This is the funniest thing in the world–well not really. It’s kind of sad. I feel bad about the things I said about Danielle–but she blew everything out of porportion. She sent me an e-mail–she created a blog to write how much she hates me. Just goes to prove my point that hate and love are two aspects of the same unnamed emotion whose opposite is apathy. Well, here’s the URL:
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[This post has had its time and date changed to appear here, I am posting this on February 28, 2004. I finally typed out the entries I wrote in my binder on my bus trip from Sacramento to Crescent City. Look for the entry on February 28th at 3:15 PM for these entries.]
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Today (Friday) has been a hellish ordeal. Not because the bus trip was stressful, which it wasn’t, but all this shit about Andrew, and leaving Kathy and Kelly. It’s just so sad. About twenty minutes ago I finished putting my stuff away in the bathroom. I hung up all my clothes and put everything away. I even hung up a painting that had finally dried in my room. It’s the portrait of me and Andrew. I wonder what he’d think of it–oh wait, I think one needs emotions to comment on that level. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’m going to type it all out tomorrow. I even wrote an entry in my binder. All will be taken care of tomorrow. I just wanted to write this entry to say that I’m back in town safely and that my kilt fits perfectly. I’m going to spend all day tomorrow dressing myself up and seeing what good outfits I can dream up using my new kilt. I think the suit jacket with it will look particularly devious. Or my bondage top–ooh the combinations are endless. I got this stupid e-mail from Andrew, the last person in the world I want to talk to right now. It did not brighten my day. I’ll comment on it tomorrow. I’m so tired tonight but I can’t sleep. I slept about five hours this morning, but that was after staying up two days. I just can’t sleep lately. I hate this angst. I want it to go away, at all costs. And I’ve started every sentence in this damn post with the word I. I guess I am just a damn solipsist. It’s not like the world has given me any reason to believe in them. All they do is lie and use me. Lie and use me. Over and over again. I hate being other peoples’ douchebags. Fuck everyone. I’m going to try to go to sleep. Well, to appease my anger, here’s that stupid e-mail Taggart wrote me.
“well. I havn’t been dealing with emotion much
i’ve been trying to write my little booky thing
i just consume myself with it and spend my time writing, outlining, and editing it, only taking breaks to smoke
i’ll send you a copy if you want when i’m done.
its total shit and pathetic i just wanted to do it
its harder to write when you actually sit down
its really easy to say u’ll write but when you sit down and actually have to stick to some kind of plot its crap
tata
taggart
i’ll take god if kelly doesn’t want it”
What the fuck. I swear, I’m going to kill everybody in the world. Starting with myself. I’m going to sleep. Fuck the world. Like I would bother killing it anyway.
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> No Doubt – It’s My Life
I’ve literally been listening to this song nonstop for two hours. Hm, Dan said something today when he was over. We were kind of talking about Andrew coming over and such and he said that he thought I was a good person. I don’t know how he meant that, but it meant a lot. I wished I could return the compliment, but like–I don’t really know him. You know when you just get this feeling, and you know somebody–I haven’t gotten that with him yet. It requires a few hours of talking to get to that point and we haven’t had undivided talk time. Hmm. I just thought that was worth writing down. I felt really honored. Oh god, when we were in Mervyn’s those clothes were beckoning to me–I wanted them so badly. I want black collar shirts, I saw this great black jacket, some cool black socks–I need stuff like that. I hate Wal-Mart. This world is a shithole.
