sick of xanga

So basically I am just bored of xanga and its pathetic design. This is my new home, and the hone of my random absurd ramblings about my ridiculous opinions and over the top musings. Regina Spektor is singing quietly in my ear and my bed is whispering my name in it's subtle too-easily-ignored tones. A siren is leaking in through the window mixing with the drum solo at the end of "Fidelity". And it breaks my ha-ha ha ha-ha ha heart.

The thoughts in my brain are like shooting stars whizzing around above my body, uncatchable and useless, but occasionally beautiful and enjoyable. My body is pleading with me to put it away in its two-sheet pillowed home. And so I will. Goodnight fools, enjoy the coffee.