It's a shitty thing when you introduce one group of friends to another group of friends, and they get along famously, and you end up out of the loop. I mean, sure, one of those groups of friends may have annoying tendencies, and I definitely have my abrasive tendencies, so I can't be expected to be around them at all times, but that other group of friends? Where the fuck are they? With the first group? And where are they? I don't even fucking know.

I do, of course, have other groups of friends. But they have other groups of friends as well, who I have nothing to say to.

So I spent tonight, bored, looking at the internet. I hate looking at the internet. I much prefer real social interaction... Well, um, sometimes.

It's late at night, at least when you've spent the night doing jackshit. If I was doing things, the night would still be young. I have to wake up early tomorrow, register for next fall's classes. That's at eight. Then I can fall back asleep, but after that I need to go to town. Sell these books. Also need to buy duct tape, as my shoe is falling apart at an exponential rate. At some point, make it back to campus to check mail for McSweeney's 13 and I have to research my ass of for a presentation on Monday. An overview of the politics of the first half of the nineties. Should be like fifteen minutes or something. Which seems like it should be really easy, but it's a bitch finding resources, and I like to know what I'm talking about.

A crappy night, I suppose. And it's not done yet. Even though I want it to be. I want to fall asleep and have dense dreams.

Oh man, one from a few nights ago. I had a false awakening. I went to the bathroom, and it turned out that more annoying dumbass people from my high school had moved in next door. I guess this is a new reoccuring element. I don't know what it means. It's not even friends of mine, it's people who I don't even know their names, I just know they went to my high school and were dumb. I suppose there's the possibility that these people don't exist and that's just the backstory I invent in my dream, but I really have no idea of knowing since I can't work out who they were afterwards. But yeah, a reoccuring theme. I'm thinking... that's like a personal apocalypse. Sometimes I'll be in places I didn't expect to be, or see people I didn't expect to see, and I just think of that one line from a Modest Mouse song, "and on the day that you die, you'll see the people you met." Whenever that happens, it's like the series finale of a sitcom, or something of that ilk. Everything's coming together, wrapping up. Even though, in real life, nothing ever comes together, and nothing ever wraps up.

Could this have something to do with my impending return to the east coast? That thought only occured to me now, so I'm thinking no. Again, I'm not dreaming of people I know and am friends with. It probably just, you know, has more to do with the nature of dreams and memory.

Still.

A personal apocalypse.

What I dream about. God, I have enough of my brain segmented enough to religion and comics and such that my personal apocalypse should be way crazier... I only view it as a personal apocalypse after the fact, upon waking, thinking "what was that about?"

I used a Modest Mouse song lyric, and I feel bad about that. But tonight, I came across an awesome verse to this song by The Hold Steady... I have no idea if I'd like that band, really, but this verse kicks a lot of ass, and I feel the need to remedy how emo the idea of using Modest Mouse song lyrics are, (not because they're an emo band, they're not, it just seems very, you know, kid with a livejournal esque) so I'm... god, I'm just going to quote a verse to a song entirely, which is much much worse, but I mean, shit, look at this:

"all your favorite movies. they ain't all that funny. if you ain't that high. and i ain't that high. all your favorite books. they wouldn't seem so well written if you were just a little bit more well read. jack kerouac is dead. he drank himself to death. i just ain't that high. all your favorite songs wouldn't seem so sad. if you weren't so depressed. elliott smith seems like a mess to me. and you cry way too easily."

That's so good, dude. So good. It's like what it seems like I would write if I wrote in a different manner altogether. One more like the way I speak and think but just briefer, as opposed to storytelling and what I think to be evocative imagery.

Seriously, all of these entries have things I plan on leaving as a strong ending and it just doesn't work out. I could've just ended with the lyric, the "personal apocalypse" bit, or the "nothing ever wraps up" line. My original ending was the thing about wanting dense dreams. Which I still want.