"wanting money for the sake of buying stuff is greed. wanting money for the sake of obtaining nice things is lust." that's the brilliant thought that made me feel the need to post in this stupid blog again. like that little nugget of genius simply had to be shared with the world. the reason posterity exists. yeah, more like toss it into a tiny bottle and drop it into the ocean. there's no way anyone reads this. how? why? not possible. anywhooo.

here i am. back in town. typing out my crazy like "yaw yaw how you be?". so i'm here and i shared my glorious ben franklinism with you. what next? i could go anywhere with this since i'm telling my secret to a hole in a tree anyway. like:

god. i think i'm turning into one of those girls who has a constant need to be physically comfortable. i think this marks a mental breakdown of some sort. as though internal and/or external life have just become too much to bear and i need to create for myself some sort of tangible joy through physical comfort. i believe this is a common occurrence in america. i can back up this belief by the overwhelming popularity of the sweatpant paired with the overwhelming obesity of this country. they ain't getting bought for the gym, folks.
or like:

man. i just watched fata morgana. how great is that super uplifting popol vuh song? how can you hear that song and not instantly picture self driving around in a van topless at dawn somewhere in the middle of nowhere in august-- smoking a joint and hanging out with some relatively new-yet-awesome friends. great song.
or how about:

willie nelson. what fucking song is he hearing? i dare anyone to sing anything like him. i love him.
yeah dude. so much to talk about. actually, after looking back at my examples... exponentially less to talk about, ha cha cha cha. seriously though, i'm afraid i'm going to keep babbling on about music because my ipod in on in the background and it could potentially dominate my thought process. innane music crap is what the other blog is for. this one is for inane crazy rant. i should just turn off the ipod, however the silence could very well induce writer's block, and then i might as well watch tv or go to bed or something. this is truth. maybe i shouldn't have the red headed stranger on specifically. i can't talk about willie nelson all night, but this shit is hard to ignore. i should have on some boring ass bloc party or something, elevator musak. of course, bloc party might aggravate me and then i'd start ranting about how much i don't like it. maybe i should have on something more like the mountain goats, but turned down so low that i can't hear the lyrics. then it would be familiar and likeable, but completely uninteresting.
oh shit! look i'm doing it already. snooooooze. (one more thing: black sabbath- ridiculous drum solos. ridiculous.)


ok ok. that's enough for tonight. lates bitches.