God I hate her.

God I hate her. The ex called today, had some dumb assed idea in her head that it would be a good thing to talk to me and tell me how great life is and that it is all finally coming full circle. And some shit. I didn't actually talk to her which is good because I probably would have lost it. Lets get a few things strait right now. 1) I hate her. 2) Life has not come full circle, it came to a huge screetching stop the day she decided that life was so worthless as to throw away it, including our marriage and our family, and that it was more fulfilling to drag me through hell then to fucking get a job and try to help build a stable family. Did I mention that I hate her??? So now what does she want from me? To call every now and then and pretend that things are okay? That things are better out of the blue? That she never fucked me up the way she did? Granted it was mostly my fault that I let her have the effect on me that she did. I've owned up to that but is that any reason to keep torturing me now? Jesus, how many times does it take of saying, "I don't want you to ever call me again" before she realizes that I really don't want to talk to her again. I want to call and scream in her ear thta I can't stand her that I want nothing more in life than to see her sticking her head in an oven and doing the world the favor that I wound up keeping her from doing it multiple times. It would make me glad to see her obituary at this point in my life. I don't wish she was dead by any stretch, but a close alternative like incommunicado would be perfectly acceptable. I want to not call her back and chew her out, that's why I'm writing here, I want to quietly pretend that I never got that call. I want to not feed the drama that drives her world. I want to let it go, let it go, let it go, and not cause yet another altercation because I don't need that drama in my life right now or ever again, hence the fucking divorce in the first place... But instead, I stay away, I keep distance and leave well enough alone and try to go on with my own life so that I can actually really come around full circle rather than fooling myself into believing that it has come around fool circle like I know she's doing... I want to distance myself as much as possible from the train wrecks I know are to come because of her psychotic personality disorder and I know that by feeding any more energy into it will only bring that energy back to me when the time comes, and it will come and it will be unexpected. And I don't want or need that in my life, now, then, or ever. Did I mention that I hate her? I really hate her. I hate everything about her and everything thaty I ever did with her at this point in my life. Please, anyone that ever reads this, and runs into Gloria, tell her that it's not a good idea to call me, now or ever, that we will never be "friends" and that I wish she would fall off the face of the earth as was her original plan. If she can't stick to that, then why the fuck does she need to be in contact with me?
--------

Wow, 29 feels a

Wow, 29 feels a lot like 28 did towards the later half. I think that I'm growing ever more disdainful of life and aging... its nothing but one anticlimactic moment after the next. My optimism is waning at the moment though so perhaps my view is askew. I'm tired and haven't been sleeping much because of the manic episodes that usually catch me right about midnight and carry me through most of the night writing or working on something or another. I don't know, I feel fulfilled doing the projects and all that but it does get lonely. I don't know how people can do it, one day after another after another in front of the keyboard, or in front of whatever. I miss human contact, I mean intimate human contact, not necessarily sex, considering I still don't know how I feel about all the sexual issues that got dragged through the mud the latter days of the marriage, I'm just not sure if I'm ready to deal with that whole world again... last time I tried it proved disasterous. So here I sit... driving myself into a funk, wondering what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. And no answers in sight. Well, for now at least I know that I'm going to walk and look at an apartment. Perhaps something will come of that. Looks like a tight budget for the next few months while I figure out a way to come up with deposit money. It could be worse I suppose... I think I've bought enough music to last me a few months anyway now... we'll see... I'm off... more later...

(later...)

Great, the apartment hunt in chicago is on... and I'm still undecided as to what I want to do... It's not such a good thing really, these guys could very well be depending on me for some bit of stability in this, and I'm as yet undecided... not a good thing. I need to make up my mind this week, that' my goal...

