classes start today. An hour and twenty minutes until class numero uno, and I sit here killing time, waiting until I get word from my bank or have to leave to get to class.
last night I chopped off a lot of hair and shaved and took a needle in the hay picture of myself and decided to do something. Rushdie got me thinking about the mutability of people and of the self. There's no reason not to be better. Not for the world or for anyone in particular, but for one's self. There are things everyone feels are inadequate about themselves and what reason is there not to try and make them adequate? Except laziness or fear.
When I hit the brick wall of my own limitations, I'll hit it hard because I'm too young and full of myself to ever see it coming. There's nothing I can't do, so why let nothing be what I do. I screen plays to write and habits to break and hearts to steal and statements to make and time to fill and pictures to take and places to run and snowballs to throw and hats to wear and songs to hear and songs to sing.
there's life to live and I'm waiting for a goddamn bank six hours behind me to send me word that my card will work so I can buy some sustenance. my world can't begin anew on an empty stomach.
MUSIC: the cure: close to me
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