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Tear off your own head
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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Eliot's LiveJournal:

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Wednesday, August 8th, 2007
3:02 am

Friday, August 3rd, 2007
1:01 pm
I can do this...I just don't want to.

Anyone thinking what I'm thinking?

Jake Brown and Spike Lee commercial...

"It's gotta be the shoes!"

12:32 pm
MySpace adventure!
I put new songs up! Squeal like Ned Beatty!

Monday, July 30th, 2007
12:57 am
Saturday, July 28th, 2007
10:52 am
Friday, July 27th, 2007
5:14 pm
Monday, July 23rd, 2007
11:08 am
"Part man, part machine, part mouth."

MY friend Matt eating corn. You do not want to fuck with this man. I'm pretty sure if the zombacalypse happened, he would win.
Friday, July 20th, 2007
4:16 am
You can't outsmart the streets
You can't run a marathon with no feet
What did you just say to me?
I can't hear you at this speed

If you're looking for roses in the dark
You have to feel for the thorns

You can't shave your head to be cool
But you'll still work like a fucking mule
What did I just say to you?
Tell me now, the world will fold soon

If you're looking for roses in the dark
You have to feel for the thorns

Get on the train
Ride unti the streets
All look the same
As roads you'll never see
Pull the brake
And get off now
Get off now

You won't see what you don't believe
You can't just create eternity
What did you just say to me?
Kiss my mouth before it bleeds

If you're looking for roses in the dark
You have to feel for the thorns
If you can't find roses in the dark
You have to feel for the thorns
Thursday, July 19th, 2007
2:30 pm
My roommate's birthday is today. I wish that dinosaur fart were still for sale so I could get that for her...
10:45 am
Oh, what the fuck.
I just had a full feature-length dream. Even the couple times I woke up, I went back into the dream.

Started out as another cabin party. Good amount of peopl were there. Wessel, John, Whitney, Curtis, Missy, Liv, Rachel, Jenny, Rob, AG, Other Elliot...

We were all hanging out, real low key, drinking PBR and smoking, usual cabin party shit. However, the cabin looked nothing like it atually does, beause this is how dreams work. It shouldn't have been familiar at all, but somehow, despite being huge, having a swimming pool, and being new and glossy looking, it was all recognizable and obviously the cabin. Well, everyone's upstairs, and I go downstairs to get something, and I get sidetracked like I usually do, and I sit in a chair for a second to appreciate another cabin party from afar, and lean my head back, and close my eye, and when I open my eyes, it's daylight. Missy's on a couch on the other ide of the room hanging off of it upside down. Curtis is very passed out. I look for everyone. John, Wessel, and Whitney are tinkering around with something in the garden. I join them, we talk about the perfect weather, the cows across the street moo at us and make noises back at them, usual real cabin party happenings.

Then we notice, at the fire pit, with Missy and Rachel, someone who we all used to be friends with, but now everyone has realized is a terrible person, and I won't say her name because I'm not going to talk about someone behind their back on the Internet, but we see her and know she's trouble.

Sure enough, trouble comes. Little by little, more people come to the cabin, people none of us even know, people no one knows, people no one wants to know. We can't tell them to leave, because there's too many, and we can't leave, because they're here. But Jenny, Missy, and AG cut out. I bum cigarettes from a lot of people, for some reason they're aways broken (that has to mean something in dreams, like teeth falling out, or being naked in public), and I talk to Rob for a few minutes while some guy is hitting on him.

This guy is alll over Rob, but I can tell he's trouble. And Rob is trashed, so I tell the guy to "take a hike" like it's my only line in Rebel Without a Cause, and he stops humping Rob's leg or whatever the hell he was doing. Anyway, this party is going on waaayyy too long. It's nighttime again, and after I mingle to at least give it a shot, and talk to a couple pretty girls to see if they'll at least give me a shot, and neither reveals anything good. So the remaining of us, Me, Wessel, John, Whitney, Curtis, Rachel, and Liv, decide to just fucking leave. Now, in the not-dream-world, Matt owns the cabin, so this is probably bad idea, but we had to get out of there.

But then I realize I've left my stuff there, some clothes, toiletries and my guitar, so I try to go back in there, but there are fucking bouncers at the door now who won't let me in. I ask them if they know who owns the place. They say they don't. So I offer to call the owner, and before it starts ringing, a cute blonde I was talking to before vouches for me. So, she gets me in, Wessel picks up, I tell him to call the fucking cops, and I grab my shit and leave. We all cram into Wessel's car, which is actually a 1986 Dodge Caravan, but in the dream land has become a 1988 Ford Crown Victoria LTD. Seven people in one of these was a challenge, but we manage, with people on laps and, for somereason, not wearing many clothes.

We drive, and this is where a lot of things tha tI don't remember happen. Or at least I don't remember why or how they happened, but dammit there were reasons when I was asleep. We get food at a Wendy's, end up in some old jail that is hosting a boxing match in the basement because Liv needs to pick something up, get lost and stop by an old-folk's home to ask for directions, but I get suckered into a conversation with probably the lonliest old woman my subconcious could muster up, and as soon as I start walking away, I start to cry a little. We drive and drive, through desert, forest, snow...it was all very weird. We lost Elliot at one point to the snow or hail or something. It's all starting to blend together now.

BUT EVENTUALLY, we get back to town, but there's some kind of anti-driving protest blocking the way we need to go, and we're sitting in the car discussing if we can drive them over or go around on the sidewalk when a firetruck with sirens blaring makes our decision for us and the people seperate to let him through and we follow. We take a right at the street we need, but notice the bridge is out. So Curtis, who is strangely now driving, guns it and we're going to try to launch over it.

