Hmm. Tonight I was so depressed–well not depressed but cynical. I was judgemental about everything–but I always am. Walking around with Jessica I became aware of all the things I hate, ersatz-intellectuals, poser artists–just posers in general. But quickly I realized that I am a poser. I realized that I am so vain. I am insipid. I am banal. I am everything I hate. I’m shallow, I’m a loser, I’m not an intellectual. I was so condiscending to everyone. Well, not on the outside, but on the inside–but I’m no better than these people. I pretend to be what I’m not–but I don’t even know what I am. Fuck. I am like, so obsessed with fashion and looking good–but for what? For who? I feel like I’m only doing it so guys will fuck me and somehow give me the love my parents never gave me. It’s so pathetic. Why do I bother. I mean–I was wearing that big baggy sweatshirt thing of Jessica’s and people were all judging me. I hate being judged and I so hate people. Well, not people in general, people who are trying to sound intelligent and pretentious: “I’m an artist,” “That piece is worth $150,” “I have another showing next week.” I dunno. Taggart has a headache. While we were down there I felt completely no love. I was in such a bad mood. But I kind of feel better now. I’ll really feel better when I go over to cuddle with Taggart on the couch. Who needs heaven and eternal salvation when there’s Taggart?
> Marilyn Manson - Great Big White World
> Marilyn Manson - Rock Is Dead “Sell us ersatz dressed up and real fake”
> Marilyn Manson - Posthuman “this a riot religious and clean”
> Marilyn Manson - I Want To Disappear [my anthem]
Woke up around 11:30 and got ready to go to Taggart’s gallery. I got all dolled up in my new tie, my bondage top with the collars. Wore my bondage pants and waaaay too much black eyeliner and eyeshadow. We got there around 2:30, I think. We were singing Mogey-paw, then we turned on the radio and Kelly and everyone was singing along to rap songs (hilarious.) We were looking for “O” street, and there was this song where they go “Oh” during the chorus so everyone went “Oh!” when—well–it was funny. You just had to be there. Well, we arrived. Taggart was dressed in this black-and-white blend wool suit jacket and pants–so Warhol. We said our hellos and went to look at the work. There were some good pieces, but I wasn’t too impressed. However, Kathy found this great sculpture right outside the back door of the gallery, it was this big spraypainted baby doll in this big cage, it was cool. Kathy took a picture of it. After we’d seen all that was to be seen, everybody but me went back home (Jared, Kelly, Becky, Devin, and Kathy). I stayed with Taggart because we were supposed to do some stuff after his exhibit. I talked with some of the people there, this kind of earthy post-Tori Amos gay guy and someone who would fit in perfectly in the NIN “Perfect Drug” video. I know I’m labeling, but I’m saving time. You only live once. They were nice people, I liked the Perfect Drug guy. He had an interesting facial structure. The exhibit was in the ground-level common room of an apartment building, it was white with a washer and a dryer in one corner, and two exits, one facing towards the apartment complex and one into the big alley. The post-Tori Amos guy lived in the complex. I ended up meeting Ica–she wasn’t as pretty as I thought she was going to be. I was freaking out for a while, but I chilled out with some small talk about how I pretend to smoke. She’s cool after all. Well, I met some of his friends–people that came to see his exhibit–it started getting cold around five.
We left around six, that Jessica or or something girl came to pick us up. I was cold, so Taggart was all “do you have a coat in your car,” to the jessica person and she had this huge sweatshirt that I was too vain to wear, they made me put it on jsut until I was warm again. I put it on whenever nobody was around or when I was very very cold. Taggart loaded his paintings and sculpture (those words sound a bit too grandiose, but they are the only ones appropriate) into the car, and we went over to the True Love coffee house, this place he’d been talking about. It was cool, like Starbucks but without the small-ness fast-ness and conglomerate-ness. I wasn’t too impressed. I hate coffee shop “intellectuals.” But anyway, Taggart got some pie and the Jessica chick got some nachos, which Taggart started using for an ashtray after they were a little more than half gone. I was talking about how Kelly, Becky and I were telling disturbing sex stories, and he mentioned the throw up thing, so we ended up telling him. If you want to know it, ask me. I’m not going to post that story.
Well, after that we cruised over to Ica’s gallery. She had some cool paintings, one was of Taggart, a Picasso-esque thing. Her art and Taggart’s art were almost identical. How fucking lame. Well anyway, we walked around a bit and looked at some other galleries, they unequivocally sucked big donkey dick. I just finished a tirade about how art is shit with Kelly. Kelly and I just had a great conversation about stuff. I love my conversations with her. Well anyway, the art sucked. It was hideously banal. I mean, human forms–abstractions. Pathetic. I know I’m being judgemental and I always am, but it sucked. But the conversation with Jessica was AMAZING. She was feeling exactly like I was–jaded and wanting to be somewhere else. We talked about everthing: Taggart, relationships, love, art, the end of meaning. It was glorious. I kind of felt like I should have been hanging out with Taggart, but it didn’t feel right. I would have just been clinging–and I do that too much. He was having fun with Ica, I was having fun with Jessica–it wasn’t really that bad. I mean, we were both in a bad mood, and talking with her made me feel so much better. I am in a great mood now (I’m typing this at Kelly’s obviously). Well anyway, we left Ica’s gallery about nine, Jessica had to be home by ten. We looked at a gallery or two more, then we got back to True Love but it was time for Jessica to leave. Taggart wanted to stay, he got another ride back to Kelly’s. I went back with Jessica and we had this great conversation about how art is shit and how everything has been done before (clothing styles, art, etc.). Then we started talking about relationships that end before they start (a recurring theme in our previous conversation, because of Taggart). They suck–like when you are so into a relationship but you know it’s only going to last like a week, so it’s like over before it even started so you just can’t enjoy the moment, you just keep thinking about the pain in the future. They suck. This post is uber-long, I’m going to write one after this about my emotional state.
Woke up yesterday to Taggart, Kelly, and Dan coming home from school–Taggart kissed me. Um, some stuff happened–I don’t remember. Becky and Devin came over later that day and we had so much fun, Jared and I fought to “The Song,”–the big classical thing with the opera that they play during apocalyptic fight scenes–it was so funny. I wish we would have had it on tape. Anyway, we had lots of fun, we got pizza and sung the song “mogey-paw” from Upright Citizens Brigade . Taggart, Dan, Jared, and I ran out to El Camino in our boxers and did push-ups in the middle of the street, it was so amusing–well until Taggart took off his boxers. Fucking nudists. I can’t stand it when he does that. Everybody in the room has seen his junk. Becky, Devin, Dan, Kelly, and I are here. We’re going to Taggart’s show today. I’m freaking out because I found these sores on the back of my tounge. Maybe it’s herpes or something. Fuck. Fuck also because this person, Ica, one of Taggart’s fuck buddies, has an exhibit and I’m probably going to meet her. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I hate this world. I’m dying. And I don’t have insurance. And I can’t help thinking of what fluid was all over the location that those sores are. Damn sex. I’m going to die from it. My emotions will die as well once I meet the fabled “Ica.” I’m SO bringing my CD player. I won’t be able to survive otherwise. My body is dying, I can’t let my emotions go too.
