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Monday, February
24th, 2003 |
9:33
pm |
updates and recent fragments b
slinks his way out of the picture, but interpol was great and even
greater with a midori sour. first taxi, six blocks after trudging
in the rain. rain (and a crucial et cetera) brought wednesday
february 12th dear to my heart. a best friend days later
brought it dearer. this morning still dearer. almost a problem,
almost not there. but entirely everything. i throw it around but
it wraps tightly around my entire body inside & out. hating
my words, words everywhere, wanting to apply them, cut them, shut
them up, lock up my heart-brain that uses them too
fiercely. started writing again, beautiful book, surprisingly
fluid renderings, acid-free paper. book of my life, plus. lisa
will come visit me, i will visit seattle. ran into leila, sat
in a stairwell and talked about fainting and catching up on lost
bits of history. accumulating glass snapple bottles, snickers
bars, and sandwiches out. "save me" and arab strap. lichen
green paint and squares of leftover shades. masturbating guy at
the computer next to me in this vile vile lab. the daily walk:
work, castro, loth, castro, loth, castro, school, cafe, school,
castro, loth, castro, loth. dan, marc, adrian, alee, leah,
hava, krista, ari hope and god. spencer's midnight suns and
blake's and not liking donnie darko's. cheryl's beds and lost
keys and sexy lethargy and talk. my circular thoughts: couch
swings, brown leaf print blankets, portable alarm clocks, heart
clutches, rushes to work, cursed lack of time, tiny spots of skin,
shifting jail i.d. bracelets, desire, fear, graffiti'd arm,
overworn socks, safety pin bag, black zipper no wallet, balance?,
never up before 1, community smoothies, moaning, notes, memories,
why?, mental files, saving of days, unspoken need for information,
spying, stolen mad-libs, crushing heart-brain deafening ears and
silencing voice.
|
Sunday, February
23rd, 2003 |
9:22
pm |
explanations are fragmented enough
and depend on the proper context enough that it is unfitting to
speak candidly about more serious matters such as love or academia
in a format such as this. it's just inappropriate. so the main
things that have been filling my time lately are herein
unspeakable. even the explanation of that borders on the
unnecessary, borders on crude. (my apologies.)
|
Thursday, February
13th, 2003 |
6:35
pm |
spent a day wasting, i know exactly
what i want, been there awhile, was there last night, everything
is done forever, i hope.
Current Music: arab strap. the red
thread
|
Friday, February
7th, 2003 |
5:22
pm |
there is a problem. it needs to be
settled soon or you'll give up entirely, so it seems. you have
written for an hour and you are no closer. you are actually
getting farther into the hole. you will go to sleep, you will
forget your madness, you will forget the pain you write all over
yourself to amplify the significance of your concern. you will
rest through the rising tide. you will forget and move on because
there is no other option.
|
Wednesday, February
5th, 2003 |
8:41
pm |
beds, i wondered where people go
home to and if i could know where they laid their heads to rest
each night of this week, would it be the same place every
night?
i explained to some new friend why i don't smoke. it
makes me crazy. told of how i could see the flashbulb mental
pictures that comprised the beginning of my language acquisition
at some frighteningly early age .. just a year old? and that it
was unacceptable to me to see these things, too overwhelming. not
okay. as scary to me as that one jefferson airplane song. you know
the one. shudders all around. fucking drugs.
if only i
could have so much time to myself.
after reading the
joke i have been overjoyed by the freedoms this country
grants. can say anything. that's the life.
i am a sucker, i
fall for the same people each time. enough variation that it
allows for me to think i'm learning something new. what is it that
does that?
bananas everywhere, they have become such a
commodity. i will bring some to loth and everyone will
rejoice.
i am shit, i won't read the bible, i won't be a
christian, i cringe when i say it but i don't change it.
so many things i haven't introduced myself to, namely
books, but so many of them! joyce sits next to me but i'm not at
my desk.
really interesting the things that make one an
american. steve from england is more of an american than i am. but
i am horrifically american because i hate so many of its ways. how
perfectly i fit here. found my nagging niche. i am so communal;
hah. if i were in a communist society i would curse life every
moment. here i am free to despise the rampant individualism
consumerism every ism but would hate life elsewhere without that
polar anomaly to oppose.
