendency to be a wuss. that way, i could throw everything away.

Fact and fiction work as a team.