I wish those days like I wish the plague

britt keeps doling these out at the speed of like one a month i don’t even look like this anymore hahah.

ok here’s a question i’m getting around to answering now.

if the blogger wrote a blog and no one was there to read it, did they actually write anything?

would they continue writing? -billie

ahh what a great question. i love pretentious open-ended ethereal self-ego stroking artistic bombastic questions one can really lunatic out to. woah look at that sentence. anyway, i cherish the days when it was very tree falling in the woods and no one heard me, even though i began day one of blogging already with an audience. raymi the minx was born of the viceland.com wassup forum. i am super sick of typing that but that’s how it all began. i kind of really want to see some of those threads again. i was 17.

anyway, my first roommate when i moved to toronto at 19 pending my five month stint in brooklyn (when i was 18 and sort of interned at vice til they fastly learned how useless i was going to be in the office, and stubborn, and self-entitled so they invented a bartending job for me in their soho store) my toronto roommate was/is a mega tech genius scottish dude. we had our own server and this mentally insane looking computer laboratory in the cellar, and because of that guy i learned about this thing called BLOG STATISTICS or HITS. it was so ghetto, just a white blank page that every few minutes we’d refresh and his mind was blooooooown when he saw how much traffic was being directed to our crawford street ghetto apartment, to my blog. in less than the ten minutes it took for him to connect whatever the fuck to my blog and ping pong something or other, one hundred people had been on my blog and the number kept rising, we blocked our own ip to be sure we weren’t hallucinating these numbers. this is all in that period post the dot com millionaire boom window closing. i was 19 and internet famous in this sort of significant way. it was bizarre. if people wanted to let you know you were a piece of shit they had to write you an email. commenting didn’t really exist. guestbooks did. hahahaha gay.

there was still a lot of distance though, between me, us, and them. more isolating, despite knowing the reader was there, i could live more like they actually weren’t.

but now if every single reader went away would i still blog? yes. i would journal like it was 1998. or 1990 when i bought myself my first journal. i have so much of my life documented and i wonder if any of it is even worthwhile or meaningful, what is the point. why do i write everyday what the fuck do i think i am doing here and who the hell do i think i am?

me at 15. missing my first boyfriend being emo during a family vacation. teenagers are the worst hey, what stupid bunches of drags.

cut off my beautiful hair five days into knightsbridge uk (17). was sent for school for an exchange program in the summer, half in london half in oxford. surrounded by rich rosedale kids. i had five one night stands and kept to myself a lot, separated myself from the pack, venturing out to pubs and bars and cafes drinking my way the whole way through journaling alone at nite, sitting with strangers, typically men. so cliche. one of the teachers in this program lived above me in the crawford ghetto (which was not actually a ghetto, but a house on crawford street in little italy). small world. i was homesick for people i barely knew. raymi wasn’t invented yet but i was poking around viceland, blogger wasn’t invented yet. when i got back to canada i interned at a women’s magazine d/t toronto, while working simultaneously at home hardware, commuting my ass to the bone and working weekends and the one monday we didn’t go to our job placements, this was my last year of highschool. i was pale as a ghost and lonely and had a stupid fucking haircut working in cabbagetown and i had to sign a confidentiality agreement so i can’t write a devil wears prada type memoir about my experience. clearly i wanted to be a writer. or work for a magazine. i’d take vice or toronto star but once i saw the other side of the print world i was kinda like, uhhh fuck that, too much work, too much competition, too much writing about things that AREN’T ME. i wanted to be the star. i still want my own raymi magazine some day.

being somewhat under-challenged and sneaky i spent the majority of my time on viceland writing and talking about myself, my commute into the the city, junkies on parliament, posting photos too from scans i took with film throwaways. i stayed up past midnight habitually hanging with my friend ward who is one part rainman and ten parts loyd christmas (dumb and dumber). insanely intelligent when it comes to computers and OCD about car components. i wrote about him a lot. how he took all the chrome off his parent’s car as a kid. called his own house for his friend shafquat (the other extension). would go to drive thru, order and pay for food then drive away (multiple times) before the food arrived. stupid funny shit like that. he taught me how to drive stick, i didn’t have my g1 (still don’t) i’d drive around meadowvale village back and forth all over most nights with him then go back to his place and geek out online. (nights i wasn’t doing stuff like, dudes, of course).

