it was a fine affair, but now it's over...

i didn't do anything for saint patrick's day because i am too old for that shit. and because i don't have any friends to hang out with. okay, i don't have any friends that i can actually hang out with without being bored out of my mind. i probably would have rallied last night if i had some friends to actually rally with. my whole life is work and insomnia (although i've been seriously exhausted from the boobs so at least i can sleep lately.)

I realized last night that i am too opinionated and hard core for this city. Anyone who knows me will laugh and say that i'm not too hardcore for anything, but that's because they are bastards and haven't visited me in this boring homogeneous suburban city sprawl so they have no idea what i am up against here. no one here understands why i want to hear music at night, no one here can possibly relate to any of my drug fueled experiences and no one here can even begin to understand what i've been through, much less feel where i'm coming from. There's no energy here, there's no dirty ghetto food spots that are open until 2AM, there is no dirt, no colored skin, no style, no cabs, no art, no pulse, no humans. there are only whitewashed suburbanites and trophy wives who aspire to be nothing more than hummer driving, manicure having, starbucks drinking, cell phone talkers who can't list a single current event except the sale at Neiman Marcus.

People don't understand anything about me here. It's fairly obvious that most people i've met here find most things about me rather weird. It's weird that i like hip hop. It's weird that i think palazzo pants are wack. It's weird that i even say wack. It's weird that i wear what i like and not what "they are showing" in inStyle magazine. it's weird that i drink on airplanes. it's weird that I swear regularly. It's weird that i care about the war, it's weird that i care about politics, it's weird that i vote, it's weird that i like organic food and it's weird that i read. The only thing that is not weird about me is the fact that i like to be tan and i have fake tits.

i'm making more and more money and i'm becoming more and more "successful" as the months go by, and right along with it i'm feeling more and more empty, bored, uninspired and restless. I am not living up to my potential and i'm not exploring all my possibilities and once again i am ready to move on and see what ELSE is OUT THERE. when will i be satisfied?

you have to understand the way i am, mein herr
a tiger is a tiger, not a lamb, mein herr
you'll never turn the vinegar to jam, mein herr
so i do what i do
when i'm through then i'm through
and i'm through
toodle oo.


don't dab your eye mein herr
or wonder why mein herr
i've always said that i was a rover

you musn't knit your brow
you should have known by now
you've every cause to doubt me mein herr

although i used to care
i need the open air
you're better off without me
mein herr