"can't just move to siberia and
that's that." and josh agreed.
hearing keys jingle (what
else can they do?) makes me hella nervous. glad i wrote hella like
i thought it. now am embarrassed. sounds like impatience. sounds
like panic. sounds like time's up. long stretches of time, i
recently noticed, are one of my most favored things in life. long
uninterrupted stretches.
i wrote "plans make me shrink" and
he took me literally. that's cheating.
|
8:04
pm |
leaving out old
items, old to me and old in all time; undermentioned by
me..
current i've-been-away-for-a-month undermentioned
twenty albums. interpol - turn on the bright lights doves -
lost souls mary timony - mountains trail of dead - source
tags and codes pulp - we love life postmarked stamps
compilation on tree records elliott smith - xo elliott smith
- figure 8 cap'n jazz - analphabetapolothology radiohead -
amnesiac radiohead - the bends arab strap - the red
thread belle and sebastian - tigermilk make up - sound
verite modest mouse - building nothing from something modest
mouse - the lonesome crowded west richard ashcroft - alone with
everybody pavement - crooked rain, crooked rain sleater
kinney - call the doctor cat power - moon pix (yes led
zeppelin, yes talking heads, yes rush, yes new order, yes depeche
mode, indeed)
current brain-on-fire undermentioned twenty
books. tropic of cancer - henry miller the castle - franz
kafka kafka's diaries anais nin's diaries amber gayle
anything critical theory ecology essays - editor:
merchant philosophical investigations - ludwig
wittgenstein symposium - plato the bell jar -
plath rootprints - helene cixous (yes lolita nabokov, yes
unbearable kundera, yes ishmael quinn, indeed)
note the
switch.
|
Monday, January
27th, 2003 |
9:48
pm |
disclaimer: i know how i sound, i
get overwhelmed, i am overly aware of being wrong, sometimes i
shout so i believe myself more, so i trust my own voice if i hear
it above all others. time eases that, i must certainly improve.
|
7:51
pm |
differences? feel slightly more
fluid, slightly more sure. but in an old environment it is easy to
fall into old patterns. something i hate about the idea of
patterns, makes me want to keep my social circle of old recurring
friends to a minimum, makes me want to keep moving. and i have. i
have it in my head that moving takes care of something i seem to
want distance from. again, "where do you move when what you're
moving from is yourself?"
visited nan today, got into the
eternal question i come back to every way possible: how to live,
why i feel plagued by guilt and a desire for ascetic social
responsibility, why i resent people for their lack of care about
anything outside of their immediate lives (friends, entertainment,
bah). i never was a person to be very "carefree" ...i have a sense
of seriousness i can't shake. these terms can confuse, i should
clarify a little. i have few cares in life, really, i don't much
get hung up on details, i know i'll be fine, and if i'm not it
will pass. by carefree i mean feeling "free" with no sense of
responsibility about anything. i feel responsible for all kinds of
things that aren't even related to me. the classic carrying the
weight of the world, etc. i cringe at the cliche, but it's
entirely the case. and seriousness. every pleasure i recoil from.
