Notebook 025

About Me; The Hypocrite And The Slaughter House
Journal Entry: Fri Jan 27, 2006, 12:21 AM


If you're going to take the time out to read this; thank you, but it doesn't mean I owe you anything.

I'm Lewis. (Cue sound of rolling 8mm and out-of-focus slides. Just look at what the lady with the stick is pointing at children. Concentrate.)
I wish I could deliver some 'scene' account of my 'social life', and the nickname that entails from it, but it's just Lewis. Thanks.

3/10 cats think I'm kool. The other 7 are dead.

I basically live by;
A) Missing meals Subsequently Snacking
B) 'Salad Pots' that are 98.5ayonnaise
C) Jaffa Cakes & Biscuits
D) Chocolate
E) Milk (Ice Cold Please Waiter.)
- Hence my fashionably anorexic body tone. It's great for wearing girls clothes but mostly fuck all use for anything else.

I make my own grammar. Mainly because I haven't a clue where things should technically go, but sometimes things just look nice.
(And I Don't Care If You Think It's Wrong.)
I like this little guy especially>> : and his girlfriend>> ;

I like text like this: Text Like Me because it has both super and strong in it's HTML and because it makes me feel like im on pokemon on a nintendo.

I spend too much money on cds. I consider my pedantic nature with cd sleeves, and naracotic-esque spending sprees when confronted with circular plastics, to be a mixture of an imposed economic downfall at which i debit with every blink to feel i'm real and that my statistic counts to some balding account rounding sub-hemi-demi-decimals to the nearest whole. It's also because it's a joke to myself that my musical aspirations aren't in vain; "because every influence makes me the patchwork of originality also known as an; 'artist'." But everyone past the age of 14 knows that originality is like time, beauty and a barry white compilation: you can spend your whole life explaining/searching for its purest definition, and when you're dead, you'll realise; they aren't even real.
(We all know i'm not fooling anyone. My opinions aren't even well educated)As much as it churns me to say it;
No one is different.

As soon as the caveman threw off his animal skin jock-strap and invented hairspray, spandau ballet and micro-chips (quickety quick), we were all doomed to be a nation of stereotypes borrowing accessories and style from decades before -or- the guys with the mics whilst we're dying in the mosh-pit.

Still. At least I'm still trying.
So please, don't laugh mate.

Cause i'm trying really fucking hard here.