03.Aug.2001

Shunt

--

Sometimes

I've noticed a good portion of the Shunt regulars are getting diaries, whether by me forcing them into it or on their own accord. Chris stumbled in upon his own accord, whereas Ben was forced by the tiny aggression that is me. Ben has just moved and should be getting settled into the new place shortly, which gives me plenty of time to link his candy ass to my heart's content.

We were all bound by the love that is Recoil, the spoiled brain-child of former Depeche Mode genius Alan Wilder. If you haven't checked it out, go now and be humbled.

Nothing is new with me. I'm steadily going in streams of complete listlessness into another randomly arid, Summer evening. I still haven't found my perfect boy yet. Not that I don't have all the time in the world, or all the time in my world. Tonight, I splashed around in a creek and came home to a whirl-pool bath, and I may tuck myself away with diary entries. The perfect balance of myself is caught between being a voyeur and an exhibitionist. I love to watch and be watched. Pretty soon, I will end this entry on the fact my cells are once again restless, and I'm filled with the consuming impatience to do something with myself.

Watch me.

--

time & machine