I’m offically bored, Star Trek is over–I want to e-mail Molly and ask if we can do Christmas lights, it’s bordering on sunny today–but I feel I’m being repetitive. I really need to e-mail people. My hair is greasy, I need to take a shower, but I don’t want to lose more hair. Perhaps I should just become at zen with losing it. Hmm. I should go to the store and get the most intense conditioner available. Perhaps I’ll go to the beauty supply, but they’d probably just tell me to not dye my hair as much, and convince me to buy some $30 elixer of hair life that won’t work. Grr. Maybe I should get dressed. I would, but I’m too busy shaking my head to feel my hair move around. I love my hair, it’s so long. Well, for me. Hmm. Well, I’ve convinced myself. I’m going to go get ready. I hope something happens today–I hate days that are a waste of makeup. I hate my inexorable loss of hair. I hate being alone in this hellhole. I hope Lisa takes me out for a driving lesson today. Or something.
It’s eleven, I went to sleep after my dad went to work. Some telemarketers called. I’m typing this on the computer in the living room, I installed the key logger on it so no matter what my future posts will be safe. A Star Trek TNG I haven’t seen is on, it’s kind of good. I’m bored. I want my own television.
Lyrics to the most glorious song ever, Marilyn Manson’s “The Last Day On Earth”
Yesterday was a million years ago
In all my past lives I played an asshole
Now I found you, it’s almost too late
And this earth seems obliviating
We are trembling in our crutches
High and dead our skin is glass
I’m so empty here without
I crack and split my xerox hands
I know it’s the last day on earth
We’ll be together while the planet dies
I know it’s the last day on earth
We’ll never say goodbye
The dogs slaughter each other softly
Love burns it’s casualties
We are damaged provider modules
Spill the seeds at our children’s feet
I’m so empty here without you
I know they want me dead
(chorus repeat)
My fantasy is to listen to this song in the arms of a significant other, while we sit on top of a skyscraper as we watch the shock wave from a nuclear explosion get closer and closer, and flashes us out of existence.
> Garbage - My Lover’s Box
> Marilyn Manson - Slutgarden
> Garbage - #1 Crush
> Marilyn Manson - User Friendly
> Nine Inch Nails - Into The Void
That really makes me mad, I wrote this great post earlier today and it didn’t post. Grr. I feel like I’ve been cheated out of a day. And I have been. Well, it’s 12:56 in the morning. I went to sleep around six tonight because I knew I’d end up waking up in the middle of the night (my favorite time to read). I finished The Day Of Creation. It was really good. I love J.G. Ballard. Next time I read I’ll continue on The Man In The High Castle. I just can’t stop thinking about that wasted post. I spent like an hour typing it. I’m going to install that program that logs keystrokes on the computer in the living room. Losing posts is just damn unacceptable. And it’ll log my dad’s keystrokes too, so I’ll find out if he looks at midget porn in the middle of the night. Lol. I really hope my dad gets me that car. It has a CD player. I think my only reason for getting a car/learning to drive is so I can drive around and blast music. And get a job, to support all my other obsessions: namely clothes, books, and DVDs. “#1 Crush” is such a good song–I’ve never heard a love song with better lyrics written about such deep obsession. “I would die for you / I would kill for you / I will steal for you / I’d do time for you / I’d sail ships for you / To be close to you / To be part of you.” I wonder if I would die for someone. I really don’t think so–unless I was really obsessed. I woke up at like twelve AM and went into the bathroom to wash my face, and I noticed that I just loved my hair. It’s too bad it’s falling out. I have to convince myself to wash it now, because I know a bunch of it is going to come out. Evilness. Ooh, there’s a glass of ancient water sitting by the computer–yay, I don’t have to go into the living room to get some. I don’t care if it’s stagnant–it’s my room and it can only have my germs in it. I tried to call Danielle last night to see if I could hang out on Monday, but she never called me back. When my dad gets up I’m going to give him the check I got from Patty and ask (tell) him to cash it. I really need that money. I must exchange my kilt. Having it here and being unable to wear it is cruel. I’m burning candles. I like computering by candlelight. Hmm, I’ve invented a new word. I should search through my backup CDs to see which one has the keystroke logging program on it. But then I’d have to stop listening to my Taggart CD. Okay, I’ve been indulging in love songs–but I could be indulging in worse things, intravenous drugs–romance novels–hick music–bible reading–cutting–just to name a few. Okay, I don’t feel so bad now. At least I haven’t devoted my life to the vehement denial of reality. *cough–theists* Speaking of zealots, my step-grandma Marian called tonight. It was the weirdest thing. She wanted to know whether to send my Christmas card to my dad’s or to Kathy’s, because I’d mentioned I was going there. I wonder if she’ll write back, I asked her if she was going to denounce me as a minion of satan if I revealed the real problems in my life. I worded it much more delicately than that, but that was the core of it.
