> Marilyn Manson - I Want To Disappear
> The Donnas - You Wanna Get Me High
> Marilyn Manson - Ka-Boom Ka-Boom

I’m feeling much better today, my grandpa (not my evil grandpa, the one on my dad’s side) and his wife Marian called me this morning, they were really happy to talk to me, I really like them, but they are avid Fundamentalists. I have two e-mails in my box from Molly, I don’t exactly want to open them–my uber-depressed entry yesterday–yea. OMG how sad, Josh won’t reconcile. I quite frankly don’t get it. I suppose I should devote my brain cells to something that might actually have some use in the future–perhaps my next philosophy paper or the enigma of the universe–not this drama. I really don’t get it. Oh, Molly is so cool–that second e-mail just completely brightened my day. I think I might go over to Danielle’s and waste a day having uber-fun, but then again it’s kind of late, it’s eleven. I do have to clean the mouse poop out of the silverware drawer, I think they’re all dead, so I can put everything back in there. Well, I finished A Brief History Of Time yesterday night, I’m training myself to read while the TV is on, because my dad keeps it turned way up and I can hear it anywhere in the house. I got through the last three chapters of my book while the TV was on, so I think it’s a success. After I finish the Morality chapter in my philosophy book, I think I’ll go over to Danielle’s as the philosophyness percolates into my skull.

“It is possible to store the mind with a million facts and still be entirely uneducated.”
–Alec Bourne

Audioslave - Show Me How To Live
Moby - Landing
OKGO - Shorty Before The End

I am having a fucking horrible night. The whole thing with me not doing my art paper sent me into this spiralling black abyss of fucking depression. With the possibility of flunking out of college, I would have to restructure my life plan, instead of living for maybe seventy years, I would have to shorten it to something like thirty. I was considering starting smoking, having random anonymous sex, and taking drugs. I just want to fucking be….the whole world can go fuck itself. I was watching The Rules Of Attraction, but I couldn’t finish it…it was just an emotional train wreck waiting to happen. And that’s what my whole life has fucking been. A big train wreck. Richard fucked me up and convinced me I had no worth as a human being, Justin fucked me up and taught me that love doesn’t mean anything, Jon, Royce, Charley, and Peng made me realize that sex isn’t anything more than a bodily function. Fuck them all. So I’m left being this jaded, nihilistic heartless fuckhead who recoils from emotion because I know it will only bring more pain. Heisenburg, my idol, would say that I’m not a product of mindless determinism, and Sartre would say I’m living the “inauthentic life” to blame all my emotional problems on my ex-”friends”, but what else do I have to blame for the end of my romantic view of love? Either it’s their fault or it’s my own. Maybe I should realize that sex is just a mindless bodily function–but I just can’t. My idealism has been ripped to shreds but the last of my soul is still gripping onto love as some kind of inextricable thing from the rest of me. Fuck my soul. I just want it all to go away. I’ve been conditioned so well…I’m so afraid of another train wreck, but I board notwithstanding….god I hate my instincts. I could die from my instincts. My endocrine system says “fuck him now” and I can’t help myself–I’m probably going to die. My parents don’t have the money to pay for anti-retrovirals…if I get HIV I’m fucked. I could have it now, and just not know it. I really feel like taking up smoking, I really don’t want to live that long on a planet as fucked up as this one, as a person as fucked up as me, in this fucking hellhole full of horrible people that only want to hurt each other. I feel fat, I feel ugly, and I feel like I want to die. But of course I’ll just bumble ahead. You know what would be the ultimate irony? If I had HIV and ended up dying without anyone ever feeling any attatchment to me that didn’t vanish with an orgasm. And I really fear death. It’s so ignoble. And then they’ll lock me up in some coffin that I’ve never seen and plant me in the ground, with the Catholic people saying shit to safely deliver me to some god I don’t even believe in. I’m so scared, and I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t move on to acceptance of death, because there are so many things I haven’t done. So many clothes I haven’t worn, so many guys I haven’t fondled, so many bohemians to befriend, so many foriegn films to see, why do I have to die? I just want like, a month or a few years of unending bliss, then the end won’t faze me at all. But now? With me having accomplished nothing? I don’t even have a measuring stick for my accomplishments. So I’ve read a bunch of books, so I can write well (supposedly), so I have a great fashion sense, so I can do web design, so I like learning other languages. How will I ever succeed in a world so filled with hypocrisy and lies? I can’t even bring myself to write my stupid art paper… I can’t even bring myself to write my English paper. Fuck. I’m a failure. A train wreck in the dark. That’s my life. I don’t know when I’m going to die, it could be tomorrow, it could be ten years from now, it could be seventy years from now….if only I knew I could plan, but I can’t. I think the only comfort I’d feel would be if the sun exploded. But I’m going to have to wait something like a million million years. But the only large-scale comfort is that the laws of thermodynamics state that in a closed system, entropy increases. The universe is a closed system, so human life will end at some time in the future, unless the first law can be broken(law 1: energy cannot be created nor destroyed, it can only change forms). But all this pedantic rambling won’t make me less depressed. The world is fucked, and I’m going to die. I’m not happy with these facts.

“It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it; but the young know they are wretched for they are full of the truthless ideal which have been instilled into them, and each time they come in contact with the real, they are bruised and wounded.”

–W. Somerset Maugham, Of Human Bondage