buy our uncomfortable footwear and you will be endowed with the ability to toss tennis rackets into the air with the same defiant barbarity as we.

So it appears that converse, long recognized a sacred anti-core institution, has been airing a new tv commercial featuring a bunch of dissidents playing tennis poorly and defiantly throwing their rackets all over the court. Why? Well nobody is sure of the provocation of this peculiar behavior, but by way of inference and extensive speculation, I have theorized that it is perhaps a display of frustration toward their fundamental ineptitude to play tennis properly because they are coordinationally challenged. "coordinationally challenged"...... well, if there is such a condition, they have it. Or, maybe those silly flat-soled canvas shoes of theirs (the cursed product being advertised) produce excruciating foot pain, and in turn induce general irritability. Or, perhaps it's a bizarre unlisted side effect of their prozac, or zoloft or what have you.

A word of advice to converse: fire your fucking marketing strategist.

I sometimes am still able to feel alright.

In what little time I've been socially active, I've managed to transition from happy-go-lucky to sociopathic. Way to go, girl!

What a trigger-happy, self-loathing soul I've become, at once wallowing in self-deprecation and tiring of the grim contemplations about my dismal existence that monopolize my mind.
It was a lapse of judgment, to step out into the world where other human beings are interactive, and not merely zoo exhibitions existing for my whimsy and observation, as I used to understand it: one fateful lapse of judgment that resulted in a million more; it was the fatal error in judgment, the ultimate error in judgment, the warning and preview of things to come that I didn't know to heed back then. oh, look what you have done, bitch.

Following my long overdue reconnection with 3-D world (an absolute adversity, I assure you) while I was involuntarily undergoing psychological realignment, I've emerged a considerably broodier being than before, than I ever remember being before. I'm a little more disenchanted (I've got a little more reason to be), a little bit of a wreckage. Wandering unsuspectingly into lives and places I don't quite belong, into realms where I perhaps may not be wanted. Falling into the abyss of drug and liquor-induced oblivions (without having to personally dabble in drug or alcohol abuse), I've become an enthusiastic advocator of the night-life lifestyle of the mildly blasphemous variety. The adaptive, easy-going creature I am, I let life take me where it may at no sacrifice of my core principles. But deeper and deeper still do I delve into a world of hedonism and slight depravity, wherein even I am engaging in acts of moderate debauchery here and there, and suddenly, without any concept or awareness of how it came to be, surrendering so much of my carefully preserved integrity (and by integrity I do mean integrity; take it at face value and don't misinterpret it as any sort of euphemism or look for any implications that aren't there) and playing the part of a bona fide sinner. Not a grade A debauchee, mind you, only a sinner. How far I managed to have strayed from myself in such a short time and how far my self-opinion has fallen. I should never have stepped out of the safe shade of reclusion.

now where's that reconnection with my inner self, eh?

i'm not dead. despite what the absence of my presence on the internet might suggest.

I went to one of the seediest dive bars in Hell's Kitchen to see the sexy magazines last night, bent on rocking the fuck out. Because no band ever needs another wussy self-conscious fan standing in the front with her arms crossed reluctant to thrash and dance at the risk of looking stupid, easily mistaken for an unimpressed hipster. And because any live act as energetic as that should be rocked the fuck out to. I only risk making an ass of myself for a select few bands, and damn it, they should be one of them because live performances of their caliber demand thrashing. They were never able to elicit any sort of a response from me, and if any band could get a reaction out of me, it only makes sense that it would be them. Damn it, was I that inhibited, that I couldn't find it in me to show some ENTHUSIASM, all the times I've seen them? So I ventured as far north as 40th street (haven't done that in a while) yesterday with my valiant intentions of rocking the fuck out. But then I.... found a diversion.... earlier on in the night and was therefore preoccupied during much of the show. uhhhh.. whoops. next time, though, next time. I will attempt enthusiasm. Yes. (an ambitious feat!)