i look it in the face and i really do look away in horror. alone i
can perhaps forget a little, but the presence of another person
really throws me off, makes me hide any form of happiness i may
conjure. anything. i won't dance, i won't sing, i'm nearly frigid,
i cut my laughs short, i leave the room, i stop talking, i become
recalcitrant, non participatory. i enjoy my life immensely but
with every second i recognize that, i feel a tinge of guilt; every
pleasure is lined with this sadness. every one. i scrutinize this
constantly. there is not one single instance where my happiness is
not somehow tainted with the awareness that the world is not set
right, what right do i have to live such a great life while others
don't, how selfish and ridiculous i am to waste time on my
happiness or fulfillment, how many horrible things are happening
all over the world while i do nothing about it. so much suffering;
and i have this beautiful life and nothing in me is ungrateful,
but i agonize over what to do with my good fortune. there is not
one instance where i recognize my happiness without recognizing
how unfair it is for me to have it while others don't. and
there is the question of what is me, is this what i do, should i
try to get rid of the guilt so i can care only about myself? an
emphatic "no" is my only answer, but what then? i should do
some more research about it. i find myself having this
conversation with people who do not agree with me in the
slightest. maybe because the only way i can communicate with these
people is to stand in opposition to their stance on self-and-world
individual-and-collective. and i turn it into this thing where i
try to find in them if and how they have guilt for not feeling
like i do about these matters. usually they think something is
wrong with me. "just stop worrying about it," "it's not your job
to fix," "you should see a psychotherapist." really. "just stop"
means nothing, if it's not my job then whose is it, and is it
really maladjusted of me to not see myself as separate from the
world, in part responsible toward it? we don't live in a
vacuum, this is a social world, our decisions affect other people,
the environment, etc. you are A PART of the world, you get
something from it and you SHOULD give something, too. and i don't
mean to just have good kids, that's not branching out, that's just
perpetuating your own life. these things seem like inalienable
truths to me. everywhere i go i either hear explicitly or
implicitly that i am wrong. and not only wrong, but stupid. yeah,
sounds like i do need a shrink, talking like "no one understands
me, but i'm not crazy, they are." so easy to inadvertently adopt
the rhetoric of a lunatic. it's not even that i particularly
care about "other people" ..i don't even know what that would
entail. but i do have concern over the boundaries that SHOULD be
around my life. how much i want to allow myself. and i think i
have more than enough money and material possessions. of course
living in a consumer society, no one really GETS that sense of
"this is enough, i stop here." but i stop. within the culture i
live in what i am saying sounds weird, anomalous. but don't people
within this culture at least see the FACT that our lifestyle is
EXORBITANT and ANOMALOUS in the scope of history, of the rest of
the world even today? time passes and i learn more, but i
really don't see me doing a complete turnaround and all of a
sudden "stop caring." i feel like it's just an extension of how i
know to love. i think i am perhaps more capable of love than
anyone i've ever met, though you wouldn't know it because i don't
get attached to people, i don't hang on, i don't try to own what i
appreciate. but my capacity for appreciation is immense. and i've
examined it like no one else i know, it's critically developed and
i know it. these things i think about my rightful fair place in
the order of things feels like more than some guilt trip because
i'm depressed or hate myself or some other petty thing. i just
want to share -- it's that basic. i want other people to reach the
mental heights i get to. i want other people to have great lives.
and they can do that even in a fucked up society, etc., though for
my own purposes (yes this is still about my self) i want
the luxury of knowing that i am working to improve things, that i
have an extended sphere of concern, that i am fair and just,
ideally that i live in a world with other people who want these
things. i haven't been depressed at all since i lived in
lothlorien. for a simple reason, that it gives me some sense of
hope. walking down the street has always had the tendency to make
me sad, shopping bags and cell phones and people PRETENDING they
have no responsibility to anyone but themselves, people FORGETTING
pain and suffering and indulging themselves in entertainment and
excess. i get overwhelmed by bitterness. the only way i am okay
with it is when i forget. and i don't want to have to
forget just to be happy, then i'm doing just the thing that
started my being sad in the first place. i pick people's
brains about it all the time. i need to do some more picking. some
more experimenting. i could spend years stuck on this. it's a
stress, a stress that comes from something that's about to break.
