|
Monday, Dec. 22, 2003 / 8:26 p.m. ~Run Like the Wind~ Norman's in playful mode. She sprints, she dashes, she 'mrraoowww's, and I'd swear she giggles. I wish I had the energy to join her. I go blank when people ask about my job. Brent used to ask me every time he saw me, and I had no desire to even remember it. Outside of it, it doesn't exist. I started to think of it just now, possibly to write about it, in the 'here's what happened today' sort of diary style, but I recoiled. I'm downloading Jane's Addiction's "Three Days", the biggest file I've ever downloaded. I'm listening to Digable Planets on my Winamp, and I'm already so tired of my long playlist. I know I need to break it down, split it up, but I don't have the head for it. All but one, now two, paragraphs start with some form of "I". I'm not eating, and that is so weird. It's just a phase, it doesn't feel disorder-ish, I'm going through something, that's all, and I will get past it. Give me approximately two more days and I'll be much better. Maybe one day, it all depends. I will eat, later, I just can't right now, I couldn't all day. God, but what I put myself through, what torment I produce inside myself. I think some people seek therapy, or take drugs, mood enhancers, elevators, suppressors, regulators, but I don't believe in any of that. It's just life, and it has its ups and downs, its yin and yang, and this is a low to balance a high, or rather a low after a high, for there must be that balance. For the record, I opened up this page, and had no idea what I wanted to write. The TV is off. All the shows I was so into are now basically over. They were reality shows with beginnings and endings, or they are in hiatus, and especially on a Monday, there is really nothing unless I try very hard to find 'something', but I decided music is more what I need. Again with the damned playlist, I'm sick of it. "Three Days" is barely halfway downloaded. Right now there's a sound outside and below my window. It might be the dog that lives in one of the apartments downstairs, sounds like a rustling amongst the bushes. Earlier there were sounds of metal on metal, grinding, and hammering, tapping, shifting, moving. I don't want to know what it really is because it's more fun to imagine. I went to a counselor briefly, after what happened with the Frenchman. How respectful that sounds, when I think I used to refer to him as Fuckhead, which of course brings to mind the button I have with the drawing of the man, all happy and carefree, snapping his suspenders or some such, saying, "That's MISTER Fuckhead to you". I saw this counselor in her apartment in a highrise. She had candles lit and soft music, or maybe there was no music, maybe there was no sound but her soft voice, and my long silences, my discomfort. Then the sound of ideas coming into my head, springing in a way, and realizations, acknowledgements, and self healing, the sound of wishing I were anywhere but there. And each session she'd end by wrapping it all up, but I was just getting started. I didn't need her more than that first time, maybe the second. I read Please Understand Me, calculated I'm an ENFJ, then put that together with Aries Sun, Sagittarius Moon (as was Van Gogh), and my genetics and realized I'd wasted my money on her. But I remember the devastation that sent me there. I am far too fragile. If only anyone could see me for who I am, this would be someone from whom I'd run. In the realm of everything reminding me of everything else, this now reminds me of Steve telling me to run from him. And how many times did I try to pull him back? Even recently sending him email. You know how you're supposed to wait and see how things play out? I am incapable. The wait and see thing? No, not me at all. The play it like this, and then you can get that thing? Are you crazy?! Good god, I talk about Dave Eggers in that entry I just linked to. Okay, the sounds outside are too much. Now it sounds like someone is totally dismantling something, and just set down a bucket. There are tools being used. Guess what this reminds me of? The time I lived intown, like too intown, and my downstairs neighbor/friend/father's future wife was burglarized. She was at work, and I knew this, and I heard noise at her bathroom window outside, then someone in her apartment, and then her toilet flushed! I called the police, told them I knew she wasn't home, someone was in there and he flushed her toilet. Imagine breaking in to someone's home and having to pee, or whatever, and you are so in the habit, you actually flush. The guy was hiding in her closet when they showed up, the woman cop standing just to the side of the front door, her gun drawn and up by her chin practically. They arrived so quickly, like they were just around the corner (I'd gone down to 'assist', er, to 'watch', like it was a cop show), and they caught the guy, and I went 'downtown', as they always say, but it literally was, and identified him in court, had to 'point to the man' and everything. Since my neighbor had some insurance that was supposed to offer reward for arrest and conviction I was psyched I'd get a cash bonus, but no dice. I'll never forget that guy with his stringy blonde hair and Hawaiian shirt. I think I need to eat. Really, seriously. This is ridiculous. I feel like Camille Claudell or someone. No, wait, Betty what's her name, that one who tore out her own eyes, what a fucking drama queen, and the Frenchman loved that movie, worshipped that movie. All the signs were in front of me, why in hell didn't I run from him too? The counselor had told me I choose all the wrong men. I need to find a healthy relationship, I need to be respected and loved, not used nor abused. She made too much sense so I never saw her again. She was passionless. My download is complete - this is a beautiful, haunting song, not the version I wanted, this one's live, but all the same. Mmmmmm... Cost of the War in Iraq
(JavaScript Error)
Recent Entries: It Was 40 Years Ago Today - 9:44 a.m. , Friday, Oct. 12, 2012 Dead Black Cat - 9:07 a.m. , Wednesday, Jan. 25, 2012 As Seen From Outer Space - 1:07 a.m. , Saturday, Dec. 05, 2009 I Survived to Tell the Tale - 7:29 a.m. , Friday, Sept. 18, 2009 Reading My Life - 12:55 p.m. , Saturday, Sept. 12, 2009 
  |