Red Sky

As I was going to bed last night (Really, this morning, as it was 3 AM), I looked out the window and saw that the sky was glowing red. Red of passion, or red of anger? Red of fire, red of love, red of hate. All different sorts of red. It was beautiful.

Today I saw Where the Wild Things Are. Me and the boy were supposed to go see it weeks ago, but I guess we ran out of time. It was really cute, artsy, touching, and definitely not a kids movie. Not that there was anything bad in it, but the situations were very mature and kids wouldn't understand. It was great, though. I don't remember if I read the book... I wasn't into kid books when I was a kid.

Bleh, that's all I do is read. Read and paint. Read and paint and spin. I need new hobbies. Me and Sarah need to go work on our unfinished zombie film and on Yarnboy. That one will make us famous someday. Ha ha.

Tomorrow will be busy. I need to go buy stuff to make my new chocolate caramel pretzels and buy secret santa nonsense. Then I'll go see the concert at school. I told Scott I'd go see his concert tomorrow, but my school is better than yours, so mine wins. Ha ha, sorry man. I was so looking forward to seeing you in a dress.

There was something else I wanted to write about... I dunno. I found this cool skate park/dog park by the Lewisville dump. I want to go to it again because it's really cool. The place is swarming with boys and dogs: what could be better? Ha ha, kidding. Skater boys are tools. I need someone artsy who understands creativity. Music, art, dance, theater, writer, whatever: they all work just fine and know what's up.

I finally wrote an email for Sealy so he'll sign my paper to get me out of winterguard. About damn time. Although I watched Duncanville's final video and felt this really sad twinge of pain. I remembered contests: how much fun they were, how much they sucked, bus buddies, sneaking phones around, sitting in the stands, and eating giant cookies. Ha ha, me and Heather used to always get mad at our boys because they were being dumb and ignoring us. And then Scott would yell at us and tell us how much our show sucked even though we were all really happy with it. Oh marching season. I miss you.

Time to go take out trash and shower. Maybe read or write or draw. Something.

I found two notes and taped them to my wall behind my bed. I've almost got them memorized.

xx The Islander Marz