09.July.2001
summertime
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it's a nice day to start again
The heat has officially fucked with my brain-tide. Add copious amounts of alcohol to the remaining brain cells, and we have intense retardation. Living back in Oklahoma has also fucked with me. I am fighting drama with comedy, hope with expectation, strength with nudity, not necessarily succeeding.
My head is in flames.
I am not answering personal e-mail for a reason, that of which I'd rather not divulge to a javascript box with pink and blue homosexual daisies lining it. Obviously, I don't run a pink-upon-blue atmosphere, but it has nothing to do with those closest to me, or those who were close, then drifted back. It has nothing to do with you.
I should stop acting so goddamned abstract. Mostly, the drama here is killing me like the heat. As an intense distraction I spent the 4th of July in the van of a younger, clueless boy who drove frantically down the high-way; the clouds were magenta, breaking, tender dusk; by the time we reached the amusement park, the fireworks ejaculated into a dark-blue haze of twilight. I watched them through the windows of the van, which were open, blowing me fiercely as we continued to drive, distance, speed, explosions, colour, exhaustion, intense silence. It was mystifying.
The other night, I drank so much I forgot an entire hour of my life; I do remember calling Ben several times to tell him, drunkenly, that I loved him for being one of the only distractions that pulled me through June. I think he told me to hang my dumbass up.
The maniac with the van has somehow managed to instill a kind of luster into my life through his brief appearances.
Tonight is hot; my thoughts are hot. My mouth is hot. My idiocies are hot and demanding, I'm sweating into the stillness, the sound of crickets and ceiling fans and quiet suburbia.
But ice, salt, skin, lying amongst the sun-stained grass, to the center of the summer aridity, and languid clouds draped across my boy-enveloped body somehow makes it worthwhile.
As I said, the heat has officially fucked with my brain-tide.
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time & machine