basically i had an itch to scratch, being nocturnal, constantly on the go. i was ready to take on the fucking world, i had a mentor, a savvy guy in the music industry who thought my writing in the vice forums was good and constant and unique, i drew an audience, loved me, hated me, i had them. he said, take them with you, make a blog. me, what’s a blog? him, go check it out come back to me. i kind of drag my heels a few days on it because i am so addicted to the forums and the instant gratification coming out of there.

a photo from one of ward and i’s drive-thru journies. it went viral, as much as something could go viral in 1999. fuck i just totally remembered the three months i lived in maine in-between brooklyn and toronto. i’m nostalgic for those three months because i truly was isolated in maine yet still had my blog and readership, also a radio show called there’s something about raymi. i had happy moments of isolation alone in the den my boyfriend’s father died in, he too alone, blogging away, alone but not alone. this is kind of all over the place but i feel it’s necessary as in every interview for some reason, they need to know the timeline of my blog, pre-dating it and when it first started blowing up like there is some sort of secret in the makeup of this thing? it’s like when you start out with a new therapist they want to know EVERYTHING going back to birth (everything gets blamed on the mother anyway, don’t bother wasting your time) they also want to know every drug too. like, get over it already why does it matter if i did shrooms once? does it mean i hate my mother?

in the car from the airport from maine i said to my dad i am going to work for three month’s straight, save money then move to toronto and become an internet superstar. he was like, whatever lauren. we drove to the pub below his apartment at the time and i sat there, internally glowing about my new plan. these are rare moments. i always feel them when i come back from somewhere. fresh perspective.

fuck, i blog because i know there are moments of brilliance and moments of insanity and sometimes oh my god shut the fuck up already moments, but still, there are moments period. for me. i write my best when my heart is breaking, when i am hopeful and for some reason i am hopeful. as much of the blatantly cynical idiotic showboat that i am, i think that there is in fact something to all this and documenting everyday is a privilege that ought to be did, whether anyone ever reads it or not. it’s the only way i can like myself anymore. writing. knowing one day it will all form together and make sense to me. that’s basically the first thing i should have said here.

one more thing. i know i’m late on this, but wow, the stupidest thing i have read in a very long time. for so many reasons i don’t have the energy to address it all. two choice quotes, “Men clearly have an urge to blog that women lack.” and “We also tend to lack the public confidence that comes so easily to many men.”

woman, i am ashamed for you. i hope you were on your period when you wrote that.

one major point i forgot to make the other day was, if you want to be famous on the internet right now BE a dude because the blog world is so over-saturated with pussy. take this blog, be a guy, and do as i do. you’d blow the fuck up. there aren’t enough guy ME’s out there. what internet circles is this ignorant woman running in? christ. so stupid. also, WHERE are these alleged male blogs? i can barely count on one hand how many male blogs i read. ps. GUESS WHAT MY GENDER IS!

tell your father i was good

good day ladies and gentlemen.


oh boy, what a week. all i fantasize about is getting back to my bed and my weed and my laptop and my tickle trunk room and then i sit here playing catchup, going through emails, complaining about being behind. it’s ok, i’ve a week to take my time. i have a new secret project on the horizon i’m pretty thrilled about. i’m sure many of you will not be thrilled about it though hehheheh.

negroni’s paninis are the best. now i can stop making uncouth inside jokes to myself about the name of the restaurant and being all offended about it. yesterday was the final day of burning the candle at both ends (more like pouring gasoline all over dynamite beside a candle lit at both ends)(was that even funny?) spent my gong show hangover watching the latest episode of lost (seriously most confusing shit ever, pretty hilarious) then precious, which actually blended well with the hangover. i remember i was hung out of my mind once and nauseous and black snake moan helped me through it.

the carpaccio is on par with bar mercurio’s, which is my favourite carpaccio in all of the city.

oh hi. didn’t take ONE picture at suck academy. i checked my bag. on my way out (late) i couldn’t find my hello kitty clutch. just found it now tucked away in the stupidest place ever. trying to find hello kitty in my room is beyond needle in a haystack. aside from all the ganj paraphernalia a teenage girl could move in like that and not skip a junior high beat. actually, a teenage girl would probably laugh her ass off at my room.

tried to get a flat rate from the ten billionth cab we took across the city. i pretended we were both from vancouver. it backfired cos bro was trying to take advantage of our touristy bullshit. i just tuned him out and let jenny deal with it. i can’t even remember the crap i was feeding him. when i woke up the next morning i was like, where the fuck am i? that’s a tale for a day never.

look how disgusting blood oranges are. i did not even try this motherfucker out.

