this really isn't worth reading

i meant to go to bed earlier today. i discovered the great joy (tho not as great as un-altered sleep in-itself) of waking up early after going to bed at a reasonable hour. it's not two am and i haven't even started my reading (of kerouac, what else?). i've gotta wake up at 8:30-ish to go with friend to get a geeetar, not sure why. it will be neat tho. today i got very frustrated at a person that gets on my nerves quite a lot, and while i hardly ever see said person, said person makes me want to commit murder (and i am a pacifist!). i hate that i hate. i wish i would be happy and nice and just up-lifting all the time, but i am such an asshole so much of the time. it bothers me. i need to stop just letting things bother me and let that botheredness change my patters of living (or something)(i don't like this song, i dont wanna fuck the cops -bss). there isn't a whole lot to say. i'll be starting my summer job in salem soon, i hope (and yes pray) that my car will not break down, because my car is the bread winner, i'm just the driver. i wanna go to frisco in an rv with my friends and i hope that happens. when i read too much kerouac, which i do, my writing turns into just thoughts, thoughts, and i put to effort into editing them, and i like it and all, but i can't do it like said author can - just going with it being beautiful all the time, mostly it's just going with mine. it's like calling and saying one's own thoughts but imitating someone else's voice when i really need to sleep and read other authors. but i need jesus most!