(much later)

Well, it's official, I've hit the funk stage... it was bound to happen because I've been so manic lately. I guess it's only natural to sink to the bottom after riding so high on top for so long. I always feel stupid when it gets like this though. I'm all guilt ridden and torn because I no longer have the will to live and all I feel like doing is sticking my head in an oven (preferably microwave) and stopping this cycle of high and low and high and low and never finding the happy medium. It's apathy that gets me through it though, I don't care one way or the other and I'm too lazy to really do anything about it. Good or bad, there it is. Who fucking cares... (had to throw that in for good measure, it's a tribute to an old friend and a long story)... I think I need to withdraw for a while, to get my head strait, to get centered again. I love my friends and they try to be so consoling when I get like this, but it's difficult to tell them that there is nothing they can do, actually they do exactly what they need to, especially since now I've gotten over the need to be so dramatic about my moods. It's easier to deal with when the conversation is deliberatly steered into a superficial level. I think that's what I need too because I don't get into anything so deep as analyzing feelings and events and shit like that. It's never a good idea to dig into issues when you're in no position to be rational.
--------

Clouds hang over head

Clouds hang over head on my 29th birthday. It is finally not such a bad thing though. It's almost as if the storm has passed to some degree, and now all that's left is to have a good long rain until the streets are washed a little cleaner, and the air a little fresher. It's turning into a very good spot, Chicago, for me to get some things done. I think that writing again has really helped me turn a corner in life, that now I understand that because I'm not capable of getting all my ideas out in one medium that I can't also do another. Sort of like work between work. Now however, I wish that htere were more hours in the day and that I had energy to do it all in that amount of time... but you can't have everything. Pacing is the key, but pacing oneself is particularly difficult to do when you go on one of those manic all night creation sprees, especially when you go round from one medium to the next to the next so rapidly that you forget what role you're playing for the moment, which is usually when I come back round to playing music because it tends to calm me down after a particularly heady bit of mental masterbation. It's so much more mellow, so much more relaxing... you can fall into a groove and just play... it's almost sweet as ice cream when you been out playin in the sun all day and you come home and open the freezer and you can feel the heat rising off the back of your neck as that burst of cold air brushes across your tingling flesh... and damn its the best tasting ice cream you've ever had right then right there in the cool draft of the freezer space and the heat carried in on your skin from outside. A pleaseure of dualities, complex in taste and texture. Yeah, getting back to music that's what it's all about, it's about reflecting a mood, a situation or environment. A soundscape if you will a sonic landscape that makes you traverse mountians and valleys and all textures in between. Although certain affect calls for some level of dischord. Frankly I think long passages of dischord are not all that bad as long as there is some progression...

(big lot of time spent playing guitar... then writing)

okay, speaking of being extreamly tired and anxious to get shit done... I finished another scene of the screenplay, only a lot left to do... uggggghhhh... "focus" my dad sez... "who's got time to focus" I say, "I'm too busy being an insomniac and working on too many things at once..."

(sore throat and dry mouth cause me to go drink some nyquil)

Okay, after all these drunken ramblings, I'm going to bed... Of course it's looking like daybreak so I wonder if I shouldn't just go ahead and stay up to write a little more... my allergys are acting totally wacked so I took some nyquil so I'll be sleeping soon no doubt... but until then I'm just going to sitt here and ramble of f into nothidnksaingds....
--------

Jesus... I just sat

Jesus... I just sat down to write, and a friend of mine stoped by, same guy who
mistakenly pissed on Gloria's furniture before she ccarted it all off to her
fihs mans apartment... I loved that... He was about to use my doorway tonight
though, but I caught him just in time, and he managed to get routed to the right
place for that sort of thing... it was a good thing. so anyway, strange things
happen at my place when I have people over though... on to the thoughts I was
planning to write about before that...

