Bullet

I came home from school today, and instead of being greeted by two dogs, I was greeted by one. My mom wasn't home and neither was Bullet. I guess she actually took him to be put to sleep. She could have at least let me say good bye.

Bummin

Last full day of school. For some reason, I'm not as stoked about summer as I should be. I dunno what it is. I should cheer up.

Summer plans.

July 6th. Host a show in my backyard.

July 10th. Total Abuse and Drunkdriver in Philadelphia.

July 17th. Play at 709.

July 19th-July 26th. Staying in Emmaus.

August 15th. Play at 709.

Yeah.

I love playing shows. The last one I played, I played my guitar so hard that I ended up having a scab on my forearm. How does that happen? And I was also playing so hard that my High E string ended up latched under one of my pick ups. I love playing music.

What's the point?

I noticed you quite a lot before I left town with my best friends to hangout with my favorite crowd. I played music for my favorite crowd. I recall almost crying while screaming, because all I could think of was you.

You tried to help me find my binder the other day. I almost exploded when I heard you say my name. I've been so fucked up ever since. What's the point? Why do you pretend to care when I know you don't?

My head hurts. Should I give you forgiveness? Or am I the one who should be apologizing? I'm not sure. I'd probably puke if there was something in my stomach. Perhaps sleep will make me forget.

Travel

It's been a day or so since the show in Bethlehem. And I feel pretty bummed. I miss the road. Being on the road when the weather is nice is absolutely amazing. I don't have much to say here. Dammit.

Show.