it has been a long time since i last updated this journal. how do i recover three months that have changed everything about how i live and how i think? i don't know if it's possible ( Read more... )

thanksgiving is over and my family is dysfunctional. then they look at me like i'm too complex when i get up to go outside when the conversations become too much. whatever. i'm thankful for:::: my car, that carried me away. and of course, my dysfunctional family that never gets boring.

all too weird. brianne and i are friends agian. we're going to a play tonight. i've missed her and didn't realize how much till we hung out on wednesday ( Read more... )

chicago is a depressing city. georgia never looked sooo good. never have i been so surrounded by so many unpleasent people. if i look at one more book, i think i'll scream. and i've come back to georgia- questioning nearly everything. do i want this life?

what a weekend. i'm still floating. guillermo fucking gomez-pena! what a head rush. can't believe i actually got to work with him. i gave him one of my poems and we made a toast to apocolypic poetry at brewers. emiko, his assistant, i wish lived closer than san fransico- we exchanged e-mails but i wonder if she'll write. aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh i can't ( Read more... )

it always amazes me how people can be so fickle. one minute they're your friend-your comrade- the next they can't even speak to you at a party. i don't get it and i guess i never will. preteniousness is one of my BIGGEST annoyances, and somehow everybody is an asshole. i'm gonna go throw up now.

what a drag. so many artistic people in one room, and not one of them will talk about what they are doing-creating-ah, i'm socially frustrated! is anybody out there? can we all just get real instead of talking in drunken banter language? ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

my neighbors ignore my existence. bitches. nothing new, nothing old here. ah, asheville is calling me. i'm going to look at UNC while i'm up there cause i'm considering getting my masters from there. english, i think, but i've also give theology a thought. this seminar project has got me thinking about religion. i'm really interested in different ( Read more... )

the story sits on my desk. it has been for weeks and taking a permenant place on my fingers. they hurt. the story is no good, kid. this is what i want to say to myself to let it breath and live. funny, the line i walk between art imitating life and being anything at all. i don't want to be understood. i've come to find it's the downfall. let them ( Read more... )

this is how the night goes: smoke half a pack of cigarettes, attempt to get drunk but my tolerance is up, try to write a good sentence, fail and try agian, write the to-do lists for tomorrow (half of which i know are humanly impossible), try and focus on reading (moby dick is going to bury me), stare at hemingway's picture on my desk for a few ( Read more... )