C. i love exploiting her and she helps by playing into it, we’re a good team. WE ARE GONNA FUCKIN’ DESTROY THIS CIIIIIITY.

i want to go stay at thor again so bad now and this time i’ll be skinny for it. sorry for having a complex (not sorry) about it jeez. when people say it to your face every two seconds you kinda can’t help being aware of it. ok so you’re not allowed to say you’re pretty, or skinny. right. cool woman there, very positive of you. YOU can say stuff about me but i can’t say stuff about me. what planet are you on, planet go fuck yourself?

took us awhile to get out of the hotel there were so many reflective surfaces in our way.

she made me take my white socks off. toe cleavage is something i should be more in tune with, apparently. here’s one thing though, when you do the socks and heels look that look is not for other chicks, it’s for dudes and their boners. i was going for french prostitute until toe cleavage nazi influenced me.

there’s really just one way to be though so don’t fuck around.

i figured out how i got 30 bruises all over my body.

pre-eating was a good (my) idea.

apparently i won the hair contest i didn’t know we were having. ooh what did i win?

gorgeous face i’ll take that prize.

saw the harlettes last nite at revival. such a mood lifter. i’m going to audition too. many more updates comin’ your way soon.


just whizzed by where my bike is locked up and it hasn’t been stolen. great news. if it wasn’t raining i’d have gotten out of the cab and rode its ass home.

alicia interrupted some of my extremely important dance moves to take this photo of me for her sunglasses photo montage collection. they look like blind people shades. awesome party the other nite. a little dramatic and awkward and um, yeah, but in the end everything worked out more or less, for this guy.

britt don’t worry your bday pics are comin’. also my day with spliffanie and the rest of my mtv pics.

they say i’m nasty but i don’t give a damn

my stupid necklace that is impossible to detangle.

awesome. now i know why i’m so demented right now. this week has been insane. off the chain, or the chizzle, if you will.

the cosmo hotel is darling. very hotel on rivingtonesque.

i show up and the girl is in her knickers. not these ones obvs but like wow bam, nice to see you too! i see you’ve brought some game to my city.

waking up with hot pink nails brings everything back. it’s safe to say last nite was a little bit of a shit show. i slammed my hand so hard my ganglion cyst is deflating hahaha awesome. but also my hand feels totally busted. we danced the floor into pieces and even fell down a time or two. i don’t even want to think about how much i blew on cabs. we went to the suck academy for some dj. i told all security that “our friends” are going to be “so steamed” when they find out today we got zero vip treatment. fuck i hate that place. (ps it worked)

dear adorable, i’m glad i picked you out of the catalogue for christmas. good choice. holy fuck why am i even typing this right now. so going back to bed in two seconds.

who am i talking to what am i doing, whoever they are they’re lucky.

relaaaax i’m not that skinny, post-menses thin. ok and thin.

stupid hot. i can’t even look at you. i just had a dancefloor vision. wait til you see all the stupid videos i took oh god i wish no one read my blog right now so i could just be an idiot for one day and not have to worry about it. do you like my shoe in the bg? i kicked it off the second i exploded thru the door.

i’m using a mac right now. i have run out of mac patience so more pics later, they all disappeared from the whatever directory i was pulling them from. here’s some pics from britt’s bday friday nite i just remembered i put some on my flickr. i can’t wait for march to be over jesus shit.

went to bohmer that new pretentious gorgeous place on ossington. holy shit amazing scene. swank. pricey. take someone there if you need to impress them. leave your 400 dollar designer spectacles at home though cos every chubby dude in there will be rocking a pair and you will feel like the poseur you are.

hadn’t seen some of these babes in a long time. i feel like a ghost. i’ve been a ghost. look at my stupid hair hogging all the attention. i was going for punk rock i guess.

cam has a broken wrist. hey maybe you should like, be at the hospital instead of this restaurant you idiot.

so i was showing off my cyst which i’m pretty sure exists because of the internet. funny how you mention something then the next day it disappears? kismet they call it. whatever hippies. keep your spells to yourselves.

birthday girl. the best thing about getting older is everybody does it. so you’re momentarily depressed then you’re like, oh burn! such a cute dress.

i really hope my bike hasn’t been stolen.

why is this one so tiny? zzzz. bye.

oh darling you’re a million ways to be cruel

cunts. that’s sheldon aka 40deuce. more like douche. can you believe he had never heard of me before? well, wait he was lying about that though what i’ve been realising is how funneled social media is, narrow-scope a little, small circles. blogs came first, remember where you came from dickholes. twitter is for nerrrrrrds. sure you’re big on twitter but who are you again? you can’t make your brand 140 characters at a time 22,000 tweets a year. you have to be a somebody first. you have to be a me. uh duh.