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We watched Wild Wild West on TV (the DVD player is broken), and Kelly just went to bed. I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth, and I washed my face–and I just started crying. I’m crying now–I don’t know why. It’s just all this hurt–it has to come out I guess. And the really sad thing is Andrew probably doesn’t even care. I really need a hug. I feel so alone, I’m going to be leaving Kelly and Kathy, like the only family that ever really mattered–I’m going to be leaving Andrew, I’m going to be leaving everybody. My tears taste salty–I never used to be able to cry when I was depressed, I don’t know if it’s better or worse that I can. I just–when I get back to Crescent City I’ll have nobody. Nobody to give me a hug, nobody to say it’ll be all right, no shoulder to cry on. Just this–vast black pit of melancholy. It just suffocates everything. I hope Kathy doesn’t come out–I just want to be alone. I hope I don’t cry on the bus, it’s even more depressing to cry in public because at that point you just don’t care any more. I’m at that point. I just put in a CD to try to make myself feel better, No Doubt’s lyrically insipid “It’s My Life.” A litte better. I mean, there’s just nobody in this world that I can just cry in their arms and have them tell me everything is going to be all right. I want my mommy. But she wouldn’t do that–she’d just go “he’s not important, you need to think about your future.” FUCK MY FUTURE. I FUCKING LOVED HIM–IT FEELS LIKE I’M GOING TO DIE. HOW CAN PEOPLE NOT FEEL LIKE THIS? HOW? HOW CAN PEOPLE EVER STOP LOVING EACH OTHER? God–crying is so messy–snot and bodily secretions–my lips are all chapped and bleeding–every time I use that lip gloss it destroys my lips and they peel, but they look good for the four or five hours after I put it on. I put it on for Andrew. I am SO pathetic. He wants a slave and he’s got one. I want to know that everything will be okay–I need a mother. I JUST WANT THIS PAIN TO GO AWAY. “I’d fuck you to feel something instead of nothing” (Manson, “Para-Noir”). That’s kind of true–would I rather be stitting here crying my eyes out or just surfing channels trying to find something to watch on TV or playing Neopets? I hate not feeling anything, but I hate feeling too. I hate this world because I loved it so much and it just–threw me away like a used tampon. Crap, my nose is all stuffed up. I need some tissues. I think it’s sad that people can laugh in public but you don’t normally see people crying in public. I mean–why mask one’s emotions? I don’t know… I want to call my dad, I want to have one of those Seventh Heaven conversations–where everybody feels better at the end. My dad isn’t a parent, at best he’s a landlord. I can’t bring myself to think that he feels anything. I’ll probably be crying during the next few months–maybe he’ll feel that need that I always feel to “fix” people who are crying. Maybe he’ll knock on my door or something and he’ll ask me what’s wrong. Eh, in my dreams. I just can’t stop crying–every time there’s a lapse I just–picture Andrew fucking Ica or Linkin Park Frenchie or some guy with that expression of love he’d always wear on his face–how could one person hurt me so much? And he probably doesn’t even care. I FUCKING HATE APATHY. I hope I meet someone sympathetic on the bus, but I probably won’t. I’ll wear my Nine Inch Nails shirt (as I always do on trips) to attract cool people. I wore my UCB (Upright Citizens Brigade) shirt today, I wonder if Andrew put it together that it was all for him. Why do I torture myself like this? Some people cut themselves, some turn to scarification, piercings, extreme body modification–but I have a new form of masochism, the search for “true love.” So much pain out there just waiting to be tapped, so much anguish and suffering, and it’s all self-imposed. Emotional scarification. It is such a comforting fact that I’m going to die, Kathy and I were talking about Anne Rice and how the vampires in her books are actually metaphors for the human race. I’ve never read Anne Rice, but from the movies based on her books I think I agree with her premises. Hm, stopped crying finally. I guess that’s good. I can picture him committing every act of debauchery with all of those mindless sluts and it doesn’t faze me. I can picture him jerking off thinking about me sucking his dick, thinking about Ica fucking him–I’ve reached Zen. I can even picture him telling some girl who just swallowed his cum that he loves her. Not a single tear. Ah, the glory of being numb. I need to accept that he’s libertine. I guess I can’t blame him–but like I have any fucking morals. I wanted him to love me and I wanted to love him. I guess that doesn’t have anything to do with morality. Hm. So no one is to blame but myself? Might as well blame myself, crucify myself again and again in my endless search for a god. I need to change CDs, I’ve been listening to that one song over and over again. But I’m afraid I’ll start crying again. The really sad thing is that he’s not crying. I hate this pattern. This is how it goes:
I think a guy is attractive
He thinks I am too
We have casual sex
We talk about a possible relationship
It either happens or it doesn’t, but either way it’s ersatz
I am eventually rejected
I cry
I grow enough to not be depressed any more (this period is quite long, I think I’m almost over Justin, and that was Junior year)
Sex just fucks everything up. I can’t be the same around somebody after I’ve had sex with them. Well, sex with some simulacra of love attached to it. Fuck everything. Fuck love. It doesn’t accoplish anything. It just blinds you to someone’s flaws long enough so you reproduce. All this shit is so depressing. I HATE THIS FEELING. I HATE EVERYTHING. I just want something I can never have. Exhibit 25a in how pathetic I am: AIM (AOL Instant Messenger) made the “person just signed on” sound, and I rushed over to click to see if it could be Andrew. All these people make me sick, these people who need to be in the spotlight, who don’t know what they want, who just use other people for their entertainment. If I could kill anyone, it would people like that. But when you really get down to it, there is no meaning of life, so perhaps this is the retrograde justification, random drama, random heartbreak, fucking reproduction, the economy–money, sex, drugs, everything just in this uneding circle without any meaning, without any direction, without any purpose. We’re spinning into oblivion, perhaps all this pain is worth something. I must reject all this shit society has drilled into me about “true love.” But I can’t. It’s the only meaning of life I haven’t debunked–living for another. Maybe Maugham is right, maybe we’re all just slaves to impulses we can’t control, maybe Palahinuik is right, maybe we are just the sum of the mass media. The only argument against determinism is looking quite weak. So, in summation, the only way I can get over Andrew is to ressurrect Werner Heisenburg and make him work on his theories from beyond the grave.
