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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| She's sitting in that restaurant. The new one that opened up right next to the Tarot card readers. The Organic swanky one. We're sitting at a couple of tables we've pushed together half-assedly, not unlike ourselves actually. It's my best friends birthday, and i'm drinking some well whiskey. i'm trying to talk to the pretty-girlfriend-of-some-guy-i-should-know-better, but don't. i'm trying to tell her about the new manuscript or book or something, that's being published by the guy that wrote "Lolita". "Isn't he dead?" she asks, and honestly, i'm too drunk to care about anything i've just said and still i'm on my first drink. i look over at this girls boyfriend discussing Ham to someone as if it does deserve the Capitol letter, while i'm listening to this I'm saying "Yeah, i thought he was dead too... weird..." "yeah no, he's dead I'm pretty sure" she say's "no he is died, isn't he?..." But I say it like i'm agreeing with her i think. And i can only assume the look of utter disbelief, or maybe she knows i'm not listening to a goddamn thing i'm saying. "maybe it was his children that are publishing it.." "yea" "i don't know..." and i have this realization of how utterly deprived i am without The Instantaneous. Or maybe depraved. Either way, at that exact moment I look back at her, not at pretty-girlfriend-of-guy-i-should-know-better, but Her with curly red hair. Her over there. It gets real heady real quick. There's a moment of silence I think. Or something goes dim maybe. But it is accentuated. Then it goes back to normal. But I can feel it still, I can literally feel hormones happening, and its freaking me the fuck out! "Hey do you watch Madmen?" I ask in delirium. "Yeah! did you see the finally?" thank god! I contain myself. "yeah, amazin-" and it just goes on for a while. A wave or a cloud maybe, it flows over me and i'm caught up in this strange state where i can't stop paying attention to two things at once. And all the time i'm feeling like i've listened to neither. Finally, "Ok, well we should be going" somebody says. and we go and we drink all of us, and there's a pool game and more drinking, and nicer drinks for some reason now because somehow it seems like a good idea to drink better whiskey i can't afford. and it ends with an awkward handshake and a promise of "Friday?" "Definitely." | | |
| A couple of things. First off, I am just a boy, and as a boy, sometimes I'm going to think about farts making steam in cold weather. Second, I faltered all day long yesterday, and I'm sorry to everyone I pissed off, upset, let down, made uncomfortable, or just wasn't myself around. Third, I don't handle falling in love well at all. I feel physically nauseous sometimes, I get so nervous I shake and can't eat, I'm generally a wreck of a person. I end up focusing intently on whatever girl it is I'm actually interested in until its beyond the point of appropriate. Or I'm so aloof I don't even talk to them, just admire from a distance, and that always ends up so well for me. I hate falling in love, and I hate how much it effects me in a negative way. Because at the and of the day, being in love makes me more relaxed, more easy going, and I am generally a friendlier person to everyone around me (not to mention much more confident in myself) when I'm in love. Being in love is like taking every emotion I ever get, and putting it under the highest powered microscope ever made. Everything gets so distorted. Honestly, I hate that girls effect me like this, and that they're the only thing that can effect me like this.
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| So, i've been reading American Psycho. Its a really fucking well written book. The motifs, the use of stream-of-conciseness, the materialism of it all, its really well done. But its also forced me to look at some of my own 'preppy' tendencies. I didn't always ignore every homeless person on the street. There was a time when i didn't care what was served to me at a restaurant, I was just excited for the event. My own endless obsessions with inconsequential details is the only way I can relate to Patrick Bateman (it's really hard to empathize with a character who has no empathy). Im not the rich upper-class preppy (or psychopath) of the 90's that Bateman is, i don't think you could really get away with that anymore (maybe you can, that's kind of a scary thought...). That said, I think we all share a certain materialistic obsession with Pat Bateman. Secretly, I sometimes find myself wanting to dress as nice as he describes himself, I secretly want to eat the delicious 400$ meals he describes in lush detail. Don't get me wrong, I envy VERY little about patrick bateman, But there is a tinge of guilt that sometimes comes with reading this book. That the book has made me a more honest person, speaks volumes about the author, and I'm learning a ton just from watching him set up character development. Anyway, i'm not necessarily recommending this book, and certainly not during meals. But if you've got the time, and can deal with a seriously twisted character, by all means. I think the good of this book out-weighs the gruesome reality of having a homicidal-rage-a-holic-psychopath as a main character.
Also i wrote about ten pages yesterday for the book I'm writing. I think i'm finally starting to say something important... | | |
| Today was very rainy, it did indeed look like Something out of England, and made me appriciate the emmigration of my Welsh relatives. I was walking back home and I had my hood on, it's a big hooded jacket I stole from my friend who apparently enjoys the feeling of monks robes. Anyway I started listening to this song, Its been running through my head for the past three or four days, Funeral singers by Califone. It's pretty amazing and it had this strange effect on me. Out of nowhere, I just started remembering when I was a kid, I used to love playing in the rain. I used to go outside during thunderstorms and just sit out and play in the rain and build dams in the gutters and slide in the wet grass. It brought me back to that feeling, that unbelievably childlike innocense of enjoying the rain. I couldn't help but act like a kid. I'm sure I looked absolutely insane to anyone watching me, but I didn't care either. I swung on the swings for a while, and balanced on some plastic thing, and then layed down in this field in Southpark for a while and just let the rain hit my face. I felt regressed in the most glorious way possible. I was carefree for a while. I can honestly say this hasn't happened to me in a very long time. not since I flew kites with my Mom, not since I played gutterball with my dad at the pool. Not since I sat in the thunder and lightning and built dams in the pouring rain.
on a side note, played a show last night, it didn't turn out as good as I would have liked, but then, the sound guy was a total douche and I get the feeling he kept turning Taylors monitors down on purpose (if we can't hear each other, it's rediculously easy to get off, and not in the good way). Hope everybody else has a good rainy day, Mine was uncomplicated.
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| I'm prophetic today. hung over and last night never works out for me.
Lonesome is a narcotic. My chest feels like a million pounds of pressure on it.
My friends drift on, my friends drift on.
All I do is shout air, reverberate cold stillness.
All guns are pointed in my direction, all I think,
"how silent they sound".
Everybody's talking shit about everybody, you can't escape your mistakes now. None of us have a chance anymore, thats the real tragedy of growing up. | | |
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