i am gonna make it...

...through this year if it kills me.

Yup. Ending the year in style (and angst). And yup. I do listen to music that's not the Mountain Goats. However, they go best in my internet journal, because they are my twenty-two-year-old Bright Eyes.

anyway.

New Years Resolutions for 2009

1. 2 Minute Showers:

This is definitely my least eco-friendly personal pleasure. I used to take naps on the floor of the bathroom with the water on, simply because I enjoyed the noise and the warmth. These days, I just stand there, usually for a about 20 minutes, thinking about not much at all.

With this single self-improvement party, I can deprive myself of something and save the environment at the same time. Next year: self-flagellation with a mulch-spreader.

2. Burn Zero Bridges:

I learned toward the end of 2008 that when you decide you don't want someone in your life, sometimes it means that you lose that person forever. Oops. Luckily, some folks (you know who you are) are just too patient for that nonsense. Anyway, I take the easy-way out too often, then the tantrum-fuel runs out, and I just end up feeling foolish. Enough!

Next year: I construct a second 35W bridge. With a mulch spreader.

Some things I will write you about in 2009!

"A woman talks about Buddha with her 6 year-old in Macy's!"

"Why 808s and Heartbreaks is not really that terrible, but Kanye is still no longer on top"

"Domestic Living"

"Probably Some Photos I've taken"

Good luck to you all. May this year take last year out behind the woodshed, give it a good talking to, and send it away with a Werther's and a better attitude.

Mulch Spreaders!,

-Kev'd Lang Syne.

this morning...

...i set my shirt and a pair of underwear on fire.

Yeah, it's about me, and it's an interesting opening sentence. booyah.

preface: we are sleeping in my grandfather's house. at one point in history, he got so mad at the power company for charging him large amounts of money on his bill, he ripped the gas lines out of the ground around his house. hence, no heating. instead, he pays out the ass in electric bills for using about 23 electric furnaces around the house. and leaves the stove on all night for more spatial heating. and i have to sleep there. all week long. on a couch. in sweats. under four blankets. tis the season for cranky-ass mornings.

actually the story:

not sure what compelled me, but i thought, "hm, there's a full-powered burner going right there. i bet that would make my undergarments all nice and toasty, considering how well it's heating this three-foot space in the kitchen." nope, turns out that touching those things to a red hot oven-top only sets your shit aflame.

to be fair, there was not actually an open flame. the burner was one of those wire-coil-ey type ones. still admittedly a dumbass moment.

liar liar,

-kevsonfire

Real...

...stuff.

This is total bullshit.

As someone who loves drinks, I am appalled.

I wish...

...I knew how to quit you.

Back at it. I had some things to write, but I seem to have forgotten them, much like everything I learned this semester in school.

I am here in Dallas, preparing for some time at home with my goddamily. Cue the booze train. All aboard.

On the television, Olive Oil just gave birth to twin Popeye's, straight from her out-of-frame-animated-birth-canal.

My little sister remains cute.

I just got a "mixtape" album from DJ Drama. Andre 3000+T.I.+Lil' Jon+Pusha T=ohmygodfuckyeah.

My hair is very long.

I wonder seriously about how long I can remain faithful of goodness in the world.

Note to self: This blog is not gay cowboy copulation.

-kevalong cassady.

fuck...

...this thing.

I'm done with it. Maybe I'll come back to it down the line, but I feel like I'm spending a lot of time writing drivel here that I could be writing elsewhere (grad school?)

-signing off with clever little permutations of my name is no longer original.