rock wit me

I’ve been sleeping for the whole day, I woke up and the first thing that shot through me was my stomach grumbling violently. I’m not sure how many hours its been peevish, all I care is that I was in Neverland, flying with the lost boys. Then, I saw my ever-reliable celphone (you don’t know how many times it had shed its life); I wanted to text him and tell him how much of an idiot he is. And I almost reconsidered my cousin’s offer of tormenting him, Kurt Cobain and his superficiality. Hah!

Its like this, the other night while boredom was at its peak in my system, a silly thought entered my silly mind: search for Kurt Cobain in Friendster. I was confident that it wouldn’t turn out any result—well, not at least with his information. But with my great shock and dramatic outburst…he had one. And stupid enough, it had his picture in it. That made me almost run to the toilet. All I could think was ARRRRGGGHHHHH! And all the other incoherent mutterings of a deranged person.

I like him—a lot (or should I say, I liked him?). He’s the first guy I liked after my tectonic-plate-moving-crash-and-burn relationship with another idiot. And I have specifications and conditions.

Is it wrong to have standards especially for the person that you’re going to offer almost all of your time? Boyet greatly disappointed me. He has a Friendster account. I know, I know that im being so overly dramatic about this.

My point here is that, if you’re going to present a specific persona or crowd like rockers in a grunge band, you at least have to act like a full-pledge rocker-in-a-grunge-band, meaning: NO FRIENDSTER or anything jolog-ic manifestations or affiliations (so what if I have friendster? I like the stuff that the ‘indie’ crowd has). That, being a rocker with tattoos, hair not shorter than your Mom’s and the only color recognized are the shades near oblivion—black, you must uphold the reputation and bring forth unity amongst all the other rockers who’s been zealous and protective of your mutual crowd. You do not allow any infestations of psuedo-rockers that after slamming, jamming, and a ton of head banging with co-rockers, ends up wearing the over-baggy pants and the cap worn backwards like Eminem. I know, I’m protective of my own social crowd and reputation—I’ve become an anti-social person so, I protect myself therefore, I’m my own crowd.

My friends look at me in wonderment, asking why I’m making a big of a deal out of this ‘unexpected’ circumstance. I just look at them in contempt and full of hostility. Its just plain wrong. And they back off. Message received.