> Nine Inch Nails - The Mark Has Been Made
> Oakenfold - Dread Rock [glorious song]
> Marilyn Manson - Spade “you drained my heart / and made a spade / there’s still traces of me in your veins”
> Linkin Park - Session

I want to compile a list of the names of the characters and their alter egos in all the books I love.

Bernard Marx vs. John (the savage)

Winston Smith vs. Julia

Dagny Taggart and the producers vs. James Taggart and the looters–this protagonist (Dagny) really has no specific antagonist–the moral codes themselves are the real protagonists and antagonists, I believe, in this novel.

I really need to take a–I’m not sure what it’s called but I want to take a class on protagonists, antagonists, etc. A class on archetypes. I think that would be close.

While I was researching Ayn Rand I stumbled onto this crystal analysis of her attitudes towards sex, which are amazingly exactly what I believe in. I’m going to post it.

“In rejecting the traditional Christian altruist moral code, Rand also rejects the sexual code that, in her view, is a logical implication of altruism.

Rand introduces a theory of sex in Atlas Shrugged that is purportedly implied by her broader ethical and psychological theories. Far from being a debasing animal instinct, sex is the highest celebration of our greatest values. Sex is a physical response to intellectual and spiritual values - a mechanism for giving concrete expression to values that could otherwise only be experienced in the abstract.

One is sexually attracted to those who embody one’s values. Those who have base values will be attracted to baseness, to those who also have ignoble values. Those who lack any clear purpose will find sex devoid of meaning. People of high values will respond sexually to those who embody high values.

That our sexual desire is a response to the embodiment of our values in others is a radical and original theory. However, even those who are sympathetic to this theory have criticized it as being incomplete. For instance, since according to Rand the economy is also such an expression of values, and since it is always possible to encounter someone who embodies one’s values more completely, this would seem to make family undesirable (indeed family is treated as sort of a trap by Rand) and promiscuity, prostitution and an endless round-robin of “values-driven” sexual relationships inevitable.”

I have to go return some videos.

> Marilyn Manson - Use Your Fist And Not Your Mouth
> Garbage - Medication

Today was fun, Kelly, Taggart, Jared and I went to Round Table and had breadsticks. It’s beautiful to experience all the subtle nuances that go along with being in public–a brush of his hand against mine, a glance, a surreptitious embrace–I’m so–well–not infatuated, not obsessed–well–I love him. I guess that’s all that matters. To me, at least. Taggart is making some kind of sculpture out of these stop smoking brocures we got at Long’s and a cookie tin. I’m going to paint a big Warhol of the big stylized “Quit Smoking Successfully” on the front of the brocure when I get home. I once thought that only depression could inspire me to paint, but this–I hesitate to call it love–has fulfilled me so competely that I am overflowing with rapture. God I sound pathetic, but it’s true. I can’t leave him. I’ve been thinking of staying here and going to ARC (American River College). I mean, I have all my stuff, and it wouldn’t be too complicated to transfer. I’m not sure whether I’m ready to jump blindly into this, but it’s the most real thing I’ve felt in my entire life. Well, we do have a month. I have to go return some video tapes.

> Marilyn Manson - (s)AINT “I got a F and a C and I got a K too / and the only thing that’s missing is a bitch like you”
> Marilyn Manson - Ka-Boom Ka-Boom “call it fake I call it good as it gets”

Last night was amazing, I am so in love with Taggart. We held each other and talked about our hopes and fears–I don’t know what I’m going to do when I have to leave. We’re supposed to walk to his house today. Oh, Jared came back, I’m happy. He’s cool, I missed him. I have to go return some video tapes.

> Marilyn Manson - Fight Song
> Watching American Psycho
> Marilyn Manson - Valentine’s Day

I’m wearing my newly duct-taped suit jacket. The duct-tape shoulder accents are great. I think I’m going to sew on some kind of permanent ones. I wish there was something to do on the internet except for blog. Perhaps I’ll search for clothes, but I know I won’t be able to buy any of them. Futile. Taggart is making some kind of sculpture and Kelly is writing in her journal (I bought it for her as either a b-day or christmas present months ago). I’m trying to find a good song to make me feel better, but I don’t know what to listen to. I think “Valentine’s Day” will suffice. I love “Valentine’s Day” Glorious. Manson at his best. I used to listen to it all the time when I felt like shit. I just realized that a lot of my journal writing is about music–it’s so American Psycho. I do love music though, it’s the only thing that can keep me from–well–suicide. That and writing. If I couldn’t write and I couldn’t listen to music I would just die. It’s twelve and I’m tired, so weird. Taggart is sitting within eye-range of the screen so I can’t really type anything about tonight–I know he wouldn’t read the screen but it just seems too intimate to even admit the possibility of him knowing my inner thoughts. I have to go return some video tapes.

> Deftones - My Own Summer (Shove It)

I’m officially sick of Taggart’s antics. He left his hysterical suicidal message on the answering machine of some church. He’s still doing it. I want to go into Kelly’s room. I want to get Kelly and Dan to come with me and go “your audience is leaving.” But I’m not that mean, and I don’t have control of the universe. If I did I think I would–well–fuck. He said that he was on lithium for a month and it completely evened him out, but he couldn’t paint or draw or anything. I was on prozac for a month and I was the same way, I couldn’t feel. If I were to magically even out his brain chemicals it would drastically change who he is. Perhaps last night was only the anti-anxiety medication talking. I am such a cynic. When I’m depressed I blog. I’m depressed. I think I’m going to take a book into Kelly’s room and read for a while. Breakfast Of Champions sounds good right now. I have to go return some video tapes.