Roadtripping At The Gates Of Hell

Well now the ocean speaks and spits and I can hear it from the interstate
And I'm screamin' at my brother on a cell phone, he is far away
I'm saying nothing in the past and future ever will feel like today
Until we're parking in an alley just hoping that our shit is safe.
-Bright Eyes

In an hour I will be off to the beautiful and lovely Charleston, SC for a few days, to shop and play on the beach and see Jump, Little Children. Much fun, it seems, will be had by all.
See ya in a few days, Alpharetta. Wish you were here.

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you.

Nothing of note to say-- mostly because nothing new or interesting ever happens to me anymore, ever. Just that everyone who hasn't should please go listen to Fix You off the new Coldplay CD. You don't have to go buy the CD-- God knows I didn't, rather stole six or so MP3s off it from Melissa via AIM-- but find a way and listen. Preferably with big headphones if you can. The middle part is just like whoa.

Maybe if you're really good and obedient I will make something interesting happen to me so that I can write all about it on my poor, poor neglected blog. I can't make any promises for now, but I can promise that later in the summer there will be things to write about i.e. a certain 20th birthday, the release of a certain sixth novel of a certain series, and a roadtrip to a certain Southern city that is neither Atlanta nor Athens. Those should prove excellent inspiration, at least. Here's to July.

P.S. The owner of whatever unknown 678 number that called my cell phone early this morning (last night, really) at 4:52 AM, 4:54 AM, and 4:56 AM deserves to die a fiery death. Thank you.