Of course I'm not sure that I want to write about what I was going to write
about... so perhaps I won't... today was pretty uneventful... slow day at
work... I had this crazy poem come out at work though, it was sort of a tribute
to the girl from back home that completely instilled my love for punk rock
girls... she was so strong. I know I've mentioned Dana in here before... the one
and same. This is a girl who I fell in love with when I was but a young lad...
and know that time and distance have gone by and she's grown past what she was
and I've grown past what I was, and I think of who we are today and how
completely different we are from the people we were. But still... still I love
her, this is a woman who changed and shaped the course of my existance, perhaps
not entirely for the better, but all the same, I'm grateful. She was the
strongest females I ever knew and I think that I've learned how to be friends
with women because of her. I miss very very few things about my past, and I
can't say that I miss those days, but the days that I got to hang with Dana the
most I think I can look back on and really treasure, so that's what was going on
I think that really made me write the poem that I did... it was odd though, and
it needs work... but it's a good one I think, I'm hopeing that it captures that
dark, emotion of the past and infuses some tenderness and compassion into it
all... it needs a good rewrite before I post it though... maybe I'll go off and
do that now that I'm thinking about it again... hmmmm... maybe more later...

Okay, It's in progress, I might need to post this one soon, it's starting to
take real shape... I have to make one quick note though... just so there's no
confussion about it later in life... no I really don't know of any nipple thing,
I just added it for dramatic affect, that and it lended a bit of sexuality to an
otherwise boring and depressing peice... and they say sex sells, so... anyway,
back to editing... -j


Ahhh-Haahhhh, Here
is the finished product... okay, I'm not going to say completely finished
because one day I might want to work on it more, but today, I'm saying... today,
I'm done with it because I'm pretty happy about it... I can't really say that
the poem is about Dana one hundred percent, but I think it is definately
inspired by her on a very deep level. okay... more later... I think I'm going to
crash soon... j-
--------

Wow what a fucked

Wow what a fucked up day... it turned out pretty good all things considered
though. It started off with an unusual e-mail from a friend who sometimes forget
that she's a friend and not something more... It's okay, there just needs to be
a boundary set. Setting boundaries can be a painful thing (for all involved)
though, and for me it was particularly uncomfortable. I'm not sure exactly why
other than I don't think that I was ready for it, I mean I thought something
would come out, because it was building up, but I didn't think it would be
today. So anysway, I respond, I set some boundaries, and I get this very short,
very curt response... I didn't know what to say for a while, I fluctuated
between defensiveness and simply not responding until I got it... one sentence
read a different way, had different meaning, all of the sudden I felt like
I understood her a little more... and it struck me that the right decision was
made because of how completely different our methods of communicating are. It
would cause considerable obstacles. So then I go out with friends, and I'm going
to pick Dahl up (I like to call her Dahl, she doesn't let anyone else do it and
I feel special that I get to, even though she's told me several times that it
drives her nuts... :-) Hell, she'd tell me to stop if she hated it, right? So
anyway.... we're out with friends and there's this girl there that I've seen
around and I've always thought was attractive, and I'm like, I think I'm going
to ask her out if the chance comes up... so then we're all sitting around
drinking, and we go listen to the band a bit and we're sitting kind of close and
I'm goin' "Oh yeah... I'm diggin' this girl" And my leg is touching her leg and
she not movin and I'm not movin and all the sudden I'm like, wow... there's some
chemistry here... I can feel it... That'll all change once she gets to know me,
but right now, there's a little sparklin's goin' on, just every so barely, it's
subtle, yeah, but it's all good, you know. So then, we're leaving and we all
wind up going back to this girls place and I'm completely blown away by her
place, And her taste in art, in music, in video, in everything is so dead on
mine that it's almost really fucking scarey... remember, I've really only met
this person and I'm completely blown away because we could have almost been long
lost fraternal twins... anyway, she's got so much energy it's scarey, but she's
really attractive and a blast to be around, so I did it... I broke my funk and
asked her if she wanted to go do something sometime... yeah, my lack of suavness
at that moment sort of impressed me too... but then I had been drinking and had
just come off a really intense endorphin rush from laughing at Joe read the
library story off his cell phone... oh good, that one years from now is not
going to make any sense except to those people that were there, or know Joe for
doing that, but to everyone else it will look like the most bizarre acid enduced
sentence out of anything I ever write... It's good because I don't think I can
share the "marhmellow dreams from my penis" story or the "orchestra in my mouth
on the radio" story both of which might just be a little incriminating... and
you people who were involved, and you all know who you are... yeah... nuff
sed... So anyway... Holly shit, and both of those stories took place on the same
night too! HA! damn... we were crazy back then... sheeeeeeeite... okay so
anyway, now the moral of the story... which really isn't a moral... is that I've
got to polish up my act again before I see her... hopefully I can say something
really smooth without her or me laughing :-)
--------

