I wish pain was tangible.

We would walk down the street, carrying it on our backs.

We would see each other, finally understanding.

( Read more... )

I wanted to tell her she was talking to a corpse; I didn't have the heart to.

My unborn child has been aborted. Metaphorically speaking, of course. You see-if you don’t already know-the movie I’ve been working on for three months has been shut down due a certain library ordinance. Many people have told me to walk off quietly, but I intend not to give up until the noose is around my neck (in actuality, the hangman would ( Read more... )

Many people say they’re afraid of the dark; I’m filled with dread when light is bursting out of my blinds. Yes, it’s true: the start of a new day is overflowing with possibilities, but I tend to focus on what could go wrong (Editor’s note: it’s safe to say an entry like this could only mark the beginning of September, a time of year when summer is ( Read more... )

Finally, my rap album--M.C. Currency, D.J. Pantaloons, and the Family: "We Invented the Song"--is complete! I cannot fathom why it took more than a year and a half to finish, but whatever. Anyway, copies are available to anyone who wants one.

Okay, this is just an entry consisting of entries from my old journal, since that one is now defunct; just wanted to back them up. Read on, if you like: they're pretty funny. So much has changed in the last two years. Wow.

Tossed Salads, India, and Other Unhygienic Subjects2001-08-24 1:37 PM ( Read more... )

It seems like I’m always revising my profile, always updating my journal-changing trivial things with the push of a virtual button. Nothing alters inside and around me, though. I make the same mistake all the time: inviting people into my life who end up trashing it, leaving me to clean up alone. What is the answer? Should I just cut off all ( Read more... )

I overanalyze things; that’s a bit vague, not to mention simplified, but true to an extent. However, I think it depends on the topic. Many subjects beg to be dissected, such as the third assassin in Macbeth, Camus’ unfinished manuscript, or how my pure love for scented markers could spiral into a near-death experience ( Read more... )

I drew a picture of you today ( Read more... )