For real, Dinah

I need to use this time in my life to focus more on more collaborative efforts. The "This is the Sound of How I Feel For You" tape series has slowed down, as I'm not as completely insane as I was before. I can't seem to write a decent song or make a decent art unless there is some great emotional conflict in my life. All I have is the conflict of my ambivalence toward nearly everything, besides that toward which I feel solely apathy.









Primarily, everything that I encounter in life is unattractive. Albeit, there are a few things which are sexy. These things are:
1. Vulnerability
2. The music of John Maus
3. Highwaters

Not to be confused with that which is romantic, for there are many other things that fall under such a category. Raconteurs, the French Language, old-school chivalry, and so on. It's just really cool when you remember that there are at least three sexy things that exist out there, and occasionally you cross paths with them.






I used to dream when I was younger that I'd be some kind of genius, but I don't really do much of anything I guess.

A really neat thing happened today. I was stung by a wasp, and this kid told me to stick tobacco on it. The nicotine draws out the venom, which creates a sense of relief and reduces swelling.



It's weird - I just keep thinking "I'm really lonely, and that stinger is still inside of my leg."

If the day came when I felt a natural emotion, I'd get such a shock I'd probably jump in the ocean

When I was in 7th grade, I wrote a play that the school performed, called "Untitled". It was about a boy, played by myself, who was the outcast/androgynous punk kid at school. Everyone made really bad fun of me for that. I sat on my computer and listened to the Clash and wished I was a cool older person who wrote hip blogs instead of plays.



But here I am, jobless, listening to the Clash on my computer, writing in my hip blog, and I'd give anything to be a freaky 7th grader who wrote plays, and who did not have the lungs of someone who has smoked for 7 years.

I'd give anything to be there, in love for the first time ever; doing every single thing for the first time ever.

This is
what I'm
thinking about
constantly



I want to be held

It's so hard for me to talk to a guy I like - I just end up talking about vulveeta or dog lipsticks.

My only fashion icon

Though mostly numb to his death, sometimes one thing hits me so hard that I cry immediately. Today, when I thought about how he died just months before getting to hear just aaaaaa sec mooore in myyyy beeeeeeed, or a memory of him lying next to me, saying he had bad skin, when I thought it was perfectly beautiful skin.




And it really was.

"Someone should be so lucky to have such beautiful songs written for them."

But it's going to be ok in time, because really all things are, and because I'm not self-destructive - I just have feelings which assist me in understanding what it's like. This is why it will be ok in time, and also because the things that you feel about someone else are mostly just projections of yourself. You reject the things you hate in yourself, and most of the time just love things in other people based on the web of aesthetic specifications you've made in your mind. Whether that devalues it or not, what matters is that it can be projected onto anyone; anything.

I W O I C H

And also because the darkness that is the trees on the side of the road at night, the pain in my heart, my skinned knee, my numb fingers, the longest hardest fullest laugh, the pain in my heart, the most/least sheepish smile, the other you in the forest, having tears kissed away, the awful pain in my heart, the feeling when it stops, the occasional recurrence, and the feeling of wanting to die will all be ok, will be more than ok, and then will be gone in time.