Seems that it's becoming

Seems that it's becoming a habit. 2:30am is about the time every night that I'm
starting to realize I'm not going to be going to sleep, regardless how tired I
am. Tonight was a crazy ballet of lust and emotional turmoil. I'm hung up over
another person that I can't have. It's becoming habit, perhaps because of the
inherent safety involved. Regardless, I had a profound realization. I have a
broken heart. I never really realized what thet meant to its fullest before.
I've always had relationships and wound up having some regret or another, but
now I know what it means to have a broken heart. And it never becomes more
poigniant than at that point where you start to think it might be possible to be
happy again with someone else, and start to think about putting your fingers
through their hair, or look them in the eye, or laugh at their jokes. That's
when the pain is most consuming. It's always late when you let your mind run
away with itself and fantasize about what it might be like to be happy with
another person, to finally let your guard down and let them in and consume
yourself with the love of another person yet again... to seek to find that soul
mate. And then it hits you that you are a fundamentally broken person, that the
ironic joke is on you, it's not a possibility. So tonight, I have this going on,
I've been dumbfounded by a girl. Someone that I find truly incredible on more
levels that I know how to speak of. I could see being with this girl and doing
amazing things. I could make films of her, I could take over the world and she'd
be queen enough to stand at the top of that mountain with me. How do I know
this, because every fiber of her being says it. And then on the other side of me
is this wounded sucking hole of a heart, exposed to the point that it is glaring
to the rest of the world. It's amazing to me that at this point in time these
two people would represent such concrete ideas. On the one hand, the trecherous
path of starting life a new, and on the other the sucking wound of the past. It
seems as if there is a crossroads that I've come to in my life. Oddly enough,
this early in the morning, all I want to do is sit down and cry. Right there in
the middle of the road, right where everyone and everything can see me, run over
me, pick at the peices and recycle them into the next incarnation as dirt or
dust or blood. I want nothing to do with this symbology, or this fatalistic
cosmic irony. Even the future is tied with the past. It makes me want to jump
out of this time line and into another, if only that were as easy as they make
it look. So to Sara I play the psychologist, the compassionate ear, the kick in
the ass voice of motivation and self determination, the "Let's get out of this
funk and move on with life" well to do person with a future motivator... and to
Tracy I play the fool. Gloria of the past just recently let go of, it's like
jumping from vine to vine in Pitfall with the crocs just under your feet, and if
you miss that leap by the slightest slip in timing or coordination, then you
fall... fall to the waters below and drowned as you're ripped to peices by the
gapping maw of self destructon, but... if by that slim miricle of faith and
determination it's possible to grab that next rope... that next slim glimmer of
hope to carry you across to the other side safely... but then, that's a lot of
responsibility to place on one little peice of rope... perhaps I should just let
go and voluntarily give myself to the water... or at least stop being so
concerned about catching the next one... leave it to fate as it were... seems
like that's all I can really do anyway...
--------

