Dear Mark,
thank you for your comments. instead of taking up space or annoying me, as you seem to think youre doing, the messages you leave are always interesting and entertaining to read. especially the last one. i had no idea that peanut butter could be made into diamonds. i went and ate a spoonful of plain peanut butter after i read that (luckily im not allergic). anyway, i really do enjoy your comments. in fact, i enjoy all of the comments i get. writing is easier when you know someone out there reading it cares enough to write back. so feel free to leave more comments. that goes for everyone who reads this thing (which i admit needs to be updated more often).
ps - where can i find your blog?
instincts are misleading - you shouldnt think what youre feeling
hey, could you just stop changing for a minute? just long enough for me to feel like ive got some control over this. but of course change doesnt stop for me or anyone else. it plows through the dust of our lives and sends us flying in a thousand directions. sometimes it sends us flying straight up in the air, disengaging us from reality for one blissful moment, but our heavenward trajectories always crash downward. well i know ive got no control over this. ive known it for a long time now. do i have to accept it? of course not, but i do accept it. the struggle is useless, time consuming, painful. i wish i could tell him that. i wish i could tell him not to struggle, that we are all helpless, that the dust of our lives was not meant to remain unchanged. hey, if we had been meant to remain unchanged, we would have been made of diamonds.
from that same head you have twice removed a lock of hair you said would prove our love would never die. well, ha ha ha.
i dare you to tell me a secret.
pain is only a pulse if you just stop feeling it
fever induced hallucinations. i would write you a letter so long you couldnt even read it, but goddamn ive just got to lay down. just got to put my head down, feel these firecrackers going off inside and laugh without sound at the inward bursts of pain and heat and color. i dont even care anymore. at least im home. at least its quiet. im in a terrific mood despite all of this physical deterioration.
im definitely shaking
if i knew what it is that does this to me i swear i would tell you and every word would ring true, like a photograph. then you would know how to make me feel exactly how you want me to feel.
i saw the future once. i was drunk in a phone booth.
so i tilted the chair back until its weight hit the wall and i rested my head against the cold bricks rough against my hair. the balance was treacherous and the seat slippery cold under my jeans. the jeans rubbed against the skin of my legs; my shoes kicked idly at the metal legs of the desk. i couldnt feel my feet. and i sat there and thought that the morning was shit, and then i drowned in my own selfawareness.
i woke up an hour and a half later and the wind was spitting the rain all over the place in cold pellets that exploded wetly on the back of my neck and i thought that the afternoon was great. i didnt feel anything but cold.
and these clocks keep unwinding and completely ignore everything that we hate or adore
we sat on the dusty metal slabs of bleachers above the dusty tiled floor of the gym and just talked about everything : nothing : past : present : future for an hour and a half. somewhere in the world it was dark : light : hot : cold and somewhere it was day : night but none of that affects us where we sit on dusty metal bleachers. time is immaterial but i can feel it falling in waves around me like a dress falling from my body to the floor leaving me exposed but purified. and im not sure of where the past fades into the present, and i cant predict where the present will fade into the future. it grows even more unpredictable with all of these desires that are rattling around inside of me, noisy like bells. i am attracted to millions of people and i wish i could narrow my focus but at the same time i love it this way with the sense of infinite connections it brings. and of course attraction can mean many things, and, even if her father is unclear about its nature, my attraction to annie is very different from my attraction to boys, and my attraction to boys in general is very different from the specific attractions i form for boys, and those in turn are entirely different from the attraction i feel when i read james joyce or when that guy in the spanish band started wailing on that electric guitar like a reincarnation of a god. so i sit here infinitely far away from anyone associated with the earlier events of the day and type into the distance, "when are you coming back?" and i care about the answer but not so much as you might think. attractions fade quickly. things are different when you are upright and awake and without that fatal heat leaning directly against you. of course i know im leading him on but a sense of pleasure accompanies the sense of guilt. i tell myself that i dont need to worry. i tell myself it wont come to anything. i tell myself that my options are so open its vulgar.
the subway is a porno; the pavements, they're a mess
isnt it funny how life can be so beautiful one second and so horrifyingly ugly the next? no. its not funny at all. cycles - its all about cycles. ups and downs and flipping head over heels until your stomach is in your throat and begging to spill its contents all over the front of your shirt in a putrid and steaming waterfall of misery. i ride the cycles like a giant wheel, a giant circle. my circle is lopsided of late, and i stay on the high ride for good lengths of time until i drop off the edge and the wheel rolls over my prone figure, crushing bones and bursting blood vessels. sometimes my body lodges under the wheel like a wedge and im trapped for hours on end, maybe days. but there are these tiny white dream pills that make me weightless and paper thin. and that fucking wheel cant get to me then. it slides right over top of me. it slides right past. and it cant get me then. oh no it cant it cant. but those tiny white dream pills aint helping now. nothing aint helping now goddamn. one second up one second down. flipped head over heels until my stomach is in my throat. got to get away from the light of the computer. got to get away from you and your no good ideas, my no good attractions. there are things that i want...
