Today has sucked. In only three hours, the world has turned to shit. Well, I tred to get to sleep early, but it didn’t work, so I read Fight Club for a while, then lit a cigarette and gave myself some cigarette burns. The smoke reminded me of Taggart. He smoked Camels. Then I started reading Into The Forest again to try to find the part where the sisters had sex. Amanda didn’t remember the sex part. I found little scraps of paper in the book, and I realized that I had last lent it to Taggart. The really sad thing is that I was expecting to see one that read “I love you, I can’t live without you.” Like he cared enough about me to write “I love you” on little scraps of paper. I hate him. I am so unrealistic. I have two e-mails. They’re both notification messages of comments on my blog. Fucking great. The cigarette burns kind of hurt. I was never able to inflict pain on myself as a teenager. Maybe I’m getting closer to hitting bottom. I put some Bactine on my burns. I am so lame.
I can’t get Taggart out of my head. We would sleep together every night, I would wake up in his arms. I loved him so much. He would smile at me while he smoked his cigarettes. Maybe he was thinking as he smiled: “God, what a sucker. He believes this line of bullshit. It works on guys just as well as it works on chicks.” I loved him so much. I can’t help but remember how his hands would smell like cigarettes. I loved his smell, I loved holding him. I loved kissing him. I loved our random sex acts. I can hardly watch a movie I own and not remember what we did while watching it. I remember crying in his arms at the end of Requiem for a Dream. I wanted to love him forever. I wanted to marry him. I wanted to raise a family with him. The world sucks. I’m up too late and my burns burn. The cigarette was really symbolic because it was a Camel and Taggart only smoked Camels. It was like it was his being searing into my flesh. I hate him and love him at the same time. I just want a smart, stylish person to love. Is that so wrong? Is it? God damn. I bookmarked the part in Into The Forest where her and her sister have sex. I’ll show it to Amanda. In arguments, I’m usually right. Well, I guess it’s better than being wrong all the time. Jordan hasn’t called me lately, maybe he’s read my blog. I sincerely don’t care. I do want my rollerblades back though. Oh, I used up a roll of film tonight taking pictures of myself. I hope some of them come out looking cool, I now have two rolls of 200 speed film to develop. I hope there’s some HC110 in the lab, cuz she isn’t going to mix up any more (the semester is over).
I’m supposed to have a Religions paper in addition to my term paper written and I’m supposed to have my analysis chart thingy done. Fuck. I need to show up for class. I don’t know what to do. I need someone to be with–to share some kind of human connection–someone to hold, someone to contemplate the meaning of existence with. Life sucks. And not in a “Woohoo you have a tounge piercing!” way, in a “Gosh, did you just almost bite it off on purpose?” way. I miss Taggart. Bad. Titty-fuck, I’m never going to meet anybody. Well, at least not in this shit hole town. I can’t wait another year until I transfer. I want a boi now, damn it. I got a junk mail–let’s see what it is. I’m guessing penis enlargement. Or fake diplomas. Damn, it’s one of those ones where they claim to be a foriegn government official and say some crap about a financial transaction. My burns are swelling up. The tops of them are white. I need to go to sleep. I’ve abdicated all my responsibility. I’m a failure. Hmm, I just thought of a good idea–next time my wrist carpal tunnel thing hurts I’ll give myself a cigarette burn and that’ll take my mind off the pain. Probably not for long enough though. Hmm. I wonder what my blog word count is at, I think I’m getting close to my 700th post. Posting every day, it’ll probably take a while to get to 1000. Probably until the end of the year.