Okay, I have a

Okay, I have a confession to make. It's about this latest communication with
Gloria, the old one. I got a call on the answering machine that she wanted to
get back her futon and couch if at all possible. It is in fact possible. But the
whole proposition was only interesting to me as long as she took all the crap
out that she left, the futon, the couch, etc. Now that we've spoken, it doesn't
look like that's the case. So I'm not really interested in having her come
anywhere near to me, or my apartment. I admit, it was completely self serving.
But now I feel the need to come clean. I suppose that I can tell her that if I'm
going to be disposing of the stuff anyway that there is really no need for her
to come get it. The futon is fucked up anyway and if I didn't have another one,
I would have bought another one shearly due to the problems with that one. Oh,
granted, it makes a nice base futon where you don't actually have to sleep on
it, it's got a seam that's completely busting open and has been urinated on
several times by drunken sots who've managed somehow to crawl to it and pass out.
So it's probably not the best thing for Isabelle to sleep on if in fact that is
really what she'd intented to do with it. God only knows considering the sketchy
nature of our last conversation. You'd think that someone who you've been
through so much with could finally one day own up and be direct with you, but
I'm learning to think better of that notion whereas the old Gloria is concerned.
But she is "getting better" according to herself. Regardless. I think that I
need to communicate the futility of this property retrival. It only seems right
at this point. I'll have to call in the morning (and leave a message). I have to
say though, for the brief period that I thought the futon was actually for
Gloria, I would have let her sleep on it knowing what I know about it. Of course
that wouldn't be the first time my friends have in some scatological nature made
contact with Gloria. I won't get into that one though, she might still have some
of that stuff and frankly it's probably just better left unsaid at this point.
Of course to this day we still laugh about it though :-) Since however Isabelle
could in reality be sleeping on a urinated futon matress, which might not
actually bug some people, myself included as long as there is a generous supply
of bleach, fabreeze, and several plastic barriers between that futon matress and
the actual futon matress upon which I sleep... something in the parental side of
myself kicks in and says that for Isabelle that is not a boundary that I feel
comfortable crossing. I'm sure Gloria will feel the same once the situation is
explained. I suppose that I'll just have to be up front and explain the
complexity of my desire to "help" which is a courtesy that I can't expect will
ever be returned on her part. All the better, that way I don't have to see her
around my birthday which means I might actually have a happy one this year.

Anyway, off to reading and then sleep... it's late (early)... 2:52am by my clock...

more later...

j-
--------

Okay, so the universe

Okay, so the universe is this big ironic ball of twisted fate and humor. It's
fucking crazy, I go to a party last night and all night I'm having a pretty good
time, I'm pretty constantly wasted from the time I walked in, and stay that way
until late in the morning, all the time chatting, having a grand ol' time.
There's a great lack of females in the Chicago area, they are all taken, not a
huge problem considering that I'm not really into looking for anything right
now, but I meet this girl all the same. She's absolutely the coolest person I'v
e met in a long time up here. *Really* attractive, smart, funny... and a
personality that seems to just fit on some level. Even me, mister shy and
withdrawn, I am moved to tell her that she's really cool and I want to get to
know her better. She's got a boyfriend, that's fine, I don't want to fuck her or
anything, I just want to get to know her better. The sick ironic twist of fate?
She just happens to be a stripper named Tracy. I wanted to laugh when I found
out. Okay, part of me wanted to cry as well, but ultimately what are you going
to do but laugh at the sort of big mocking joke the universe is making of you at
that point in your life. It's like this wicked test, I've made this big break
through in my issues with Gloria the first... and then the whole situation is
thrown in my face again. It's set up so perfectly you have to laugh. So what
happens from here? Who knows. I know that if I get a chance to see her again I'm
going to take it... how sick is that? The good thing is that there are some huge
fundamental differences between Tracy and Gloria, mostly that Tracy is *really*
attractive, and seems to have a personality that borders on being almost as dark
as mine. Granted I'm basing all of that on attitude that I picked up, but she
was totally cool... anyway, whatever happens happens... I'm laughing too hard at
the cosmic joke of my life to take anything too seriously...

more later...