i deleted a fifteen minute video of my dictatorship to make room for a video of me drumming to aerosmith last nite. my priorities are totally straight.

this photo is a classic example of what it is like dealing with casie while our mother hen carly takes care of business hahahahha. the matching shoes make me laugh.

there are billions of photos of us talking in this manner and what would appear to be posed-kiss photos cos of it. casie has ADD and i have zero patience and many things to say. we have to hold on tightly and scream in each other’s faces to compete for airspace. it is highly irritating and entertaining. exhausting. the raymi casie show would make you blow your fucking brains out. good tv!

sometimes you just gotta drum it out. terribly.

kam is my girl. i am going to bawl like a little wiener when she goes to germany. well at least i’ll have a reason to go to germany now. i do have a crazy old friend who resides in berlin still i think.

noel and kristin‘s head bottom left corner.

dazzle camouflage.

cute chicks.

this is the no big deal pose.

this flickr order urrrrrg. sean had a slide show presentation. he was on it. here’s his wrap-up post where he cries like a little girl over how overjoyed he (rightly so) is by the overwhelmingly positive response the nite received.

never too shy to whatever in front of a room. just don’t look at them. not the whole picture them naked thing, just, don’t picture them period.

all i can think about when i look at these pictures is JUMPER. melodie says i should have gone for size zero. anorexia enabler!

had a few good one liners last nite. modesty will get you nowhere. i’ll just type it all out or post the thing i printed and completely ignored. i am not a good public speaker anymore, way more cerebral and neurotic. i was under and over-prepared. i was the artist between the two social media expert bookends. sean and casie were impressive. though i was the only guy to actually offer up what my stats were so… heheh. can’t wait for the next pow wow. basically i’m just the dancing monkey.

the veg burg is INCREDIBLE. holy fucking shit. veg tards, wow. you have to have this.

i can’t even keep up with my own shit anymore. so overwhelmed. i’m taking the weekend off, first fri/sat off since i started working at the central (i need to kick this cold, march is always busy for me). hanging with jenny beth tomorrow nite. can i wear my jumper again so soon? so excited. jenny says living for your blog is so 2009 hahaha re: my worrying over wearing it again so soon and having pics of it all over again, she’s right. have britt’s birthday dinner tonite then a housewarming party of alicia‘s and i am NOT getting gong-showed otherwise i am going to sound like lindsay lohan forever and look like sofia coppola. who i think is beautiful and so inspiring. lately i’ve been getting blake lively a lot. i went to everyone at work and bragged about it. big deal, no one even knows who she fucking is so that killed that one pretty fast. seriously? i don’t see it.

here’s my blurb i didn’t say. if i had a microphone i woulda been more smooth. i was myself. whatever. next time i’ll not leave everything to the last minute (yeah right). this was supposed to be my little intro, i did touch on some of this i think. next post i’ll blast up my one liners which have been retweeted many times over.

I always secretly wanted to be famous but i never really told anyone this as i felt it would be frowned upon. i’d be told to have another dream. when you’re asked what you want to be when you grow up you usually say what your parents want you to be, or you have some far-fetched vision for yourself. my dream was famous writer actress model art legend. blogging didn’t exist when i was a little kid but i knew that the fame i desired would spurn from more than just writing, more than just acting.

i knew i had a big personality and would be famous for it one day. i’m a talker, i get that from my dad, and mom. one’s a great storyteller and the other won’t ever shut up. i love to fill silences with non-sequitors, little anecdotes of something that just happened to me, i like to relate to people, i like them to feel at ease. i’m sure most times i am wrongly interpreting the silent person at the party as being shy and awkward but still, i want to include everybody and so the easiest way to do that is to hold everybody in the room hostage with a story. there’s the right way to do this (my way) and the wrong way being obnoxious. so half of my life is devoted to filling it up with social activities, walking about taking photos, dinners, whathaveyou, then storytelling it on my blog.

i also “suffer” from depression and i know many others do too. i’m showing people that you can fight it, it is possible, and it doesn’t have to consume you. sure i have my agoraphobic sad days here and there, but i make a point to show a brave front, for myself most of all, but for others as well. i do get a bad rep for being a meaner which sucks, i did this to myself. i believe in second chances. people need to stop seeing me as a villain. they don’t need to, they’re just wrong if they keep looking at me in that vein.

