things have been going lately--i feel this strange pulling though as if I might be going further down--two days ago I felt really--well safe, okay--but now i feel very weary and sad like I know no one and nothing like I just can't get it I want to run so far. i wish i hope he'd run with me. I really do--i just don't want to know anything know anyone not even what color is anymore--if you don't have a name for it it's yours isn't it.

tired of myself and all this indulgence

I have been reading the coming insurrection because Jack bought it for me. I am very much into it I love the idea any idea of extreme manifestos. The futurist manifesto is another I enjoy to just read and love how passionate and insane they were how i wish to be this way. Anyway one chapter in this book appears to me as a reoccurring conversation I have been having with my self, rather conflicted insane ramble, for years-- 70% of german youth say they want to become artists-- the idea that everyone is something cool that what they are doing is great and smart and talented and well of course marketable. It use to make me hate everyone I thought they were all indolent over indulgent fools--I was of course one of them but better of course because well I KNEWWWWWW and was AWARE--oh how i have failed myself completely

I am a capitalistic american mother fucker and I am self pitying myself by writing it in a blog I am humoring myself and embarrassed and ashamed, maybe if I write this all down then maybe I will quit--

I want all these things to quiet and yet I have to purchase this go to this doctor go here start this do that in order to calm down--feel at peace-- its hilarious and stupid and i know every one knows but do we? Because its consuming all of me--it is me-- and now i'm scared

it's not just get a job get a wife get a mortgage have kids pay for there college golf when your retired die-- kill all dreams you have ever had work fifty to seventy hours squash all relationships for a hope of success by purchasing more and more in order to die of something the doctors still can't cure.--Its so much, well plainly, sadder.

where is the way out? Where is the crack in the system and how do I attain it? hide, become an austere monk, fuck it all, do drugs, keep on keeping on? Spend more money? wake up next morning, paranoia, zantex

sleep

back

new year new posts--


i will again be writing in this stupid thing because my journal is eligible

plus i have to start actually finishing my fucking play

happy 2010

Things have been strange but nice. I am trying to work on a piece of so called vignettes of the breaking moments nothing more or less I'm sick of fluff these days the actual story part. I am interested in nothing more than the moments every person shares no matter how old they get or how stupid or inexperienced or ugly or less than. we are all less than. Problem is who wants to see a bunch of absolutely true and depressing moments where people ache to have someone hold there hand. I was thinking in the end to have one person finally help the last person--or who I begin with to have the other vignettes be in her memory as if the stories people do share with us really do help us along the way if we remember they felt this way it could be some kind of armor that when we truly are alone we know someone once or even now has suffered in such a way--and by suffer i mean the moment when we either remember, reaffirm or just learn that ultimately we only have ourselves. Yes how depressing oh so french new wave of me but really. maybe I need to deal witht his concept too...

what's your problem it is not mine! no sir it is not!

tired, but productive mentally--my mind has been in overdrive I am thankful but im sure tired. I have to find new ways to manifest who i believe myself to be-even if I am nothing more than weight-definite space--pushing through indefinite space-- honest and articulate no more guilt six shooting hoodlum smoking over indulged fakester pushers--why hate the ones who need it the most--

the will to change

I picked up in the library the other day THREE BOOKS not even apart from each other--used books--it was a beautiful sign from well myself outwardly manifested through three of my favorite writers of all time

Adrienne Rich's THE WILL TO CHANGE

Joyce's Dubliners

and a collection of moliere's plays

I got to meet with joe Zucker which was amazing but I will post about that later because he deserves more than a fucking blog entry because it is the fucking real deal--what a wondrous and quirky inspiration I love his art his way of life and genuine sincerity...that may be redundant but when am I not?

Anyway I feel as if lately I wish I could sleep stop being in a god damn transition waiting period, but on the upside I am exploring such beauty in concepts--reading being in nothingness, Adrienne rich's exquisite and bone chilling poetry--

I think it is so interesting how much I latch onto words--how the order of such a system can bring us to such places not only mentally but physically-- the importance of words, they are under the illusion that talking effects GREAT results..or at least i do with the amount of words that I exhale a day--why can't i shut up? words are as a rule the shallowest portion of all the argument..when the distractions of the tongue is removed the heart listens.... hows that for a quote--from the oh so painful sister carrie--wonderful piece from such a terrible piece of literature.

how can someone lie to themselves for this long and still exist--if no one knows the truth of ones actions if no one ever hears or sees them do they really never matter? i know i know if a tree falls and no one hears it fuck me in the ass did it ever really fall...

i am so fucking determined to find out.

