because I feel like I swallowed a big bowl of bad barbituates.
I'm just going to be moping around and moaning out loud and whining in the corner and pouting unproud for a while. To the point where people I don't know start shouting, "Beeyatch, get a Fricking Grip, man!" Can't help it: I'm a big lazy baby who sets himself up for Heartache time and time again. Too many romantic comedies as a child, too many books devoured, too many happy endings...my life is compared against lies and fiction and my own imagination; Nothing comes easy, Life does not.
But I never learned that lesson. I am a Bitter and Cynical Child. So much Unlearned, Unexperienced, and Unseen. And I don't see that I ever will (at this point).
I am Haunted by those Mushroom Visions of 1993/1994: "You are a Hub for Others, Nothing stops on you." And "Dead by 35."
Dead by 35.
Dead by 35.
Dead by 35.
So much Unlearned, Unexperienced, and Unseen.
These meds aren't working, this shrink talks too much, I cycle and recycle events and situations...it's all Revolution, never Evolution. My treadmill goes on and on and on.
But:
All this is overblown, melodramatic exaggeration of my mind and soul; when you have Nothing, you make a Moutain out of a Mole Hill.
Every.
Time.
You shed tears over people you never Knew. You dream ahead of reality. You pretend things are getting better when they're not. You pretend you've found Hope. You pretend you don't know how this is All Going To End. You believe in your own Lie. And you hate yourself for it when it falls apart again and again.
Nothing matters, nothing matters, No Things Matter.
Why can't I actually believe that?
I hate being passive-aggressive, but I am (and am trying to change).
My heart feels like this and my life feels like it's in a constant state of this.
(Thanks for the perfect imagery, Beautiful Decay)
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
I need to work on my Dialogue
This mash-up (opens Quicktime player) seems to almost capture the mood (via Don't waste the pretty).
The thick, hot, wet air hung heavy in the apartment. I tried watching the News, but it was all Fire, Rape, and Cut Throats. I couldn't deal, couldn't focus. My skin itched and burned and bubbled. The cushion/blanket/pillow I sprawled on wouldn't give me comfort, no matter how many times I punched and twisted them. I turned the TV off and moved to The Cube.
Lilly is flat on the wood floor, breathing slowly. Too hot for petting. The air refuses to be pushed by the Box Fan next to the purple chair. It just hangs Heavy and full of Unshed Tears. I slowly sip my drink, the many Cold Cubes kiss my lips then slid away.
"Hot enough for ya?" He said behind me. I hadn't heard him come in, but knew he'd been around, that he'd been lingering about quietly for a few days now in the darkened corners and the inner shadows. "Need a refill?"
"Yes, please."
He took my glass from my hand and headed into the kitchen. I could hear the Cubes clink and rattle from ice tray to glass. His strode heavy, but noiselessly back with one drink extended and one drink for himself.
"A toast to you, my friend." He said tapping our glasses together and smiling sadly, "welcome me back; it has been too long."
We drank slowly staring at each other, sizing, or rather, re-sizing each other up; getting reacquainted with the presence of each other. Many years had past since I last sat with him and shared a drink. Six years, maybe seven. So much had changed, yet so little at the same time (however the cliche goes). He seemed about the same, maybe a little darker, a little older, a little more intimidating. Yet he still had that ability to pull you in, to consume all your attention, to make you think about things "unthinkable." Endings and Never-endings, the same old story of mine.
"Did you miss me?"
"Fuck you."
He closes his eyes and laughs hard, head thrown back. "Ah, ever the eloquent speaker, no?" he tips his glass toward me, "come now, surely you can't mean that. Without me in your life, you have Nothing going on."
"Please, go away."
"Why would you say such a thing? Do you not like the company? Do you prefer to be completely Alone? We have known each other for so many many long years. You wouldn't know how to be without me around."
"You hurt me deep, everytime. You make me tired and shy and sad. I have trouble speaking, forming words and getting the breath to push them out of my mouth. I accomplish Nothing. I spend all Time focused on You. I feel dragged down from the Inside. Please go."
"But I cannot. I am a part of you. I am intertwined in your blood and flesh, your very DNA." He paused letting this sunk in, knodding. "We will only part when you die."
"I know." I sighed. "Will you at least get me another drink?"
"Of course, my brother."
As he again re-filled our glasses, he shouted out from the kitchen, "Hey, what was that you said the other day when you were thinking about me? About the sun and moon?"
"When the Moon is full, it is full because the Sun Shines on it. I only observe the phenomenon. I don't recall how to be the Sun."
"Ah, yes. I liked that very much. I am sorry, but I don't think you shall ever be the Sun or the Moon. But you'll always have me for many years to come, right?"
I couldn't answer. I just stared at the floor, gripping my glass tightly.
I hoped he didn't see the tear.
The thick, hot, wet air hung heavy in the apartment. I tried watching the News, but it was all Fire, Rape, and Cut Throats. I couldn't deal, couldn't focus. My skin itched and burned and bubbled. The cushion/blanket/pillow I sprawled on wouldn't give me comfort, no matter how many times I punched and twisted them. I turned the TV off and moved to The Cube.
Lilly is flat on the wood floor, breathing slowly. Too hot for petting. The air refuses to be pushed by the Box Fan next to the purple chair. It just hangs Heavy and full of Unshed Tears. I slowly sip my drink, the many Cold Cubes kiss my lips then slid away.
"Hot enough for ya?" He said behind me. I hadn't heard him come in, but knew he'd been around, that he'd been lingering about quietly for a few days now in the darkened corners and the inner shadows. "Need a refill?"
"Yes, please."
He took my glass from my hand and headed into the kitchen. I could hear the Cubes clink and rattle from ice tray to glass. His strode heavy, but noiselessly back with one drink extended and one drink for himself.