We almost make it, but then realize we're going to need to bail out, so we do, and I guess '88 Crown Victorias come with life preservers standard, but only six, because everyone got one but me. So I swim to the top, but hve no problems, because apparently I can breathe underwater. The river we landed in has swimming pool quality water, and we all throw things at a girl canoeing by until the canoe capsizes.

We sit there in silence for a minute, realizing the car is gone, and I turn to Curtis and say, "Well, it is a perfect day for a swim. We did lose a shit-ton of luggage though. Lot of clothes."
"A lot of clothes," Curtis said.
And then I said, "And I lost my guitar! AH FUCK!"

Then I woke up, and decided not to go back to sleep because that was probably a good place to end it. All and all, that was the longest dream I've ever had, and I know I left out a good three-fifths of it. I'm going to play video games or something now.
2:29 am
Well, I have to write about this because I said I would.
My friend Lydia reveaed tidy that, ass a hild, she thought that "vagine" and "China" were the same word, so she thought bpeople who were Chinese meant they had something ith their vaginas.

Also, PBR is a pretty good friend of mine ,and is my excuse for this posts...
Wednesday, July 18th, 2007
5:43 pm
That's it. Me and my $50 are going to Taco Bell.

After SVU.
5:42 pm
Tuesday, July 17th, 2007
1:22 pm
The Extension of the Ray
These calamitous moments of indecision
Cling to my spine in passionate desperation;
Their decaying breaths pass over my tired eyes
With the ease of winter air through empty branches.
I will bear my shadow until I am submerged
And baptised in the sewers beneath Brooklyn's streets;
Pulling myself from the dross, I will be covered
With filthy soil from which new secrets will bloom.
Take me from this place where machines run on the blood
And discarded memories of my dead children;
The radio towers will collect their screams as
They cry out, "Come to me, the darkness is too much!"
The tar will flow down my limbs, collecting my dreams,
And depositing them in the holes in my feet;
I will let it over-flow, so they may follow.
I will let it over-flow, so they may taste it.
Monday, July 16th, 2007
1:23 am
Someone probably remembers when I used to update.
And they probably care that I don't anymore.

Well, I been thinkin' 'bout doin' it again.

Probably all friends only and shit...but I might even start posting poetry again. Which will hopefully be less painfully long. Or at least less painful.

Tuesday, February 27th, 2007
11:33 am
False alarm on the dropping out. Talked to my professors, and they said as long as I come to class fro now, there won't be any problems. So things worked out for no good reason for me all over again.

I'm writing with a violin/viola player today, for the couple songs I want strings for. Basically, I told her, "Any chord I play, make it minor, and it'll be cool."


Yeah...so recording will happen this Thursday. Presenting the Indefinite EP is almost here! Huzzah!

Why does my life always sound more boring to me when I write about it on LJ?
Sunday, February 25th, 2007
4:58 pm
I'm posting, but I have nothing of import to say. Kind of like driving with no where to go, which isn't a bad thing at all. I just haven't posted in a while. Haven't driven, either. Maybe I should go borrow someone's car and explore Griffy Lake?

Odds of me being forced to drop out: 2-1. Pretty safe bet. I'd lay down five bucks before it becomes 1-1 if I were you. "And if youre getting out...you'd better do it now."

How's your lives been? Comment nd tell me all about it! Or...I'll read your shit. On the friends list.

I'll be recording soon, and when I do, I'll provide a link to the sites, and my e-mail address. So if any of you want me to send you a copy of the demo, which could have 9 or 12 songs on it, as opposed to the shitty four that most sites let me put up, let me know, and I'll send it. For free! Because I don't really care.


Yeah. Them Colts.

Monday, December 4th, 2006
9:12 pm
Wednesday, October 25th, 2006
11:42 am
An obituary in the Washington Post last week:
Harald Lindes, 85, former editor of the U.S. Information Agency's Russian-language magazine Amerika, died Oct. 11 at the Deer's Head Hospital Center in Salisbury, Md. Mr. Lindes worked for the USIA for 21 years, starting under broadcaster Edward R. Murrow during the Kennedy administration. Mr. Lindes retired in 1980, then worked for about five years as a personal assistant to cellist Mstislav Rostropovich, former director of the National Symphony Orchestra.

Mr. Lindes was born in St. Petersburg, Russia. When he was 15, his father was arrested and executed, and his family was exiled to Siberia. In 1939, he returned to study in his native city but in 1942 was arrested by the Stalin regime, sentenced to a labor camp and sent to the Finnish front, where he was captured by the Finns. Because of his German name, he was handed over to the Germans, where he was drafted into the German army.

After World War II, he left Europe and moved to New York and then Monterey, Calif. He became a master sergeant in the Army Reserves and began teaching Russian at what is now the Defense Language Institute in Monterey. He moved to the Washington area in 1958, working briefly for the Voice of America before joining the USIA.

Apart from work, he enjoyed researching his genealogy at the Library of Congress and reading Russian history and works of world culture and religion. He also enjoyed travel and growing vegetables and herbs at his home in Kensington. Survivors include his wife of 60 years, Olga Lindes of Kensington; two children, Nina Willett of Ocean Pines, Md., and Hal Lindes, a guitarist in the rock group Dire Straits, of Los Angeles; and seven grandchildren.
Monday, October 16th, 2006
1:14 pm
Someday, I'm going to sneak onto stage at a Foo Fighters show, and start dancing like an idiot. And when I am inevitably noticed, I'm going to pop a Mentos into my mouth and grin like an idiot.
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