while jacking off listening to Mozart
you bitch and moan about LA
wishing you were in the rain reading Hemingway…”
Still a good song.
On some real shit, I read like 74 pages of A Farewell to Arms today! WOO! I tried Milton for a couple days, but Paradise Lost is just not a beach book. Besides, I kinda hate myself whenever I pick it up for being so goddamn pretentious.
Bah. I honestly never want to leave here. It’s so beautiful, I love the ocean. This morning it was overcast, and the weather’s been strange all day. Right now the blue sky is partially obscured by ethereal mists, the sun a white blot of dulled radiance – it’s so lovely it’s breaking my heart, making me wish I never had to go to college or live anywhere but beside the sea in a limitless July.
Please, please, can this just be real life? Can I somehow convince everyone I love to move here and get dead end jobs working at gas stations just so I can be by the ocean and be happy? Because I seriously think I could be fulfilled as a person by working just to get by and lying on a beach reading Hemingway for the rest of my life.
intellectualbitchery 