[my little lover]
I reallllly need a com.
I've made several attempts to write at home. Tried the primitive paper and pen method. It all makes me sick really. Bah. And now, of course, I'm here at the computer and nothing is happening.
Oh god my stomach sure is happy though. Haven't had my moms cooking in a while, haven't watched the family cat eat a pigeon in a while, haven't had a goddamned calm moment in a while.
Since we've last talked gentle readers I've fallen a bit out of line. Been drunk quite a bit through these patches. [silver lined steel, green glass mickeys]….Winged most of the conversation and explanations. [but you don't understand, and no I don't remember] Yet I have to say I've come out on top if not hanging from a nail. It's been a decent goings on. I got a few answers, cried in public, danced to goodbye horses, hugged Charlie and taken an extreme liking to a funny little game called phase 10. decent.
I stop typing here.
And think about cigarettes.
Addiction. It's fucking wonderful.
Now, on a new note, in the ways of thinking. And dreaming. I've been all over the fucking place.
I've been cur-azy.
Last night I had a vivid blue dream. I was at
It's very interesting.
I just remember
-the sensation of being very, very, very small in the extensive sprawl of ocean.
-the sand packed so firm I had to dig with my nails to make the hole.
-the sound of the bells between classes and the reverberations.
Saturday the end of the night came around and I was in super Kierkegaard mode. The night had been a little rough. The club was fun sure. But the icy hand of things unsettled was around my waist and the words of a hesitant friend struck me louder than any song that night. I felt all alone in the middle of the smoke and the lights. I felt like I was fighting a pointless war.
"If you cant love yourself then you cant love anyone else"
How do words of wisdom work when all you can see through the blur is red then blue then red again?
As I was saying the end of the night was me and Abe and a case of beer, out on the porch, drunk, and in my case belligerent, cigarettes and me rambling and rambling about the existential queries that plaque me day by day.
I know I was quite poetic at times.
And thoroughly depressing the rest.
All in all.
I found my center that night.
For a second I had it.
Then I was sober in the morning and the conversation was gone.