Pink sweater
22 April 2004 at 1:33 pm

I think getting voted off of American Idol during the Barry Manilow episode is one of the most indecent things to do to a human being. My condolences to Jennifer and her family.

With that note of loserdom out of the way, I woke up at 6am this morning for no reason at all and spent a good few minutes pondering my consciousness and why it was so at that time.

I determined that I must have gotten enough sleep for the first time in many moons. Aaron happened to awaken at that time as well and asked me to get him a glass of water. As I stumbled to the refrigerator, I noticed that the beginnings of a sun outside was visible. An orangey glow framed the grey black, signaling night�s end and morning�s beginning. This was a welcome experience, as the last view days I�ve joined the world of the awake without being able to view anything except for the grey, grey fog that envelops the city most mornings.

I contemplated my options: since I was awake so early, I could take a shower and have a cup of coffee and eat my grapefruit while watching the morning news if I chose to stay awake. If I went to bed for another hour, I could rush around frantically smelling everything I own in hopes that it was clean enough to wear, grab my grapefruit and eat it at the office, and rush out the door seconds before my bus arrives. The first sounded nicer; I chose the second. I hope I don�t smell too much.

one year ago today: �it's nice when a lot happens before 9am.��life is so fucking stagnant right now.�

two years ago today: �come on, there must be something else to bitch about.� and �goddamn you, tobacco! how could you fail me now?� and �it's like going to confession, except more expensive and not quite as annoying.� and �my mommy called tonight to tell me that she knows i worry about her worrying about me but i shouldn't because she's just chilling in redding with no worries at all��

three years ago today: �c'est moi.� and �go see it if you're in a liedown, take-it-in mood.� and �here's a hint: if you're going to compliment me, spell it right� and �DON'T EVER, EVER, EVER BUY ME FLOWERS!�

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.