Damn, it's 4:00 am, and I'm semi-tired, but I just wrote about The Doves in Bill's blog, so now I want to listen to the album. Plus I have homework I should do to turn in tomorrow, since I won't be in that class Monday, but I'll be a dumbass and wake up early to do it instead. Oh how I love you dearly procrastination.
So tonight me and Antonio (I feel like I should say his name in an accent every time) went to go see Ocean's Twelve. Emily had warned me it was awful, but I really liked it. So maybe I didn't completely understand the ending, but regardless, I thought it was funny. I just typed that last sentence without looking at my hands. You would think with how much I type, I'd be a pro at it, but instead I seem to get worse. Everytime I write the word "the" I mistype it as "teh" and have to backspace and fix it. Also I seem to have a knack for typing "just" as "jsut" everytime. I should start using Spellcheck.
Antonio is starting to weird me out though. He keeps saying things that I don't think you should say on a first or decond date, unless you're trying to freak the person out. If that's the case, then it's working really well. I have to see him in class tomorrow, but after that I'll be free until next Wednesday, cause I'll be gone from Friday - Monday and have to study for a test tomorrow night.
I read every night before I go to bed, and my book de la week is Chronicles by Bob Dylan, that I got for Christmas. I've been reading it off and on, in between rereading Slaughterhouse Five, starting This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald and picking up Big Sur by Jack Kerouac again (I've been "reading" that one for probably two years now). For some reason though, I can't finish it. It got great reviews and even won some literary award, but I jsut can't get into it. I've read probably at least 8 books on Dylan already, but none of those of course were autobiographical. Whenever he gave interviews when he was younger, and still today sometimes, he hardly ever gave straght answers. He was always considered an "enigma" of sorts by the press, and that's how I'm used to him. So now that he actually wrote it all down, first handly, makes it a totally different thing to read. I guess I don't like knowing exactly how some songs were written, or what (or who) exactly they were written about. The part I like about Dylan is that he is a mystery. Yeah, everyone will always say Mr. Tambourine Man is about drugs, but no one but Dylan knows for sure. There are some obvious songs, like Sara which was written about his ex-wife. Her name was Sara, so I think it's a pretty safe bet. I don't know where I'm going with this, I can't explain it at all. To sum up - I can't finish the goddamn book. I think that was much too long of a paragraph just to get that one point across. Oh well.
Now it's 4:30, and I need to be up at 11:00, so I think I'm going to finally go to bed. But download The Last Broadcast by The Doves. And Jenn, I'm sorry I don't mean to make you jealous that you can't download songs. I really don't expect anyone to download it. It's just basically my way of saying "this is my favorite song of the monent." Can you deal with it now and stop being all ansty-in-your-pantsy? Night, bitches.
Comes a point where you feel nothing, this is the last time, cause I can see it in your eyes.