Current Mood:
everything Current Music: doves. the last
broadcast.
|
Thursday, January
16th, 2003 |
12:01
am |
"i have desires but not
expectations"
|
Wednesday, January
15th, 2003 |
10:52
pm |
done good things at home
come in many varied forms. primarily i look forward to the
company of a select select select few people/person, re-settling
and taking care of my possible move to budapest for later in the
year, easier living which means not searching for food and shelter
for hours a day, consistency to a larger degree, time in a
familiar place i adore, the simplicity of going to classes (within
the week), and working, smoothies, up-all-nights, who i will meet
in my new place, letters to steve now that i know him, letters all
around because maybe i'll have something new to say after having a
different type of information set to work with, a new journal (the
best one, with the great story attached to it, that i'd invested
all my "good" writing in got nicked in the blasted paris metro
weeks ago), enlivened randomness, stories to myself. no more long
days of time zones. after seeing live theatre and gorging on food
(pretending the pound signs are dollars), no sleep for reasons
worth reexamining, curiosity suspense and reserve, a perfect walk
through nowhere-pastures, and a new-old friend in a bmw driving me
to the tube, to my feet running to a plane, then in the air across
bodies of water to another country, to a bus, a train, a metro,
walking, sleeping in the paris shakespeare & co bookstore and
an easyinternet cafe. i list them because they are so unusual
still. using the words helps make these things seem more real,
simple, tedious. renders them flat, own-able. but the things i
come home to aren't varied, they have a unifying theme, quite
simply that they are the constant identity that remained despite
my leaving it in berkeley. i come back to it, reexamine it, work
out a quirk or two, and resume, if only a little changed. and i
get to live through so many things i have only been imagining
myself doing -- before, i imagined being me here, away; while away
i imagine myself being back at home. big switch though no
different. i take home new stories and bits of information, a new
(close?) friend, other distant ones, places and their
corresponding cognitive maps, and a renewed desire for what greets
me upon my return. these things can't be quantified; i can't say
it is priceless or without price, i can't measure it like that, of
course, nor should i, but it certainly comes with a larger weight
than i'm used to, and i don't know the implications there. but i
wanted to try. and i did. and for that i have succeeded, though
what i have won is of course intangible and borders on a void of
its own.
Current
Music: mr. dan (playing in my mind from last
night)
|
Sunday, December
29th, 2002 |
10:32
pm |
and where am i now? skipping around,
really. (and always looking for something more.) today i read
in kundera "a thread stretched across no matter how tiny or
fragile" or something to that effect. i underlined it with a
thread of blue ink. or was it red?
Current Music: unwound.
leaves turn inside you
|
Thursday, December
26th, 2002 |
9:14
pm |
qnd zhile it looks like i q, zriting
in code; i zill qdd thqt zhile this chester felloz thinks he ,qy
be µonµ to ,e, little does he knoz thqt it is i; insteqd; thqt
brought hi, zith ,e: certqinly it ,qy see, to ,e thqt it is q sign
thqt he thinks like i do 9qbout one thing qt leqst0 enough to drop
his nnq,e qround like he didù he; in his off ti,e; prozling qround
online; trqcing ,e: hqh1 i hqve been trqcing hi, in ,y ,ind; zhile
,iles upon ,iles qzqy: he is trqcked: he speqks in code; i speqk
in code; the entire thing is encoded; thqt is the only
intelligible pqrt: of course it is perfect this zqy; of course i
intend on spoiling it zhen i return ho,e: spoiling it in the best
zqy possible; i hope; but spoiling it nonetheless: or not: perhqps
it is not the necessity i hqd qlzqys thought it to ,e: ,qybe he
zill prove ,e zrong:
|
9:04
pm |
pqris life back at home
means it's eleven in the morning. am breaking some plans in order
to make new ones. am being tracked and followed in the realm
before me in this easyinternet cafe. if i don't take care to watch
my normal typing processes, it zill look like i cqnùt zrite qt
qll; these qrenùt typos; they qre the results of french
keyboqrds: iù, sick of being cqreful zhen i type: i
zonùt: pqris drqzs to q close; i q, sorry for thqt ,uch: i hqve
no clue zhqt to do next qnd it zeighs ,ore heqvily on ,y heqrt
thqn iùd like to qd,it: i see zhy ,qny people never trqvel; itùs
tiring qnd stressful: but so rezqrding1 qh; but endurqnce is such
q fqctor: it is good to be qzqy; it is qlso good to be ho,e: i
hqve q zhile to go for thqt ,uch; though:
|
Saturday, December
21st, 2002 |
7:16
am |
old bio i removed because i dont
like the clamor of it between the lines it said "please like
me" i am less convinced now than ever. its okay but i just
want some quiet. it may shrink life a little but being so
noisy about myself seems overwhelming right now.