i knew it wouldnt happen over nite but i kept at it because i loved it and i quickly amassed readers which in turn motivated me to keep at it and blog more. in 2002 when blogging received its first wave of popularity i was ahead of the curve, the toronto black sheep. the only female exhibitionist. i was an online model at the time, basically, working in the sex industry and i was hiding that from my blog because my mom read it. working in an environment that is so laissez-faire about sex inspired me to cut loose on my blog, and that i did and continue to do so now. everybody does it in some shape or form today on the internet, it isn’t a big deal, but then it was and in a certain way still creates a stir because as liberal and cool as toronto claims to be, it’s still pretty conservative. so much hypocrisy fills our streets and scenester bars.

so lets say you follow my methods. live your life. be interesting. engaging. compelling. honest. content overload. become somewhat of a character, endear yourselves to people and bingo, you have them hooked. now they’re hooked and it gets to a point where it doesn’t matter what you blog, it matters THAT you blog period. this is the stage i’m at now. i am now no longer a real person. doesn’t matter, just pointing it out. so this personality people become addicted to, whether they love it or hate it, they are still watching. then guess what, this person leaves their fiance and finally breaks silence about it. i call this scandalizing yourself. if you want to be famous on the internet you have to give a little more. insider info. you’re the only one who has this information so they’re looking to you for it. so give it. give what you are comfortable giving then push it slightly further. don’t be afraid. a lot of people stop themselves from “saying it” because they’re worried about backlash. backlash can be good if you can handle it. not everyone can, but, if you’re here to be famous on the internet then we’re assuming you have a thick skin.

basically you have to BE a personality. BE personable. develop your persona, MASTER it. not everyone has to have the same persona, what works for you, works for you.

be funny and playful, be mean sometimes, but balance it with nice and being genuine. people dont want to be barked at all the time. we GET it you’re TELLING IT LIKE IT IS jesus please just shut up already.

and that’s as far as i got before i hit the salon and then everything was just point form dictation in my adorable journal.

chris brooker blogged the event. so did romi.


not to be conceited or anything but how come i am single? LOOK AT ME! FUCK!

adorable sacrilicious locket.

i’m always late. here’s one of ten billion reasons why.

it’s not purely narcissism it’s just, i look like crap 50% of the time, so why not capture and share the other 50% where i look like angel kisses. this jumper is from costa blanca, 30% off everything in the store right now. GO.

and not to be a dick or anything but i’m a size zero now, however, i went for a size two cos it’s a skinny day and i just know by mid-month trying to squeeze into a stupid jumper size zero is just asking for bloated forever. no nono i’m not a zero everywhere, just in jumpers i guess. i should have asked for a size negative infinity that’s how stupid a size zero is. try starting with ONE you fucks.

ok late for the ball, adios muchachos.

(there’s a twitter hashtag for tonite i forget what it is though).

pr agency

she’ll be rich when she’s dead

i’ve been up since 6.40 my eyes are bleary as shit i have a hair appt at noon wherein i’ll finish up the rest of my shit show presentation and make it over to wherever this thing is happening today oh wait just look down here.

don’t be surprised if i roll in wearing tom cruise wayfarers. i think there’s tickets left to be purchased still so why not hey? or at the door just show up. we have booze and food and ‘tude. don’t ask me how much i make ok, i’m there to tell you how to get famous, not rich. if you know where we can attend a how to get rich AND famous seminar, let me know i’ll be your date. either way come meet lohan voice (me) tonite.

last nite after work i went to auld spot in my irish slut maid getup and made the band skip a beat when i came through the door in my trench and looks like a wig incognito call girl ensemble. everyone was already right pissed, i wasn’t. tried to take it easy as was sick but also knew today was a biggie. red flag decided to make a cheap tipper feel cheap that’s how cocked he was when i arrived. it got a little awkward and tense. i sidle on up and say well yeah fifteen per cent is fine and all but it isn’t mindblowing. certainly isn’t. in urban settings when you want to be a showboat (and show respect) one typically tips 20%, that’s how you do in nyc and toronto. so this guy wasn’t feeling that as he was made to look exceptionally stupid in front of some chicks he and his pals were trying to get up on. for me personally, fifteen per cent is fine cos there are plenty of non-tippers out there, like the musicians with the beer tickets FUCK NO the tip isn’t included in that and hello it’s already a free beer don’t be so cheap you scumbag. all taboo, you can’t tell them these things you just have to take it. the best is when you know a customer isn’t going to tip you before they don’t tip you, they’re the worst, most annoying and demanding of the lot. have much more to say can’t be bothered to now. the moral of the story is, auld spot is in love with me now for plugging them in the post and i’ll def be going back for an eating tour of their menu and a proper review.