I miss Taggart so much. I just want to hold him and cry and have him tell me that I’m beautiful and that he will love me forever. But right now he’s probably getting a hummer from “Katie” in the backseat of her car. No, “Katie” isn’t cool enough to be awake at 3:25 in the morning. Actually, Taggart’s probably jerking off. He is an obsessive masturbator. I never masturbated when we were going out, which was weird for me. I loved him so much. But all he wanted me for was to be able to go “I cheated on my girlfriend–with a guy!” Fuck him. And not literally. But, being around people I hate raises my level of sarcasm to razor-sharpness. If only I could use my powers for good instead of evil. Being around hot guys does that too. I like impressing people with my intellect, and sarcasm is one of the best ways of doing it. I don’t know–when I get bad grades in classes I go “Gosh, maybe I’m dumb,” and then I go “You’re not dumb, you just missed the first two weeks of class and got hopelessly behind.” It was partly my fault. Everything is my fault. I could have done the lab notebooks. But they wouldn’t have helped. I was already doomed. I want to give Taggart an easily transmissable STD. One that would be complicated and nasty–like herpes! Or genital warts! Trouble is I’d have to get it to give it to him. And I think you can get genital warts burned off. Damn it, back to the drawing board.
It’s almost four. I need to get to sleep. My new years resolution was to get addicted to a drug, but I haven’t really found a habit that I can fit into my budget. Everything is too expensive. I was going to buy some sleeping pills (for nights like this) but they’re like freaking seven dollars. Seven dollars! I could stand in the parking lot with a baseball bat and charge seven dollars to put people to sleep. God damn. It would be a good investment though. Maybe I will buy them. I’ll get the ones that don’t say “non-habit-forming” on them. And I’ll get some nicotine patches. I want to get high on nicotine. That would be so freaking cool. Maybe I’ll do it for my birthday. I’d probably throw up or something, but it would be all in good fun. And I’d drink too, which would make it amazing. I hear Jordan tell his STUPID drinking anecdotes, and I don’t want my drug use stories to be that BORING. I want to get wasted on nicotine patches. That would be fucking cool. I could work up a tolerance to them and then just cut myself off. So cool. Maybe that will be the project this summer.
I don’t know what’s going on with the newspaper, nobody (including me) got their stuff in so it’s just going to turn into a summer issue–nothing really is time-sensitive in it. Joni didn’t turn in her profile of Amanda. I’m just going to have to interview Amanda and write the story. But that means I have to do my coffee shop story. Titty-fuck. I feel like watching a movie. The Doom Generation is in my DVD player, I can turn that on without moving too much, but I don’t feel like watching it. I’m more in a Blade Runner mood. Taggart and I just had okay sex to The Doom Generation, but we had great sex to Blade Runner. We had amazing sex to Crash, but it’s kind of hard not to have great sex to Crash. Ah, memories. I think one of my fondest memories of our relationship was masturbating each other on the couch while watching Crash. It was so great, an expression of my favorite quote from the book version of Crash.
“I was a kind of emotional cassette, taking place with all those scenes of pain and violence the illuminated the margins of our lives–television newsreels of wars and student ritos, natural disasters and police brutality which we vaguely watched on the colour TV set in our bedroom as we masturbated each other.”
Glorious. I love J.G. Ballard. Well, I must go and try to sleep. There’s photography lab tonight, I guess that’s something to live for. I wish I felt like having sex. Maybe I’ll just watch some porn for the novelty of it. Hmm. I wonder if I’ll see Molly tomorrow. I wonder if she watched the DVD I lent her. Oh, I found Crash as an ebook. That’s kind of cool. I need to print out my old blog entries, but I don’t know which month I last printed out. They’re in my room, I should look. Okay, the last one I printed out was October 2003. God damn, that’s a lot of old posts. Maybe I’ll go in there really early in the morning when nobody is there to print them out. They make a good five bucks for every month of entries. That’s a lot of months. Poop. I have seventeen dollars. Maybe that will be enough. I’ll see about it tomorrow. If I wake up. And that’s a damn big if. Especially since it’s now 3:57 in the morning. I miss Taggart so bad, I think I’m going to go back and read some of my posts from when we were going out and I was in love. That will either be heartbreaking or nostalgic. We’ll see.
i really enjoy reading your journal. hope you are doing well. <3 jeff