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This is so depressing. He was so unemotional on the phone. He left the book at work. I asked him how he felt about everything and he’s all “tired.” What an ass. He’s all–”so, bye.” He never loved me and he doesn’t know what he wants. I hate being other peoples’ experiments in what they want. I hate wanting people who don’t want me. I hate not understanding why people do what they want. I understand Kelly, I understand Molly, I understand Kathy–but I don’t get Taggart, I don’t get Josh–why do people do what they do? Why do they hurt people? What do they want? Why? Why didn’t he love me? Why? That’s not what I’m trying to say, but it’s the closest I can get. Why did he go out with Katie? Why did he go out with Linkin Park Frenchie? Why did he go out with me? What did he want? Why? I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND. I FUCKING HATE THIS WORLD. I leave in the morning tomorrow, I pity whoever has to sit next to me on the bus–they are going to have to slash their wrists in the bathroom–my depression will spread like a lethal virus. He hurt me. I just want to love someone for my whole life–is that so wrong? I’m so used to rejection–it’s become a way of life. I hate not being loved. It’s so profoundly depressing. I never even got to say goodbye to his face–but that would probably have been more depressing–to see the lack of emotion on his face, to see the profound indifference–goddamn I need to die. Right now. I feel like shit. And I know Andrew couldn’t care less.
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> Elastica – Hold Me Now
> Elastica – S.O.F.T.
Well, today was productive, I didn’t sleep all night so I was a bit cranky and loopy. Kathy was up early with me, we washed clothes and went to the disability place to get free food. When we came back Dan was hanging out, we watched his film he made for class, it was cool. We talked for a while and I took a shower and got dressed. We went to pick up Kelly, Andrew, and his Costa Rican foreign exchange student. Dan had to attend this meeting thing in S1 (a building number at Del Norte too), and Andrew walked in. I NEEDED MY HEADPHONES BADLY. I hate that feeling. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t. I wanted to touch his face, but I couldn’t. My subconsious doesn’t understand why I can’t do it any more. Oh, Kelly showed me Linkin Park Frenchie–she is such a LOSER! But I vicariously had sex with her. Eww. Bisexuals are disgusting. God, I saw Katie, she looked like such a poser. Looked like, lol. We did some errands at the school and stuff–I can’t stand how Andrew will do anything to be the center of attention. Maybe he just went out with me for attention. He needed someone inferior to worship him. How depressing. I was realizing so many things as I walked around hurting and festering inside. All high schools are the same, the faces are different but all high schools have the same archetypal characters. I realized that Andrew is El Camino (their school)’s counterpart to Richie. Kelly is is my counterpart–everybody is the same. There is no originality, there never was. I vemently, toally, and absolutely hate myself. And I realized that Andrew’s personality is exactly that of Richard, my first immense crush. Always wanting attention, borderline ADD–why am I attracted to these people? Depressing.We went back to Kelly’s (Kelly, Andrew, and I) and hung out for a while. We all watched the tranny trick videos, they were kind of amusing. Andrew fixed the doorbell, he gave me one of my books, my CD, and my cigarettes. He went home later–we didn’t say goodbye, I was trying to drown out reality with Placebo. He said he’d bring over my other book later. We then went to return stuff, but like it took forever at Macy’s (where we were returning Kelly’s stuff) so I didn’t get to return my stuff, Kathy had an appointment. We went back and I packed my suitcases–I think we made food–I was kind of tired and took a few hour nap, Jared and Dan stopped by while I was half-asleep. I woke up a while ago and we watched the end of Jumanji on TV. I’ve been calling Andrew since nine, his line has been busy and he’s not signed in to his instant messenger. I can’t think anything but that he’s avoiding me. Hm, I just called him and he answered, he’s all “I forgot.” I wonder if he’s lying. I’m on the phone with him now, he’s looking for my book.
