tags: rhymeless
1999
August
- 1999 Aug 28
- I Know My Desire
I know my desire
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and yet I do not know
how I can make it Be - 1999 Aug 28
- Hope - First Draft
Hope
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is sweet honey
but is also like
bee stings in my mouth - 1999 Aug 28
- Hope - Final
Hope
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is sweet honey
but is also bee stings in my mouth - 1999 Aug 28
- Dawn
Dawn
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September
- 1999 Sep 7
- The Summation of All Consequences
The HTML is, in some sick way, slow. Perhaps I HAVE learned to write faster than I type. I don't know why I delude myself (on several levels at once, no less), thinking that somehow I'll resolve this madness by writing it all down, but I suppose I will know the summation of all consequences on, of all days, my birthday. Yes, all my questions will be asnwered, and I will be free to plot my course in as haphazard a manner as I might like (assuming the worst. It's easier that way.)
· Read more… - 1999 Sep 27
- Loneliness
Let's talk about loneliness. It is, after all, [redacted]'s birthday, two years since my debacle. I still love her, if you can call my mania love. But I don't know what the point of this is. I suppose I miss the idea of being loved, of being important, in a unique way, to one person alone.
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2000
July
- 2000 Jul 6
- Rhymeless
Ideas: the Satyrcorn, and ridculomalaria
· Read more… - 2000 Jul 7
- Averted Madness
Averted madness, I will now write in crypticisms and perhaps try to make some sense of this. I should have been born Roman, tring to interpret all these augries. Or perhaps the priesthood is my calling?
· Read more… - 2000 Jul 9
- Dichotomy
Definitely crazy. Time for some electroconvulsive shock therapy.
· Read more… - 2000 Jul 9
- After the Binge
So it's like the morning after the binge, and all that you can really do is puke it all up, hoping with each puke that it'll be the last, you'll feel better, the deadly poison gone. But you've been drunk often enough, you know it doesn't stop, not even when you're all empty. It only diminishes, like a knife blunting with every true strike, until you force yourself to hold something down, damn the pain. And still you're empty, unsettled, disturbed mentally and physically, wanting to die just as much, if not more than when you drunk yourself into a stupor in the first place, worse because the woozy carefree oblivion is now just a wracking throb, and why, oh why, is it so goddamn pointless?
· Read more… - 2000 Jul 9
- Conundrum
Tried to make a few calls to help me solve my conundrum. Wouldn't you know it, no answers. As I suspected, this is something I've got to do for myself.
· Read more… - 2000 Jul 12
- Gray Morning
It is interesting that N has adopted (independently [of me]) a fatalistic flip side to my theory: Nothing is real until it is shared. While I would emphasize the fragile
· Read more…transcience1 transience of creative thought and the need to commit things to paper if direct communication is not available, she would declare that bad things wouldn't happen if you didn't mention them. It isn't just a simple aversion to ill-speaking, but rather, like I said, a type of fatalismm: if you imagine a bad thing, and share it, it can't help but come true… - 2000 Jul 14
- Escaping
Well, I am escaping, really. I know this is true because the treacly, molasses-like, sappy feelings in my heart are still stirring. I cannot put her out of my mind (I do not want to put her out of my mind) and I marvel at AB's fortitude, given that he has much more going for him… (what I would give for a sligh fraction of such hope) and still he is sure, he will not turn back on his path. I, with much less hope, am willing, still unsure why I must walk this road, this road likely to lead to my damnation, if I cannot hold it in.
· Read more… - 2000 Jul 18
- Self-Deception
…I know this deception well, writing (scratching, really) onto decaying matter, dead sinews of a tree, thinking I am capturing some pure essence of life, not just me, but all around me. I do nothing but observe, I, the weaver of these many threads of lives, otherwise unsung. I am breath of Life, immortality. I give voice. I represent.
· Read more… - 2000 Jul 25
- Three Weeks Off
OK, I'm slacking. There's a lot of shit to do. I essentially have another three weeks off… I only really have class on Mondays and Tuesdays. I really have to force myself to write every day. If I had known… I would've really wanted to take a trip somewhere, but it's too late to get a cheap fare. I must write that e-mail to [redacted]. I don't know why I even bother. This is going to drive me insane.
· Read more… - 2000 Jul 26
- Resignation
I don't know why I didn't feel so bad today. Maybe I've resigned myself to my fate. Maybe e-mailing everybody and their mom let me vent a little. I mean, sure, I balked a little when I saw [redacted]'s e-mail sitting in my inbox. [I was] afraid. But [reading it] I didn't feel much, just a [light touch] of regret. I've no intention of returning to L.A. any time soon. As I've said, I've begun to equate it with happiness and [also] with being trapped.
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August
- 2000 Aug 7
- Dreaming of Poetry
OK, this every other day thing kind of stinks. I really have to do this every day. There's a lot of shit going through my mind, enough for me to get lost in, so I've got to make it a point to sort it out.
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2002
December
- 2002 Dec 8
- Post
“Are you postal today?” the on-call resident asked the post-call resident. No, I suppose none of this is really coherent at all.
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