My little brother bought me gas today, and said "It's for your birthday dawg." My little brother put five dollars in my gas tank, I must be getting old.
Turning twenty-two on a Tuesday is one of the most uneventful experiences known to humankind. I wish all birthdays were always celebrated with the enthusiasm that is given to a child's fifth birthday, that would make for a fun aging process.
"Aes fucking Rock is in the building, the room looked up, looked down, kept sniffing." I bought tickets to see Aesop Rock in Colorado on February 18th. I'm happier than a make-a-wish recipient (mostly because I don't have a terminal illness,) but also because I adore that man's art more than it is possible to articulate. He is a lyrical genius, and a madman. I use the way I feel about Aesop to describe how I feel about love, and I judge potential mates based on their ability to appreciate his lyrics. If I was a more fickle person, I would have at least one of his album covers tattooed on my arm, or the Weathermen symbol, that's right, I love him that much. I hope I can get him to sign my Fast Cars, Danger, Fire and Knives EP Special Edition lyric book, and maybe snag a picture with him, that would be the tops. Also, if he sucks live it will be when my personal giant falls.
1 comment:
Chels! Every birthday past 21 is uneventful. Sorry to ruin it for you. I thought 30 was going to be rockin', but it totally blew. And my purse was stolen.
I'm just sitting here at the SL airport Park and Wait bored out of my mind while waiting for my mother's delayed flight. It just seems like I could be doing things that interest me a ton more here on this Saturday night. Anyway, I'm rambling on your blog comments. I apologize. Take care, my lovely!
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