there is no night time, it's just a phase

a little fake rose

okay so as a first note, i ahve decided that i hate tumblr with a fiery passion. so now, i have also decided that i am going to stop stealing pictures from other people's blogs and tumblr (which is what i have been doing) and start using my own pictures because i don't suck at taking them and yeah.
so... I have realized that I should carry a notebooks around so I can write down my people watching escapades. this morning, on the bus back to Adelaide from Albert park, I drove past so many weird places and things. after halfway inn and black knight erotica I sort of lost track. anyhow, I realized, at eight in the morning on a Sunday, that I don't want to start driving everywhere. busses are so great. people don't seem notice that they do it, but everyone watches who gets on when the bus stops, and we all quietly judge the new arrivals. and unless they have a book, they join our ranks and watch the next set of people get on. you don't get that sort of quality people watching in a car.
in other equally as boring news, I think I have fallen in love with Elliott Smith. he is very Ben folds-esque, but just better. I never thought I'd say that someone trumped the lyrical genius of Ben folds, but there it is. Elliott smith shits all over him. actually, Ben folds is playing at re entertainment centre soon, and I inter to gather Dominic and go to that so we can rep two thousand and five.
Bec is at the pokies in hahndorf, so I'm just hangin out at home being bored.
last night was special. I caught a bus into the city at about eleven o'clock with a bunch of half drunk people and then sketched all the way to Albert park on the last train to see Rebecca smith. I tell you, I need some sort of chaperone to stop me doing stuff like that, because I ended up walking around in bare feet at four in the morning, exploring suspiciously dark streets all alone. for some reason there wasn't a lighter in the whole house so we were drunkenly lighting cigarettes on the stove top and bumbling outside with then to have deep talks about cancer and shitty parental units. you know that classic teen angst talk that sometimes just has to be had.
I bailed at seven thirty in the morning, after a sleepless night, and drank red cordial to rehydrated, which turned out to be a pretty bad idea. and then I got home and the electricity switches had been tripped so I couldn't even make myself a cup of tea.
I felt really selfish, staring up at the sky in the early hours. the world is so beautiful, why is it that so often I want to die. it was like staring at a that leaf. I never spare a thought for the people who really are dying, and want to love. I doubt that whatever comes after death is as beautiful as each and everything I see now.
it's an enlightening moment I have had a billion times but every time it hits me harder. funny how it makes me feel ten times worse but a thousand times better at the same time.
even my blanket is incredible now.