i can't focus on anything. but i have to focus. i have to focus on everything. my knee hurts, my right knee hurts. my eye balls are dry. there is a conversation going on in this room. my brother (or half brother) and his child. i have found it difficult to speak to a screaming child. but then i, myself, can be just that, a screaming child.
my eyeballs are dry. i need rewetting solution but i don't have any, not anymore. no visine either. just me, here, constantly blinking at the sickening pastels of this screen. me, blinking at this infuriating white square space that is asking to be filled and filled and filled with my words.
i have made enemies of instructors at my school. well and i don't mean to make that a plural. i've made an enemy of my novella instructor. she looked angrily into my shifting eyes and didn't believe i was sorry. she'll teach me though, she's going to do the unethical and take vengeance on my grade in order to fuck up my life. there's nothing i can do. just finish the novella, fifty pages, submit it.. attempt to humble myself. i always do this to myself, self sabotage because i hate school and am disenchanted with efforts, attempts, assignments, people, strangers, posers, teachers seeking full-time positions at the university. i do this to myself. i break things. i start fights with ruel. i keep secrets from my mom. i lie. i lie. i lie. i am a fraud, but the pain is real. i am in distress so i hide or i don't call people. i wish i didn't have to graduate. i wish i didn't have to be in school. i wish i could stop. just stop. just stay in bed. just fold up in bed. just die in bed. but no. that's not the way its meant to happen. maybe i should take medication or move to nepal. this is stupid. i'm not being specific enough. i just need to focus, just get back to the beginning. back to everything.
i am miserable when i am here, in the corner, with my eyeballs drying out. r said, "i am empty," and i wondered if i was too. i'm not. i can't be. i'm too confused, so if anything i have confusion. but confusion is not fulfilling, it does not have the richness of duality. i hate my academic life. i hate that i have no drive and no push. not even when my poor mother and father have believed in me so. i don't want this for me, i want this for them. i don't want this for me, i want this for them. but what do i do. i go ahead and sabotage everything. i make everything unstable, inaccessible, i make everything fail. like i'm some sort of addict to failure. but if i can't get my school things together, if i can't shape up.. what kind of a life am i going to end up having to lead? you know? what's going to happen to me? Me! charlie in flowers for algernon. there is no hope here, there is no life here, there is no light here. i am a stone in the middle of the cold cold coldest parts of the ocean. just a stone jutting out, a place upon which birds of every size and shape and smell have perched and shat. i am cold and covered in years of bird droppings. my solitude is immense, stubborn, filthy, irrefutable.
today my mind is drowning in trouble, my body cries out and i refuse to hear it pleading with me to find food. i am alone in my walks, my travels, my talking on the phone, my stalking by the computer lab, i am alone in failure as i will be utterly and unspeakably alone in death.
how depressing. can't i focus on anything? television, the great clorophorm (or cloroform). no that's not it.
perry como on the tele? perry como on kpbs, launching the annual show of the songsters of olde. i just sat back down. i had to stand, it was perry afterall. and when i think of that perry como i think of rb. who else, right? yes. so more on that at another time. perhaps when i'm focused. why can't i just focus now?! oh for goodness sake. patti page just sang about losing her loved one while the band was playing the beautiful tennessee waltz. when the camera panned over the audience some of the women were tearing up. those women have lived life. they've gone to their schools, married their men, had their children, suffered their pain--quiet, alone, with grace--and i can't even graduate. my interenet won't stay on. i want to make hot chocolate. i'm trying not to stop writing so that i can uncover or discover some sort of rhythm or unlock something. unlock makes me think of keys which makes me think of bluebeard. bluebeard makes me think of pandora's box and pandora's box makes me think that i should at least call theron back and thank him for his return call and message. my knee hurts me. my eyes are not so dry now and i wonder why. i need to vaccuum. you would think that having the periods there would make me stop or make me want to keep stopping. but i don't. i don't stop. i keep going. the muscles in my hands going numb and i have to move my knee. my knee hurts. i don't heal well and d brought it up, i'm getting older. yes. i am and its difficult to recover. its difficult to stay up and that makes me think of ruel and i. how long do i have this time? how is this going to come crashing down this time? will i always feel that its never enough. that i'm better off alone when i'm supposed to still be warm and wonderful? and then when i'm given some time alone i don't use it properly. i don't take care of what i need to take care of, mainly school. i just go on this way. miserable. just a failure. just nothing to show for all of that money my parents have thrown away. i should make some hot chocolate. i have a new pot to make it in. also i don't journal in the other two journals as much anymore. how in the hell am i going to make fifty pages come to life? hmm? how am i going to do this? well i know i need twenty-five pages of single-spaced action and clarity and story and direction and i have fifteen pages, right now, of crap. just crap. crap efforts. crap. i just have these ideas and no way to express. no language that works properly. no language that i can employ because i'm charlie though i have no flowers nor a mouse named algernon. he was white, algernon was. if i could back and do it over i would. you don't know how i would. you don't know how i could. time travel. yes. that makes me think of somewhere in time. it makes me think of dying because of pennies. it makes me think that no one, especially not me or not someone like me, has a single chance in this rotten stinking hill-of-beens sort of world. i don't think i used that line correctly. no. i don't think, i know i didn't. i didn't do it on purpose. i wish i knew what it was like. i wish i knew what it was like to kiss and kiss and kiss right into the night night night. i have. he's held me on that awful sofa. we kissed and kissed and kissed and i let go of my mind and we kissed and he held me like he really needed me or couldn't live through the days without me to hold and kiss. you know? that's a nice feeling. but is it enough? is it enough that a person thinks of you? is it enough that you require a person to think of you. is it enough that a person requires relief. is it enough to write and write and read and exchange words and rephrase thoughts and connect and disconnect and moisturize? its not enough. nothing is ever enough. what can be enough? am i selfish? yes. that is the answer so don't even bother. these blocks are everything. inside these paragraph ranting blocks is everything. i doubt anyone will read this. that is experimental too isn't it? to just have the text fill the page. to just let the page drown in the text or the font or the constant witholding witholding witholding. carpal tunnel. i could keep going, i need air and my knee is in shambles and my lower back answers in chorus. its night outside, its night. its fog outside, its haze. its cold in the night outside, its without mercy. my eyeballs are dry again. my eyeballs are back again.
