so i've taken to updating this diary deal whenever the impulse strikes. nothing happens to me though.. and i, in turn, happen to nothing and no one. so you can imagine just how thrilling it is for me to sit here and *tac-a-ta-tac-a-ta-tac* away all sound and fury (or barely that) and still be hit with the next line.. the next thing rushingn to be a signifier of nothing.. right.
alright so i've got this pain in my right forearm muscle just below the crook space on my arm. yea, what the hell?! its this throbbing thing.. or this puncturing thing. like i'm being stuck, intermittently, with invisible needles. I'm fearing the worst. for instance, what if my little feuling mishap this morning caused some serious thing to happen to the nerves or the tissue or the muscle or the very bones there!!
ok. panic attack over. melodrama (as i'm sure b would call it, if he were in fact reading this damn thing)
so i'm worried and worrying but you know what? i can do piss-all about it.. about any of it. "it's outta my hands" or so the saying goes.
so i'm going to be this much closer to thirty by the end of this week.. or actually by saturday. i'm going to be a few measely (measly?) pubic hairs away from the big three-zero. and what the hell do i have to show for my life..?
i'll tell you what.. or.. hmm.
maybe i won't, at that.
i mean really. what've I of all people got to complain about, y'know?
i've got some of the best group of friends (and family.. hell the words are really pretty interchangable at this point); i'm surrounded by love (and heat-- oops i meant to type hate, but heat works too) and madness and normality and beauty and effort and struggle and success and failure and the gorgeousness of all the people and all the times and all the attempts and the unspoken in-betweens and the terror and the paranoia and the courage and the doughnuts (spelled correctly) and the dirty jokes and the panic and the whirling world about me.. its great.
i've still got most of my wits about me; i've got the full use of my arms and legs (within reason); i've got bad pictures (as theron says) remind me of the times when i've been at my worst (lowest?) enough to make me grateful (greatful?) for all the times i've managed to hold everything in and back so as to always look fresh and young (even when i feel old and defective --ok so that last part really wasn't a direct quote.. what? i like to infer things dammit. i'm allowed)
i've still got the capacity to love and beg and feel humiliation and guilt so deep it actually penetrates into physical possibilities (ok. now go back and read that last sentence again.. digest it, it really isn't as bleak or charred a thought as it might first read.. if it even makes sense..)
i still dream and remember them; i still feel afraid and hesitant and worried but i don't sit and soak in it all day long either. and that's progress in my book.
i'm not really all that up-tight about sex/sexuality although i would love to wake up one morning and really be that sensuous, relaxed, person who won't one-day be shocked or distraught to the point of some spontaneous disease, disorder or malfunction. i mean, who wants to be so stressed, or on-edge or irritable or bored or frustrated or unhappy that my mind fails or my kidneys rot..? i mean, c'mon, right?
then again, y'know, i don't want to be so content and so good and so healthy that become like the Eloi y'know, of HG Wells, Time Machine, fame? ((y'know?)) i mean and they were raised by the Morlocks (why the hell am i writing about this) as a source of food. no hell no! i don't want to be a staple diet to some growing band of cannibals.. and/or evil bakers. who wants that..? i mean c'mon.
[sidenote: for the record.. the evil baker thing was me, not HG wells]
so ok.. so i don't even remember why i started making this update. i mean i don't even remember what started me out.
i'm sitting here.. not at the center of the Universe, so much as the way off-center of the Universe. it's lunchtime. i have "class" today at two pee. two bloody pee! i mean. and all we are pro'lly going to end up doing is talking, reading, drinking.. possibly eating/grazing. its just that kind of class. its the last class meeting, for the course, of the quarter. achk (ack? in a tinge of affected scottish) what am i gonna dooo..? i don't know how to be with these people in this "community" of writers n' artsy fartsy brooding, restless, anxious, sexy types. i'm the freakin square peg of the bunch for cryin' out loud! i'm the freakin strained peas in the lovely creme broulet (brew-lay phonetically speaking..any french stars wanna help me with that one?) of these my life and times.
screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaammmm!!!
and you know.. all of that.. all of that and i sit here. all of that and i sit here ruining my back-- straining my back from the hours upon years that sitting or pausing or frozen.
and the bus just keeps on bumping.
in the air: the ambient, uncaring sound of nine hundred fingers typing, the swish of a pair of hurried walking pants and the cartoon laugh of someone scientific meeting with a group of his peers discussing in the "quiet room" nearby.
i'm burnt
and i'm spent
but am i burnt AND spent?
or was i spent before i was burnt..? gah! meh! feh..
11:51 a.m. - 2003-12-04
Recent entries:
oday.html">the 3 month countdown begins - 05 May 2018
anothrburst.html">another burst - this used to be my playground
newlife.html">begin at the beginning. - 10 April 2008
moody.html">a blanket for a bad mood under the sun. - 25 March 2007
emilludwig.html">...kissing a fool... - 05 December 2006
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