I am so determined to find out why legitimately fictionalized concepts: guilt, fear, judgment, hate, right, wrong, it all can have such a physical effect on me--can rule all aspects of my life

how can i run from institutionalized and a marginalized life I really know in my heart I do not want...

what do I want for that matter? What do I want to be--not what do i want to do but what do i want to literally be--human? spirit--water rain and the moon? or simply nothing but something that needs to exhale, inhale and repeat--a conditioned and ordinary structured human. I wish i could reject all my emotions--attachments. we all crave freedom--- where can I find it

je m'en fois !!!!

I'm still into the Born Ruffians lately--it is just too good to stop its like the right "teenage" but i graduated college angst I need right now-- I got the internship at Tamarind Gallery--its a contemporary indian gallery which is amazing and eye opening-- and tonight mom and dad and I talked it was open and calm and i feel really grateful right now-- it feels nice that they want to support my decision to move to brooklyn and they are saying start! so it feels good. im drinking tea and it feels nice as well. I have been thinking about Dash Snow lately--it makes me as sad as it does angry to say Fuck you Dash snow--if you are an artist why am i not you fuck. It's not his fault but aeriously? it is fun in the words of dreiss to enjoy the ride of hedonistic drama that is his polirads or body of work if you can call it that. Anyway Greg is leaving soon and I am going to miss him so much I am really lucky to have such a grand and smart brother who is truly in everyway sincere and kind and the fucking funniest person ever-- I just hope he does well and that he actually is in bliss-- no one deserves it more. seriously NO ONE. Im going down to d.c. soon i think but im starting to feel old feelings of hate and a need for acceptance which really bothers me. And even the thought of James trancendes me into a hang over--tequlia, vomit, and stale beer filmed over my teeth, that moment when the breaks pull forward and your waiting for the release backward, which aches your brain and makes vomit rise in your stomach. I can't even think of him anymore--why can't he just be kind? I hate never knowing what goes on in his head--and its funny cause hes the only person I can't figure out so therefore I think hes meant for me? What am I a lifetime movie--I just wish we could be friends and could smile in each others honor--for real though no in some way where we both die a little after or one of us does at least--which may be worse

now kevin devine is on and therefore I can no focus on anything but the DOLCENT TONES OF MY FAVORITE GINGER WOLF MOUTH LOVEYYYYYYY

now i can laugh--

the last few weeks--

Guns and smoke

Today I found a letter james wrote me nearly two and half years ago-- thats how long it has been since we were actually anything and we still talk still pretend--it makes me sick, he makes me sick but most of all i make myself sick. I really miss the feeling of loving someone but then i start to think did i ever really love him or did I love the feeling? Did i love being able to never feel alone and if I for a second doubted this life or myself--he was there. I guess thats all it is a distraction. A good one at that. I'm angry and upset I resent everyone and mostly him, I just wish I could feel like that again for someone else--that I could also make someone feel really good--we could talk about everything-- how lame I know I know. I just don't get how things get so far gone--he wrote in a letter how much he loved to kiss me make love to me smell me or just talk because nothing was like that for him--no one or anything in his life meant more than our relationship. And the funny thing is I never asked him to write the letter or say any of it. I believed it so much and I still do, what I can't believe is how much on person can change. Where does all that love go? I feel nothing sometimes I cry but most of all I just begin to feel tears or that panic set in when you actually start to wish tears could come. I stare myself in the mirror less and less and every time I am back in this room the ghosts appear and I am all alone--I have to get back to oblivion I must, I must. Do we really have choices in this life? Why can't I be enough--why must i be a woman. Why must I crave intimacy, or even more to my shame, crave that ache of bliss in my stomach when nothing could be better than a look a look I know all to well. In the beginning-always--which inevitably ends--an adoring tempted look which tells me how much I am worth.
How pathetic can I be? If I know this all to be true--How can I still do this--An udder disappointment I am. What I would give to be a man, an island
i took these yesterday to remind myself how much I mean to the opposite sex--How much i mean in this life--I'm nothing but noise and fucking smoke

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kveFPYbUek

I don't know how to put a youtube video on because im fucking stupid. i love this song.