|
2001-10-20 / 6:40 p.m. ~Welcome to My Pity Party~ I'm listening to Moby's "Play", drinking coffee. My upper back hurts, second day in a row now - I can't seem to stretch it out, but maybe I've yet to try hard enough. It almost seems like it's internal, a lung or something, but surely it will go away, in time. Last night I read a good bit of Moby's online diary. Click on the link, then once on his site, on the left where it says "Moby Updates". I had read of his thoughts after 9/11, since he lives not far from the WTC, probably in Entertainment Weekly, and wanted to check him out. Finally I did. I read and read and read, finally made myself stop and go to bed after 2:00 this morning. He is so sweet, so compassionate, so caring, so real. He not only writes of his feelings on how we live our lives, on how his and his friends' lives have now been altered, but on the simple joys of cleaning his house, of cooking veggie meatballs in spaghetti. I wish I knew him. He blows me away. I will go back and read more, soon, but he writes even more than some Diarylanders! He writes 5 or 6 entries some days!! I also went back, to this past summer, to see what he wrote about his first Area:One show, here, in my town, and he was nervous beforehand, the next day thanked us all for coming out. That was an unforgettable show. I hardly watched the hockey game at all last night, I was too caught up online, reading, reading, reading, after a day of eye pain, not wearing my glasses at work. I must be crazy. Thrashers lost anyway, 4-3, and I wonder how badly they'll suck this year. They have yet to win at home now. Not a good sign. And I skipped the George Chang tribute at MJQ. Fuck me. What is my problem? I was tired, I was low, it was stupid. I hate me sometimes. I missed the 4th anniversary party the week before, now this. Maybe I think I'm too old, too pitiful, maybe it's been too long since anyone has been positive about me and it's hard to do it all myself. Oh, Joleen, you are so great, I love me/you....No. See, I can't even pretend. I'm fucked up and I can't even pretend to pay myself compliments to lift my spirits. Hey, that's not me fishing, okay? No nice things in the guestbook, okay? Don't even sign it! And you don't know how often I think I'll just remove that fucking link to it on my page!!! But you know it'd still be there. Whatever. MyMichele wrote about how her boyfriend being sexually attracted to her lifted her spirits, and she knew how in a feminist aspect that should not have been all it would take. But I know what she means, anyone would. Sometimes it is hard to validate one's self, by one's self. It takes another person to say the right thing, to show love or appreciation to make one realize one is worthy, one is cared for, wanted, loved, appreciated, a valuable human being. I get it. So on my own, I'm sucking. It won't last long, it never does, but I've had some recent experiences that made me feel so invisible, so inconsequential it hurts. I'm outrageously low right now. Like I say, it won't last long, it never does. But I slept all day, really, until 5:00 or so in the evening. I only got up because the cats were hungry for "dinner". Yeah. That's how late it was. I got back in bed after I fed them, but I could no longer sleep. It was too warm, I'd opened the window and the kids outside were too loud, bouncing a basketball, constantly (and it still bounces, I hear it), screaming, some neighbor listening to house music, the bass too loud, and it only made me think how I should have gone out last night, how I love to be caught up in a beat, how I could relate to what Moby wrote about having to hear a repetitive beat, how after 8 minutes or so it's fucking transcendent. Yeah. I know. I know what it's like to be in that groove, to feel it, to be with it, flowing and moving with it, forever, and the only thing that will make me stop will be pain or thirst. So, I couldn't take the sound of the bass, the bouncing ball, the screaming, anymore, and I got up. Here. Here I am. I'm up. I've achieved coffee, music, now what? Writing. Reading. I'll be okay, it's all no big deal. I'll get over all of this, I'll get to a point where I no longer tear up when I think of how incredibly alone I am. How I have no one. How Lulu told me I should go to her house for Thanksgiving, then days later wouldn't even look at me. I piss everyone off sooner or later. And I don't even want anyone in my life. Isn't that the rub? To feel so alone, but to know that if someone wanted in I would freak out. I couldn't handle someone wanting something from me, wanting me to be consistent. I couldn't do it. I've been there. There's no answer right now, and there's not even an excuse. Not this time. I can think of nothing that set this off. I love this album though, "Play". A new song just came on, and it's taking me away a bit - You want to know which one it is? Track 11: "Run On". How can you feel low when you hear this song? I love the way Moby's mixed the sound of old spirituals, excuse me, but "Negro Spirituals", from the '30s or so, with this new sound. It's so unique. It's old, and familiar, it's spiritual, but it's got so much rhythm, so much house sound mixed in. He blows me away. And he's real, the real him, so unpretentious, so human. I'm going to get lost in it now, this music - now it's at the part where my cassette cut off while I was taping it. I usually only hear the cassette, from the car (which we know no longer has a working tape deck) or lately, my Walkman, but I'm home now, I can listen to the CD, I can do whatever I want, I can play music loud, with consideration for my neighbor of course, but I can listen. Music. Music always helps. Maybe I'll give in and smoke some hooch. Jesus, how long since I got stoned? Remember yesterday when I wrote that I needed to get altered? That was like 10:00 in the fucking morning, at work, not appropriate, but now, now, why not now? 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 
  |