[later]

Ahhh, nice relaxing mothers day after such a debaucherous night last night. I'm
glad that I didn't really have to do much today. Kelly and Jim have been hanging
out all day (well, not all day for Jim, but he's been here a while now) I have
to say, it kind of feels weird. Good, but weird. I like having the company. I'm
not used to it though. I was so busy being lonely that I didn't notice how much
I really enjoy being alone here. It's cool though because if there is going to
be anyone just hanging out and chilling here, I'm glad it's these guys. It's
easy to be distracted though and not work when there are people here to distract
me, but all the same, they are so creative that I feel like getting things done.
It's something that I can learn to deal with I have no doubt. It's getting late,
I'm going to go read and maybe write a little before bed... I have to come up
with the "next" idea. Working on getting this body of work togeter is more
difficult than I want it to be, but of course all worthy endeavers usually are...

j-
--------

So I've been thinking

So I've been thinking a lot lately. It's been bothering me because now that I've
stumbled across this bit of speculative theory there seems to be so much in the
history of my marriage that falls in line with it. And the real kicker is that
it's a theory that reaches beyond me and my relationship with her, but to a
level of sociology beyond my llittle microcosmic world. Not that any of that
matters now, it's more like that it's just sort of mind blowing that
it could be an actual possibility. I have to tread lightly because there are
inherant dangers in what I'm about to disclose. On one hand, it could serve as a
justification for all of Gloria's fucked up behavior, and on the other hand it
could lead me down a rather nasty path of blame and bitterness. I don't need to
persue that. Then my own niavity starts to kill me because it just seems that I
was so completely taken in... So anyway the story goes like this...

Years ago Gloria warned me. She told me flat out that she was a stripper and
that stripping warps your mind, that it makes you start to look at
men as nothing more than dicks with a wallet. She told me that she had to fight
hard to get out of that line of thinking, and I think that she did. However, I
think that she never really got out of that line of thinking. And to take it a
step farther, I think that perhaps she developed that attitude completely
seperate of stripping, although perhaps in a less defined state. But once that
meme of "men are dicks with wallets" entered her psyche, she couldn't ever get
rid of it completely. The reason is this, it became ingrained not just through
re-enforcment from making money at the strip clubs, but through the nature of
her relationships with men from some arbitrary point long before that,
and became part of the nature of her relationships in general. Now, I think that
the further she gets away from that, and the more cogniscient she is of it, the
more likely she will be able to have a "normal" relationship in the future. But
as for me, I was definately not the one that was going to be "that person," that
man with whom she was able to view as a person rather than the "dick with a
wallet" object. For her I was the guy that came up at the point that she really
wanted to overcome that view of herself, which implies good intention (of course
we all know what the pathway to hell is paved with, right?). So I was the one
that was going to catch all the shit from struggling through those issues. This
explains the lack of work on her part, the willingness to let all other things
suffer at the hands of processing her own inner deamons. Beyond that I think, in
my own ignorance of my role, I played the enabler that let her do those self
destructive things which prevented her from hitting rock bottom and takeing care
of herself and her daughter. I was just providing a lifeline, I was a "dick with
a wallet."

I feel tremendously used needless to say. I was used, and verbally and mentally
abused (not that I was perfect). And I went along with it because I was just
grateful to have someone that felt something about me. Fortunately now I can
say, "Fuck that." I would rather be alone than be anyone's "Dick with a wallet"
ever again. Until she bottomed out she was just *not* going to get it. Now I'm
not saying I have it all worked out, that's simply not the case, but I am
saying that when considering history and actions from this theoretical
perspective, several things fit nicely with the picture of Gloria that was
constantly emotionally crutching on me, and dependant on me (she hated the idea
of being dependant, yet she constantly undermined her own words with her
actions). Hell the strongest I ever saw her was the times that she wanted to
walk away from me. I should have fucking let her, I shouldn't have tried nearly
as hard as I did. I couldn't see it though, I couldn't see that I was every bit
as wrapped up in her issues as she was, I was totally blind to it either through
naivity or just shear ignorance (probably a combination of the two). It was like
watching an avelanche though, you're seeing it and your floating through it and
all the while you're getting swallowed alive and beaten to death, but you're
powerless to get away from it.