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> Marilyn Manson – Cake And Sodomy
Finished Lullaby, that was the first book I’ve read cover-to-cover in one night in I don’t know how long. Very good. Kelly gains more of my respect, but she’s already in the top two and when you’re there there’s nowhere to go but up. Now that I think about it, I respect her more than anyone. Hmm. I need to pee. I’m back. My veins were so popped out tonight, I don’t know why. I find big, fleshy veins erotic for some reason. All that blood pumping in front of one’s eyes–it just kind of conveys that raw animal-ness that is always an aphrodisiac. Well, maybe. Maybe I have an elevated heart rate because I’m about to die from an enlarged heart. Or a bloodclot. It would be fitting. But I kind of want to at least live through this semester. This semester should be fun. I e-mailed Molly, explained some stuff–I don’t really remember what I said but I remember it started out with a discussion about the lack of ramifications of her reading my blog–then some other stuff, I don’t remember. Hmm. I feel like such an intellectual now that I finished Lullaby, my brain is just coarsing with creative energy. Hmm. I think I’m going to either jerk off or go play Neopets. I want a shirt that says “I’d rather be masturbating,” but that’s not really true. I’d actually rather be cuddling. I forget who I was talking to about cuddle buddies, I think it was Jared, he said he used to have a lot of cuddle buddies. Which was cool. He said they got bitchy or something, though. I wonder if Jared thought I was hitting on him. I really wasn’t, I just talk about relationships and crap. Maybe I am just a queer. I felt really good talking to Jared, we had this inside joke: someone was having an IM conversation with this guy and the guy said “I don’t want to sound gay, but I just have all these emotions.” And later that night Jared was all “Oh no, I’d better not have emotions or I’m gay!” It was great fun. He wore my pants for a while when his mom came over, he didn’t want to disturb her with his red and black striped skirt and matching thigh-highs. They looked so good on him, I had to commend myself on my taste in clothes. I like Jared’s style as well, it’s very unique. Hm. I guess I should go to sleep but I’m not tired. Hm indeed. I wonder what I’m going to end up saying to Andrew tomorrow. Fuck. I’m never going to get over this. Ever. DAMN ME AND MY SENTIMENTALITY. Why can’t I be just be a quotidian hedonist, unfettered by those rediculous aspirations for the absurd bullshit of “true love?” Damn my quixotic actions. I love my thesaurus. I mean, if you’re going to look up one word you might as well use a few more. I have read all those words before, I just had to refresh my memory on their exact definitions. I should attempt to use more–college-level words. Hm. I should remove those words those sentences got too verbose, they killed what I was trying to say. Eh, fuck it. I’m kind of hungry, I think I’m going to make myself a sandwich. And change this CD, I’m not a big fan of early Manson.
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> Ivor – Shoe Hanger
> Ivor – Get Away From The Wall
Jared got me hooked on Ivor–he was like this thirties radio comedian, he has the funniest songs. Shoe Hanger is the best so far, I downloaded a bunch, I’m going to listen to them on the way to Crescent City. Taggart is online again, a strange occurrence since it’s three in the morning, but I’m not going to talk to him. Why bother? Eh. I’m going to go read some porn stories. Escape the world through other peoples’ sexual fantasies. Most of them are really amusing. I love reading the fantasies about celebrities, they are hideously amusing. I’ve had HGTV on for the last five or six hours on mute. All these spaces being redecorated, all the closet niches and sconces and wallpaper accent fabrics–it’s the most banal thing on television. I think I’m going to switch to the Style Channel. Hmm. I wonder if channels are capitalized. ah, the glory that is the style channel. I love Fashion Trance–all the models and music–it’s the perfect model for hyperreality. In removing fashion from all human context, it becomes hyperreal. I feel the need to quote Baudrillard, but I’m in the middle of Lullaby. It’s so good, I’m halfway through it already. Taggart is probably looking at porn right now. Hm, I forgot to note whether his computer was in his room or not. Well, it’s three in the morning, he can probably just masturbate in the living room with a high safety factor. Hmm. Damn my lack of remote-controlled antigravity wireless video cameras. I really want an Elastica poster, I’ve been looking at the CD cover and the composition is amazing. It’s like–a Rembrandt. I love it. Well, I should be going. I’m going to go imagine what Andrew is probably doing right now.
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I don’t know if I explained this–so I might as well. Better twice than never. The whole thing with smoking was when I was going out with Andrew he would always go outside for a cigarette so I’d always follow him and stand there feeling like I should have a cigarette in my hand, so I would just light it, fill my mouth with smoke occasionally, and ash it until it was gone. It was kind of amusing, he would say I was wasting them, and I would argue that it was more logical to waste them than to smoke them. Eh, memories. Remembering my arguments with him are bittersweet, because they would always end with one of us saying shut up and kiss me. Damn it. Edward and I are so right, the world needs cyborg sex slaves. Hm, I haven’t seen him in a while, I wonder how he’s doing. Molly is trying to get me to go to this Digital Something class on Saturday, it sounds interesting but I don’t know if it’s free or not. After a day or so of Jon, I’ll probably need a respite. She said something about it not being free for Drift Staff because the teacher didn’t have enough people signed up. well, I should go–Lullaby is beckoning from the couch.
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