what do you think about blood? what do you think of people who are afraid of blood? queasy at the sight of blood. what do you think? i am talking to you. i am making it my purpose. is this what it feels like to command? to use the word "you" and mean you? i don't want to ask anymore questions because i never ask the right ones. i emailed andy again. or i responded to him. i hope he wasn't offended by my thumbnail link in the previous entry. it was/is a link to a flickr account which he created. a middle ground? i feel like i'm running amok. i wonder if january and theron are ok. i wonder because i thought about my dry eyeballs and i thought about hot foods. i thought about the place off of the balboa exit? good grief.. the clairmont exit? i don't remember where it is or how to get there. but that's a lie too. because i do remember. the tea station. i want to have the chicken and wonder right now as i type if the thought of most chicken will then also trigger something in me that is moist. something in me that is moist that will pour over my aching eyeballs. d'you know i have to sometimes drive the bus this way? yes. the wheels on the bus do go round and round but especially when the driver is driving with one eye. then you REALLY have to focus on the wheels because otherwise you'll be eyes, dry as they are, on everything else and that will be panic. i doubt anyone is going to take much pleasure in reading this entry. i think it will be a stick in the side. it feels like i can't stop. it feels like i'm filling up space so that i don't have to deal with writing about my family or of a family or why a family. i am such a foolish foolish fool. i have given away all of my secrets, you know. i have nothing now. i truly am empty. d'you know? when a girl was taught, by a woman at a finishing school (do they still have those? i'd like to go to one if they do. wow. maybe i have adhd and is that very different from a.d.d?) as i was saying...when a girl was at a finishing school or a dance studio, they were taught to walk. i learned all of this from a red skelton movie, mind you. the woman with gray hair and her long varnished cane which was really a stick from a giant tree (was i giant as a child?) and she would walk and she would say to the girls, "observe the lengthening spine. Are you watching? You must remember to walk as though you are saying with every step what you are actually thinking and telling yourself which is this: i am beloved. i have a secret. i am beautiful. what a load of [bleep bleep bleep]. i don't feel like cursing but bleeping isn't any better. doesn't do a better job of rhythm. what am i thinking about.
my forearm is going numb. what a narcisist. i can't write. who am i trying to fool? because it isn't working. stop using the "i" voice. stop! full stop. comma. question. kill. people die of food poisoning. aspirin which fights headaches also causes headaches as a side-effect. isn't that miserable? also, i have found out, as a side effect, medication taken (injested or what-have-you) for acne has the rather terrifying side effect of suicidal tendencies. crazy isn't it. or maybe not. maybe this is the lottery. maybe so. we're a bunch of small animals in a glass jar and since air is in short supply we kill each other in order to stay on top of the heaping heap of steaming death. my eyes. my eyes are dry!!! oh sadness. and now the lyrics of a song, why must we pay, (sing it charlie brown) for goodbyes that we say, pay when we say an adieu..... if you know the song, sing along. if not, why not. you should. changes. charlie brown. i don't know what its called. i should find out. i'll find out soon. but not right now. because i can't see right now. and i have to reattach the internet in order to even post this and be done with it.
and now for a little respite. my wrists are numb to my fingers. and in the meantime there is no one.
19:37 - Thursday, Mar. 10, 2005
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
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
lv2write00
squirrelx
cdghost
smoog
muppetathena
crystal42
thatdame
iwillsurvive
monstre
ouvrelesyeux
poolagirl
lintpickle
i-am-jack
anniewaits18
alicewonders
sunnflower
crateobscure