E-mail, nicotine withdrawal, guitar improvement, Aerosmith and homemade cheese.
Friday, 09/05/03 - 11:59 am.

Aloha, IKEA boy.

(�howsitgoing, lad? I hope you're all gay -in the gay sense of the word-)
My mortal ignorance that ignores your schedule and my discriminated need of disposable souls push me to inquire if you are available this monday from 2 to 3, to be part of a happy psychology experiment that involves no cutting devices whatsoever.
I wouldn't ask you if you wore glass, really, but it just so happens that you don't, that's why I'm asking you (it's not like they're giving away glasses, it's just that they don't want incapable eyes).
Anyway, even if you can't, thank you for your good will (because, honestly, deep down, everybody wants to be subject of the emotionally repressed).

Aloha again <3

I think this e-mail explains itself. I need individuals for my upcoming psychology experiment. IKEA boy is D.

I know it's not healthy for me to try to get back in touch with him. Finally time has flown and I've moved on. Trying to see him again is like begging for getting the heartache back. The truth is, part of me does want to hear from him. And the further truth is that I wouldn't have written to him had I known there was the minimal possibility of him saying yes.

So ha.

I just realized how stupid he, Norman and their friend Fo look with a pierced tongue. They're elitist, preppy, Tony & Guy, Tommy Hilfiger boys, and a piercing clashes with their pink, posh, strawberry-like nature. They just want to be cool and now I feel sorry for them posers.

Well, that was therapeutic.

Ern killed a spider last night, in class. He sat next to me, and was in the middle of a nicotine crisis, because he's trying to quit smoke less. I told him to draw a cigarrette with his left hand, so it'd look lame. Not only did he draw a cigarrette, he drew the whole smoking process.

A tiny, pretty spider (it was blue-ish gray or something) was running accross his psychology book. Look, a spider!, I said. He turned his face and slightly raised his hand. The rest is history, and I blame it on the nicotine withdrawal.

This morning I was playing guitar and I was amused to see I've actually made some improvements. I was trying to do the famous intro to A Hard's Day Night. I'd never been able to do it, because it requires for you to press the 6 strings at the same time. Today my fingers moved mechanically and did the job themselves. It still sounded out of tune, and nothing like the original, but at least I found the way to play it.

I missed the NFL kickoff show, hence I missed the Aerosmith performance. Perhaps I'll catch on the news, so I'm leaving now.

I discovered this morning that the milk was rancid. My mom made cheese out of it, and apparently it's good (I can't tell for sure, and I don't feel like finding out).

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