the outfits went over well last nite. at first i was pretty shy, like, ultra, on top of having the shakes and chills and sweats and adrenaline surge from the 8 cold pills i popped. at first i walk out on the upper patio to a silent hipster mass and proclaim, well, this isn’t embarrassing. they all laugh, with and at me. i deliver the one drink i had for kamila and on my way out said hey guess what fuck you’s guys i’m not serving you anymore then went to hide at the downstairs bar until kamila got changed. when she went up they all applauded her. it’s hard to “own” it sometimes. i try oh i try but mostly i walk as fast as possible staring at the floor in my tornado of shyness. how many cocks i block all on my own accord. so many. one guy tried to be all offended on our behalf for the outfits, asking what is this hooters? i said today it is. he goes so you’re boss is all here you have to wear this. i said NO actually it was MY idea. a woman at the bar ordering some pinot was all fuck yeah, all for it. oh and last nite we had 4 death metal bands. very irish. very so not fucking irish. the second last band was the best. next theme nite will be around easter, i say playboy bunny jumper. but don’t forget my birthday/blog party friday april 2 as well as a raymi party the very next nite april 3. two benders in a row can you hack it? i have a death wish so yeah, i’m pretty sure i can.

what an asshole. hope their register was empty before this got smashed as it was clearly empty when i took this.

the girl who hates my shoes thinks i look like sofia coppola.

oh look here’s something fun!

do you jerk off to this website?
Free polls from Pollhost.com

no longer waiting for life to happen to me

it’s funny feeling like a cartoon character. to see yourself evolve the way others are wrongly interpreting it. i certainly don’t feel like i am blowing up. i just so totally have my OWN shit going on right now therefore lumping me in with others who also have their own stuff, pisses me off. i certainly personify the one man wolf pack bit, but i also definitely see the advantage of not alienating one’s self. if you act like king shit people will only remember the shit part. you aren’t above anything, don’t try for a second to come across as if you are. you don’t have the balls to come over and say hello to people you know, who wouldn’t dream of the snub-or-be-snubbed dead horse you so boringly beat. quite rich pretending to give a shit about some notorious mean woman yet spent the entire time tweeting like a hero about chicks not wearing black.

i do not give a FUCK about social media. i have friends who do. my friends are connected. i am connected. i am a name. invite me to your thing if i like it i’ll go. oh dress me? lovely sure total blogortunity i’ll capitalize on that one sure and last i checked i wasn’t allergic to fun. i scratch their back, they scratch mine.

this is so boring and doesn’t even deserve airspace. it’s a lot easier pretending to be friends cos the gossip-mongering and catty, petty, behind-the-scenes bullshit is seriously exhausting. we all float in the same-ish circles, we all cruise each other’s blogs, it’s really a downer seeing your fucking faces around town with your scowls and BB quick-draw firing, so lame. if you’re so above it why are you writing about it? why do prom dresses you weren’t included in wearing make you so irritable? oh gross look at us, so lame, having fun, drinking during the day WEARING THAT.

why can’t i go to an event then go home case closed? thanks twitter you fucking retard hahaha.

if everyone’s such a fashion renegade risk taking stud why they gotta show their true hypocritical colours like that? your lives are devoted to fashion, then “a happening” happens and you get all stuck-up about it. hilarious. you should try stand-up.

here’s another WOAH NOW! for you. i don’t even identify myself as a blogger (i consider myself an unemployed rock ‘n roller actually). i am a diarist. a compulsive documenter. i’m a lifer. this is my life, i’m showing it. what’s the big deal all the time??

they wanted a stir, they got a stir and guess who helped? YOU did. so really, thanks for helping get the job done.

goodnite! boring!

ps. i felt like i blogged too much today and about nothing important but then i thought who cares, really, it’s freeing when you honest to goodness stop caring and start living for yourself. enjoying what you enjoy, enjoying it while enjoying it. it’s indulgent (the good kind) and i don’t know why everyone else isn’t doing it already. i feel like i’ve been asleep a really fucking long time and now i’m making up for it.

i am no longer waiting for life to happen to me. to be happy. whenever that happens. i make my life happen. waiting for something to go right to feel right. fuck that, it’s here and now. stop being so bitter in the face and trying so hard to achieve and get ahead. just let the cards fall where they may. if it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen. just do something else. this is my personal approach for “making it” right now. no approach. just showing up should be good enough.