Sunday, Nov. 09, 2003 at 1:32 a.m.
Welcome to an online diary classic: the drunk entry. I have yet to decide if this is going to be the self-pitying entry as well. (That's not even the expression I want to use, but I can't remember the real one.)I guess I just needed this. Both the drunkenness and the ramble put out there on the internet. Do you realize that when you do this you're putting your most private thoughts literally where anyone in the world can see them? I just did right now, and no wonder the internet is so popular.
It's vindicating in that being published, simply being available for consumption, is vindicating. People in Europe and someone from the Dominican Republic actually read this fucking thing. And it's not just some thing, it's me. These people are reading me, just like anyone could. People I know and people I love and people that I've never met before.
Guy problems. Poems (not mine, of course). God, my life is off track.
I don't think I even have a track. The moon eclipsed and looking at it is the only thing I need or want, but where do you go from there?
I think I'm only going to take one class next semester, like my therapist suggested. This means bowing out of a very prestigious, $1000-per-semester scholarship. This might seem crazy, but my life is crazy and I think at 23 it's about time I admitted it. I think I've defaulted this semester. Actually, I know I have. Can't go back to classes I'm not even going to pass, but do have to go back to therapy and get my shit in gear, get back on my pills. Holy fuck. Holy fuck, this is all very hard.
No calls from the boy on his birthday. If I really wanted a call I would have told him that I wanted to hang out with him tonight. Didn't, self-sabotage again.
In the meantime, read Lew Welch, who killed himself. The therapist in me wishes I could have saved him, of course, but he's been dead longer than I've been alive. The least I can do is never, ever follow in his footsteps. Not even an issue when the moon makes me happy. As long as the sky is up there I'll be here to look at it.
For all the Wet Green GirlsI found myself, green girls, in a month like May,
in a green garden at the break of day
all around me gray rain beat
and the cage that I am was an empty zoo
in a garden, girls, at a break like May
in the first wet light of the sun
when, from a rock in the arbor leapt
a sleeping cat, through
gray green cages of deserted zoo
where I found myself on a breaking day
as bright rain beat upon the garden stone
where the leapt cat left his belly print
along, young girls, when my head unbent
in a green green garden at he break of day
and I saw what came
and I watched what went
Green Girls
And I saw what came....
And I watched what went....
I'm listening to Sixteen Horsepower -- Olden
I'm reading Nightmare on Main Street: Angels, Sadomasochism, and the Culture of Gothic by Mark Edmundson
I want my phone to ring right fucking now........