And the feeling of being a "Dick with a wallet" that's the worst, it makes me
angry, it hurts, which is why bitterness is such a dangerous pitfall here. And
I'm not going to pretend that I'm not bitter on some levels, but that sort of
thinking is poison, it could destroy all my future relationships as well, so I
choose another path. More to the point, I feel a lot of pity for Gloria. I feel
really, really sorry for her. I mean that in a way that is not condecending
though, we were really good friends for a long time, and it's like discovering
your friend has HIV or leukemia, you're filled with dismay over the affliction
but more you just have a lot of compassion for your friend. I feel sorry for
someone that has such a base, simple view of the world around them as to break
up half of the population of the earth and say, "You are no more than *this*",
in essence limiting your interactions with half the globe to a preset arbitrary
point. I feel bad because part of me wants to shout and scream, "I'm so much
bigger that this box you put me in," but at the same time I know that 1) I
allowed myself to be put in that box, and 2) she would be oblivious to my
shouting anyway. That was so much the frustration of living with her was
that "shouting" was "shouting" no matter what the content of the argument
happened to be. It didn't really matter if the words were calm and mannerly or
not, it mattered that it was too difficult to hear, therefore making it
"shouting." So I feel sorry for her. I hope that if I managed to do anything,
then maybe I served as a positive step in the right direction for lifting those
self imposed limitations. God knows Gloria did some of that for me as well.
But for her sake, I hope that she can learn to be happy in the context that
she's chosen to drive her own life.

As for me, I think now that I know what it looks and feels like to be a "dick
with a wallet" I'll be ready to recognize it before it suffocates me again.

j-
--------

Today I was up

Today I was up early (after going to bed very late, again) but it was sort of
funny considering.... My phone rang early, it was a prank call... someone in a
very rushed and very bosnian sounding voice saying something that sounded like
"We want to know who you fuck" which was really odd... It made me laugh to think
of who and why they would call so early in the morning to ask this most absurd
question. I started to think, what if I had actually answered the phone, what if
I actually had been confronted with this question personally... considering I
only know one bosnian in town and the voice sounded a lot like her, it makes me
wonder why she wouldn't have just asked me personally anyway rather than going
through the gesture of this completely absurd prank which in and of itself seems
so infantile.... but I digress. So if I were actually having a conversation with
someone and this question were to come up, first I would have to ask for some
sort of clarification. I'm not really sure what information they are asking for.
A prank call is a very confrontational forum, so there are all sorts of
connotations availible, like maybe they think I'm gay, maybe they think there's
not an ounce of intimacy in me and that "fucking" is all I'm capable of, maybe
they think that I'm generally attracted to a certain type or genre of person and
they are asking for clarity surrounding that... there are all sorts of ways to
take this. So I would have to ask what specifically they meant by their
question. Then I would have to answer I suppose. It's kind of pathetic but I
haven't been fucking anyone. No, I'm not gay. And Yes, I'm attracted to punk
rock chicks with tatoos and peircings, with some sense of style and good taste
in music. There's been some time in the past when I wasn't quite sure what I was
after, and thought that as long as there was mutual interest things could work
out on an intrapersonal level. Oddly enough, like so many before me, I realized
the fallicy of this logic. It really got me thinking about what my boundaries
really are, and where they should be. It's funny that a prank call could
actually spark so much thought, but since a lot of this processing was going on
before the prank call, it only seems natural that it would come out in this
fashion. Still, I think that I recognized the voice, which makes it even
funnier. If I wanted to, I could pursue it and track down whoever it was that
called, it would be a total pain in the ass though (although an interesting
challange) and I'm trying to focus my efforts elsewhere now. But if it was
anyone I know, they are only proving that their problems are way bigger than
mine, and that breaking off ties was the right move on my part. The politic of
life is funny that way...

more later...
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Today is not a

