30.Dec.2001
unnecessary
--
like passion on your sleeve
I promised myself to update here before the end of the year. Lately, I've been hand-writing my whims into various records, and have lost complete track of time of the online domain. I am slicing the ties to this universe in half with abandon.
It's difficult to put the past 24 hours into perspective. There is a tension among my circle of insane cronies that erupts in half-joking spurts of physical violence between the testosterone-driven members of this group. It resulted in Jay demonstrating exactly how strong he can be by lifting me up into the air by my knees, exhaling onto my face as I locked my legs around his waist and slid down him. Lightly, we'll let the others into our universe, and then close the floodgates as soon as they opened. Our alternate universe is seeping into the wooden confines of this living room.
I spend hours piecing sentences together to form the perfect page for my novel, all by observing the way the others react around each other. Tension. Lips jut. Ribs jut. It is forgotten as soon as it was broached, the calm before the storm, Fight Club has ruined me.
I think of the days in October when I willingly moved myself in such a way I took an active role in destroying a bond with someone else, but time has proven that bonds of this caliber cannot, in essence, be destroyed.
I tell everyone it's the greatest thing about this type of chemistry: It can be put on hold for years merely to resume itself in the same, impassioned state as before.
I hold slight doubts, when I see youth and pettiness seethe from Said Person's direction, only I inevitably brush it to the back of my mind.
I have concluded what I'm experiencing is not life.
For the New Year, I absolve my past while I ressurect it, all before putting it to sleep.
My identity crisis is lifting.
I am also drunk.
I leave you all to wait with baited (ha) breath before my next update, which will be well past the New Year.
I am finding words to be useless as time bleeds on; have a safe and happily drunken-filled New Year, and fuck a stripper just for me.
--
time & machine