I was writing this post and all of the sudden the power went out. I love my keystroke logger. It was all saved. It wasn’t saved as a finished product, but I could reconstruct it completely from the log. I had candles going so it was cool that the power went out when it did. I called and they said it would be back on at eleven, but just now at four-twenty it came flickering back to life. My dad is up, doing something. I think he’s trying to turn off the heat, it just came on when the power went back on. Maybe he doesn’t know what time it is. Yeah–that might be it. I have a pendulum-powered clock, so I knew the whole time what time it was. He isn’t cool enough to have my clock. When the power went out, I went into the kitchen and got an apple and some cheese and retired to my room to much on the apple and cheese sitting in front of my now debilitated computer. Afterwards, I read The Man In The High Castle by oil lamp light for a while, I’m about 2/3 of the way through it. It’s kind of not cool that the power came back on, I was looking forward to bringing out my oil lamp and candles at five when my dad got up, but the dark was getting tiresome. My weirdness would have saved the day. After I stopped reading I decided to go outside and look at the stars, which was beautiful (especially while listening to Starchaser). Unfortunately, our dog got up and started accosting me. I sincerely dislike that dog. But at least it didn’t bark at me, like it does sometimes during my sporadic midnight milieus with Charley. I went back inside, silently shooing the dog away from the door, and retired to my bed. I don’t know what I did…oh yeah I listened to music for a while, then got bored and got my CD case and started drawing on it with a Sharpie. It looks kind of cool. I’m typing this in a text document and saving it every minute or so for fear that the power will go off again. We’re living in the most industrialized country in the world, and there’s an outage that spans from Medford to Klamath. Freaking pathetic. That cheese isn’t agreeing with my digestive system (oh yeah, I had cheese for dinner too–pizza). My stomach hurts. I keep forgetting to get some pepto-bismol at the store.
I’m thinking of naming my big plastic tarantula. I don’t think I could get over my phobia of spiders enough to get a real tarantula, so I want my plastic one to be my ersatz exotic pet. Maybe I’ll name him Arachnophobia–that would be a bit ironic. Kind of my style. I kind of want to hang that painting of me and Taggart up in my room to confront myself with my emotions. The painting–I don’t understand it. Or maybe I just don’t want to. It’s very dehumanizing. But that’s how I felt when I painted it. I think it’d better stay in the spare room. Gosh, that makes me think of The Talented Mr. Ripley. That’s an amazing movie. I love Ripley, he’s one of my favorite characters ever. But that whole thing about keeping everything in the cellar–it’s so profound–and scary. I think all have a cellar that we don’t let anyone inside because it’s dark and there are monsters, whether we know it or not. I must get that and Gattaca on DVD…I haven’t seen Gattaca for months, and I LOVE that movie. *tear* It’s a dystopia, but such a beautiful one. I should get to sleep or something, my hand hurts. But I’m not sleepy. I need to go over to Danielle’s today and get my wrist brace back, but she never called me back and I can’t go over there unannounced at six-thirty in the morning. Perhaps I’ll postpone it until tomorrow. I am the grand vizier of procrastination.