"A toast to you, my friend." He said tapping our glasses together and smiling sadly, "welcome me back; it has been too long."
We drank slowly staring at each other, sizing, or rather, re-sizing each other up; getting reacquainted with the presence of each other. Many years had past since I last sat with him and shared a drink. Six years, maybe seven. So much had changed, yet so little at the same time (however the cliche goes). He seemed about the same, maybe a little darker, a little older, a little more intimidating. Yet he still had that ability to pull you in, to consume all your attention, to make you think about things "unthinkable." Endings and Never-endings, the same old story of mine.
"Did you miss me?"
"Fuck you."
He closes his eyes and laughs hard, head thrown back. "Ah, ever the eloquent speaker, no?" he tips his glass toward me, "come now, surely you can't mean that. Without me in your life, you have Nothing going on."
"Please, go away."
"Why would you say such a thing? Do you not like the company? Do you prefer to be completely Alone? We have known each other for so many many long years. You wouldn't know how to be without me around."
"You hurt me deep, everytime. You make me tired and shy and sad. I have trouble speaking, forming words and getting the breath to push them out of my mouth. I accomplish Nothing. I spend all Time focused on You. I feel dragged down from the Inside. Please go."
"But I cannot. I am a part of you. I am intertwined in your blood and flesh, your very DNA." He paused letting this sunk in, knodding. "We will only part when you die."
"I know." I sighed. "Will you at least get me another drink?"
"Of course, my brother."
As he again re-filled our glasses, he shouted out from the kitchen, "Hey, what was that you said the other day when you were thinking about me? About the sun and moon?"
"When the Moon is full, it is full because the Sun Shines on it. I only observe the phenomenon. I don't recall how to be the Sun."
"Ah, yes. I liked that very much. I am sorry, but I don't think you shall ever be the Sun or the Moon. But you'll always have me for many years to come, right?"
I couldn't answer. I just stared at the floor, gripping my glass tightly.
I hoped he didn't see the tear.
Monday, June 06, 2005
I am so livid angry, pissed off now
I had a whole dialogue typed out about tonight and, my Fucking, cocksucking, fart-eating, sulfur fire shooting computer fucking crashed!
I am so pissed, I could literally beat a body to a pulp. I want to sledge hammer this piece of shit to the ground.
It involved an entire dialogue with myself and the heavy black sadness of my past.
For once, I was actually pleased with the telling of the story. Secrets were threaded throughout. Hints and History bleeding through your monitor.
But God and Microsoft and Gateway decided to pull together censor that shit.
I am soooooooooooooo pissed off right now.
I am so pissed, I could literally beat a body to a pulp. I want to sledge hammer this piece of shit to the ground.
It involved an entire dialogue with myself and the heavy black sadness of my past.
For once, I was actually pleased with the telling of the story. Secrets were threaded throughout. Hints and History bleeding through your monitor.
But God and Microsoft and Gateway decided to pull together censor that shit.
I am soooooooooooooo pissed off right now.
Book List!
Here is what I bought at the Brandeis Used Book Fair:
- Books One, Two and 3 of the Star Wars X-Wing Series
(one of my guilty pleasure readings)
- Four books by Terry Brooks
as I liked The Sword of Shannara Trilogy
(that I read as 3 separate editions)
- Two books by Roger Zelazny
because I am a huge fan of his Amber Chronicles
- Woody Allen's Getting Even
- Mary Shelley's Frankenstein
(never read it)
- Franz Kafka's The Trial
- Fydor Dostoyevsky's The Possessed
- Friedrich Nietzshe's Twilight of the Idols/The Anti-Christ
- Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar
(move over, girl, and pass the stones; or was it in the oven?)
- Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-five or The Children's Crusade
- Norman Mailer's The Naked and The Dead
- Stephen Chbosky's The Perks of Being a Wallflower
- Adam Davies' The Frog King
- Laura Shaine Cunningham's Beautiful Blondes: A Novel
(For the record, I prefer Brunettes, thank you)
- David Benioff's The 25th Hour: A Novel
- Lauren Weisberger's The Devil Wears Prada: A Novel
- Adam Langer's Crossing California
- Emma McLaughlin & Nicola Kraus' The Nanny Diaries
- Alex Garland's The Tesseract
- Plum Sykes' Bergdorf Blondes
(yes, I read Chick Lit. I've even read Sex & The City!)
- Nicole Mones' Lost in Translation
- and, finally, Grant Naylor's Red Dwarf
And three movies for cheap on VHS (hope the work):
- "About Last Night"
- New York Stories
("Life Lessons" is the best of the 3)
- and The Last Days of Disco
(because I love Whit Stillman
works)
Don't worry, there should still be some left for all yooz guyz.
Coincidence? Or ruled by the stars?
I don't really put much stock in astrology, but the wording of this seems too verbatim after my last two posts (from The Village Voice):
PISCES (Feb. 19–March 20): I invite you to try an exercise in creative pretending. Ready? In all the ways you can imagine, stop thinking that you're outside, and instead visualize yourself as inside. In other words, suppress your tendency to fantasize that the good stuff is out of reach and hard to get. Picture yourself as being right in the midst of it. End your sense of exile and come all the way into the heart of every matter. If you do this meditation 10 minutes a day for the next seven days, by this time next week the world will already be changing to match the vision you've been building.
PISCES (Feb. 19–March 20): I invite you to try an exercise in creative pretending. Ready? In all the ways you can imagine, stop thinking that you're outside, and instead visualize yourself as inside. In other words, suppress your tendency to fantasize that the good stuff is out of reach and hard to get. Picture yourself as being right in the midst of it. End your sense of exile and come all the way into the heart of every matter. If you do this meditation 10 minutes a day for the next seven days, by this time next week the world will already be changing to match the vision you've been building.
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