Today is not a good day. It really hasn't even been a good weekend. I don't
know, I guess I don't really feel like living. It's not a suicide thing, it's an
existance thing. What is my purpose, what am I doing, where is my life headed...
I just don't really care anymore. If I could effortlessly fall off the face of
the earth and not have to deal with people or places or things or thoughts or
memories anymore I'd do it in a heartbeat. But as we all know, life is not that
simple. It seems like sometime sooner or later it would get easier though. I
keep having these reminders pop up, of Isabelle, of Gloria. I don't know, I keep
wanting to call Gloria too, I know what sort of reaction that would bring... not
just from her but from everyone I know. I don't want to think about what I would
actually say. It's just that we were such good friends when we were amiable to
eachother. I miss that. I think that is the part that really makes me lonely. I
don't think I'll ever meet someone with that kernel of compatibility. Ahhhh....
what am I talking about. It's all in the past. and I dwell too much on it. I
wish there were some easy way to get past it though I wish there were some way
to make myself forget about it all and move on. Unfortunately these things tend
to run their own course. I never imagined the heartache would go on for a year
though. I never imagined it would be this difficult.

more later... I'm going to a play... perhaps that will snap me out of this mood..

[much later]

I never really talk about Jim here, jim is a really incredible guy, I want to
document this because I think that he's one of the all around best people I've
ever met. There doesn't seem to be any pretense, there is no disguise, there is
just Jim and he's a talented hard working creative person with a knowledge of
the theatre that amazes me. Granted he doesn't know it all, but he's tenacious
enough to learn the rest, and in the mean time I get to watch him in action and
it teaches me more than I thought possible. Jim is one of those people that I
respect to the point of wanting to be like in some small way (don't get me
wrong, he's a freak like the rest of us too, so there are a few ways that I'm
glad I'mnot like him... remind me to tell the urination story about Jim
sometime, it's the funniest thing that ever happened to me before or since...
he's embarrassed about it though, hell I would be too, but he's got nothing to
worry about, it was serendipity.) So anyway, back to Jim, he's taking on some
pretty big projects and he's kind enough to let me watch as it unfolds, this is
great because I want to do 2 things. 1- Understand process, the creative process
in specific, how does one create a body of work and go from beginning to end
with it... this is something that Danny is helping me understand as well with
regards to music, but this is on a different level. and 2- Understand live
theater. I always wanted to do film scoring and things of that nature, although
I'm far to much of a snob to score things like documentarys about cattle drives
and things, I still think it's a skill that I want to pick up. But now that I'm
getting involved with live theater it seems like it would be so much more
exciting to score live theater, or at least do the music for it. The timing can
be less strict than that with a film but it still has to be well coordinated,
which is the real challange. Regardless, I think that there is a lot to learn in
that field and the people and environment are thrilling. If I can head in that
direction for a bit, it will be amazing. Watching that play earlier today gave
me a thrill that I needed desperately. I really needed to get out and do
something. Jim has been there to recue me from these moods too much lately I
feel sorry for him dragging my ass around and constantly being the person to
hang with me and listen to my shit. He's infinately patient though which is
amazing, it's nice to have men like that in my life. I never really had men in
my life in general growing up so it's kind of a new thing to deal with other men
on this level. I always *always* related better to women, probably had to do
with growning up in such an estrogen laden household. Regardless, I'm glad to
have the opportunities that this affords me, and it's great because after doing
something like seeing a play or going to rehersal, or reading a script, it
lights a fire under my ass to do. To put spirit to flesh as it were and create
something. I am coming into my own now as an artist and it's a great feeling.
Even if I am religated to being nothing more than a minor artist in this
lifetime, I will rest comfortabley knowing that I evolved and created some
really quality stuff... now if I can just keep my depression at bay long enough
to live through making the art.... ;-) One day at a time... perhaps if I create
more, I'll feel more satisfied and be an all around happier person. I was trying
to explain that to Catherine today, Rilke called it the death stone, that thing
that we carry around that feels daily like it must be excised... that is the
spirit of creation and rebirth and so many things though, that death stone... it
must be drawn out, cut out, whatever, or else it will kill us. Unfortunately no
matter how much of it we get, there is always more... the curse of being a
creator I suppose. Soon I should have new music to post, I've been recording a
lot since my first little adventure with Deck 2... it's evolving quite nicely as
I learn more about it too... hopefully anyone that listens will find it as
interesting as I do, probably not, but what the hell... more later... reading
and sleep.
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