09.Sep.2003
i just read 'i like it when you're shallow and trite' on someone's guestbook
--
and it somehow seems to fit the very expression i have for others this morning
I told three separate individuals that I saw no point in them wasting my time by existing in my life. The past month has crushed my patience.
--
Incessant headache. Eyes pulsate.
--
Visiting my mom in the hospital today, I learned she relapsed. This is due to a bacterial infection that pushed her temperature to one-hundred-and-four degrees Fahrenheit. She's on oxygen, but she's off the ventilator. Obviously.
It's wearing on me.
--
My stomach is intermittently set ablaze, during which point I puke violently.
--
Essentially, I've been living alone for twenty-seven days, as opposed to living with Asian Adonis, The Modern Day Zeus, and The Whitest Black Guy Plus Best Oklahoma Drinking Partner.
When Vance, TWBGPBODP, and I drink, we take our vodka straight and wash it back with Tecates. We even hold each other's hair back over the toilet-bowl if it gets to that point, even though Vance has no hair and I come equipped with hair-ties.
--
I never turn any lights on unless I have to. I concentrate more on composing or entertainment.
At nights, I stretch my mighty five-foot-three frame out on a long davenport with a Shiner Bock in hand and watch movies. My three favorites are Intacto (I love Max von Sydow), Basic (I loved the ending), and Me Without You (Oliver Milburn is astounding). The latter makes me wish even more I had been born a decade earlier. God fucking bless late 70s British music. It's a chick movie, but oh so surly. I digress.
Then, I return to composing.
It's coming along beautifully, truly. Two sonatas conquered. A few more to come. Gave a semi-private, candle-lit performance and was extolled accordingly, which lit me up like some reasonable facsimile of a Chinese New Year.
Some Reasonable Facsimile is my Depeche Mode rip-off band-name, as I just this very second explained to K.
My newest conquest is my rendition of The Human League's "You're My Obsession", which is a kind of massively and brutally tongue-in-cheek ode to someone whose cheek is currently not in my tongue's vicinity.
The Human League is totally into this kind of thing. Open your heart, you want me, I really want to sleep with you. It goes straight to a synth slut's tart-touched core.
Really, this has been my salvation; my little private, musical Shangri-la. It doesn't get weirded out when I stare at it for long periods of time. It has been the thing to pull me out of bed, mandatory bed-pulling events notwithstanding.
--
I'm exhausted, spent, sober, among other tiring adjectives. My esophagus throbs. I looked at various pictures of various landscapes and my heart veritably ached. My moods have been fluctuating. If I'm not out doing mundane tasks, walling myself up at the hospital with my mother, bailing friends out of jail, or writing, I am here, online, and I do not think I enjoy being online, anymore.
--
Jason, my musical comrade for life, is in Arizona receiving physical inspiration for his record; I'm smoking Benson and Hedges in Oklahoma, attempting to stack trebles.
--
I'm sleeping sporadically and nakedly. It's comfortable when it comes.
--
A friend of mine has a lover located on the other end of the United States; she admitted she was having a difficult time sleeping alone after visiting aforementioned lover.
I, however, love sleeping alone.
--
Giz, My Special Little Guy(tm), informed me last night that he is getting back together with his stupidly and emotionally abusive waste-of-two-bountiful-breasts ex-girlfriend. I used to sugar-coat things with everyone. As soon as I took word of this, I said, "I'm very disappointed in you. You are seriously being a fool."
I would have hoped someone of my cousinage would sustain their emotional independence, but look who's fucking typing. I just married a musical instrument.
--
This entry is going nowhere. The color scheme is tempting my headache. I hate this ash-tray. My stomach has been harboring plans to murder me. Where in the hell did 1:00am go?
This concludes my trite and shallow entry.
--
time & machine