"about you" living for moments and beauty. trying to
be young, smart and lighthearted in perception; flexibility and
integrity gaining importance; trying like hell to grow and learn
in the best way possible, on the quest for improvement; seeking
out new terms to define myself by; attempting to eradicate
pretention and falsehoods while embracing intelligence and
confidence (that's the tricky part); trying to find the highest
values, and then apply them to my life; being amazed at the
slightest of things, so much seems a miracle to me now, my eyes
are nearly that new; changing; getting practice at "getting the
balance right;" a sesquipedalian train-wreck.
"what you
like" all, appreciating, articulating, being alive, being
amazed, being happenin', being okay, berkeley, books, braid,
bread, bright eyes, britpop, burn collector, cat power,
creativity, elliott smith, existence, genuinity, good, hand-made
stuff, helium, indie, ishmael, learning, led zeppelin, letters,
life, lisa simpson, living, modest mouse, music, nature, not
working, passion, pavement, philosophy, photography, pulp,
quality, radiohead, randomness, reading, records, redlands, rinne,
rockin' out, rush, sun, sunny day real estate, tattered pages of
words, the verve, thinking, weird stuff, words,
writing
Current Music: unwound. leaves turn inside
you
|
Monday, December
16th, 2002 |
6:57
pm |
more chapstick, more nervous
spying, more cold fingertips on the back of my neck more
watching the clock fucking tick away my life "no food or
drink" and im in my own self deprivation tank but i wont
drag myself out of here why now do i notice a pattern
|
6:54
pm |
snippets, bits of something
else comprise this space of a brain and its subsequent
devouring in upon itself snippets, bits of something
else thats what im working from a collage i have not
any pieces of my own and do not know what it means to
generate them
|
6:43
pm |
redress (notes for self): moving
again, castro stephen phone, all comes back, thats not me
anymore (see the difference?) "another year older and deeper in
debt" another house affair, where is this going (never know
what i want, still somehow get it) "calls calls calls, calls
from the public" "no eat no drink no money have i
not" walletless and irritated time, no time, stolen time, no
time, hunger cramped, sick (such a great doctor) "too many
women, too many pills" papers, so much wasted, ack fucking
bell jar fucking everything in the kitchen are tom petty and
johnny cash but im fine.
|
Sunday, December
15th, 2002 |
12:37
pm |
million things at once i dont
care time will pass it goes away something else in its
place of course of course is there even anything to say
about this? no, and its not said well leaving no trace in
the mind passes through like anything else thats what i do,
actively doing it now just passing “where do you move when
what you’re moving from is yourself?”
|
Thursday, December
12th, 2002 |
11:03
am |
no no no notice the
difference cracking up [] or something like it, whats the
difference never made sense anyway how it could be real,
unreal and does it happen to me "or is it something i do to
myself" this isnt me, isnt anything still everything still
subsumes everything sounds like nonsense? not real not
real/real and if i do go off the deep end--
|
Thursday, November
14th, 2002 |
12:34
am |
followed home today by mr. x.
talked about rhetorical incapacitation, verbal futility,
abolishment of language, like rhetoric students are apt to do.
sat on roof, been awhile since there was talk of horrible
useless language vices. thoroughly random like so many abfab
postcards. drank tea ate persimmons on porch with alee and guitar.
was exactly what it was, nothing beyond referencing an equally
brief bout of randomness a year ago. how acquaintences should be;
fun and then gone.
|
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