Someone found my diary by typing in �who has the biggest cock�. Well, they�ve come to the right place.

A long weekend that never seemed to end, with about 50% good and 50% tedium. Friday night had a brief drive with Jeremy, Saturday I got to meet Crystal. We gave her a brief tour of the North Shore of Massachusetts, and then had drinks at the bar last night. Upon arriving home ill from the plethora of carbohydrated food, beer and cigarettes I consumed throughout the day, I realized I don�t like the beer. Perhaps because I was completely full upon arriving at the bar, or maybe I just wasn�t in the mood, and was generally confused sitting amongst the 10 or so of us that were there. Today I finally sold all of my Guns and Roses cd�s I owned. Well, two. I saw a video of them and realized they actually really suck. I have Aerosmith CD�s, why do I need to own Guns and Roses CD�s? Why does anyone need to own them. Even in irony that band sucks.

Longing for a long drive on a long endless highway to nofuckingwhere yet again. I want the sun to heat me soon so I can take off in the car for a couple of weeks without anyone knowing where I am. Going places unlike Cheers, where nobody knows my name. I want it to happen now. I need something else. Whatever the fuck it is I�m doing now, it�s absofuckinglotuely nothing and it isn�t entertaining me. The only person I have been counting on now is me. Around here, nobody gives a shit. They have their pussies they can fill from night to night, or their cocks they can suck from night to night, so they obviously don�t need my company. Regardless, it doesn�t matter. This cycle goes on over and over. Some sort of sick joke that they played on me at birth. This will be your fate. You will be a worthless loser who has no direction, is unhealthy, has tons of addictions, can�t save money, gambles, and has no energy to do anything ever. This will be your fate, good luck! Nobody knows of off track betting and sketchy Italian men I know. Nobody knows of my real life thoughts of murder. Real life. Not, attention craved sentences in my online diary. The drive by the houses and unlit apartments I look into with the eyes of evil. I don�t tell anyone this because it�s true. I don�t tell anyone about it because it�s not true either. Every girl I�ve ever dated has left me because they can�t read me. They fuck my friends, they fuck their friends. This is how they figure out they can�t read me anymore. Why would anyone want to be read? I like having ballet dancers surrounding me at all times. I like having people leaning back much too far in their chairs catching themselves. I am so fucking addicted to just thinking about how I will die. I lull myself to sleep picturing myself in a hospital bed with the fucks that never call anymore coming by for brief visits. Last nights dream had me in some expensive house. A maze of hallways, doorways, children. Well, teenagers. I was a guest of someone there. Upper-class folks I wouldn�t be caught dead with. My friend and his girlfriend were there. At one point I kissed her and she felt like a child. Looked like a young scrawny person. She was there at the bar last night too. I don�t fuck my friends girlfriends. I don�t even think of fucking my friends girlfriends. Even in awakened states, I don�t think of this rule I never break. I just think of the ones I�ve been with, or the ones I�d like to be with. Not many I want to be with. Too many I have been with at this age. In the year 2002, I was a slut. I want to get in the car and just get the fuck out of here and fuck myself in the hotel room with a shitty bottle of red wine that I don�t even open and a bunch of books I�m not going to read because Pamela Anderson beckons me on the television instead, and lulls me to sleep with her tight orange bathing suit. I have no desire to ever leave this fucking house again. I know I will win that big money one of these days. There�s a horse out there with my name on it. I will finally pay my taxes from 1999, 2000, and 2001. I will finally get out of here and never return. I will throw the phone in the Pacific ocean, and I will star a new. My new license picture will be taken under a palm tree with me holding a margarita. I hate the taste of margaritas. So much, that I need to make sure to get out of the party I was invited to. I don�t want to be a liar anymore. FUCK MY LYING SELF. I don�t want to sit around a group of people and pretend I�m enjoying a beer, or a gin and tonic, when I am clearly not. How I sometimes wish I could get too drunk to drive. The bar is too close to my house for me to do any sort of damage. There is no labrynthian drive home. Take a right, a left, another left, follow the road for a few miles, take a u-turn, and then your first right, my house is the second driveway on your left. Go slow, or you will miss it. When they watch me from the woods as I come in to my house I don�t feel as frightened as I do in the summer. The summer time brings out the crazy people and they come to see me and they want to do something horrible to me. They are the ones who have created this life. They are watching with video cameras and tape recorders. This week, I will not buy drugs. Say it again. This week, I will not buy drugs. Fuck drugs. Fuck cigarettes. Fuck pornography. Fuck horses. Fuck 20 dollar bills. Sleep depravation will help me through the week. I�ve finally figured out that nothing is helping really. Quitting smoking pot has made me irritable, and more tired than before. Quitting smoking for 12 hours does nothing to me. Drinking less coffee is making it hard to make it past 2pm at work. What is the next step? �Drink more water Christian�. I tell myself this. Drink green tea. Read more books. Listen to more �arty� music, and avoid talking to people who don�t understand you. Everyone, that is. They can laugh at my jokes and enjoy the same Sonic Youth records I enjoy, but they can�t penetrate. I am now a fat slob who is bigger than I have ever been. I ate dinner 3 times tonight. I�ve smoked over a dozen cigarettes in the past 3 hours, and drank 20 ounces of coffee. I have no desire to go to work tomorrow. This is a journal. Keep a journal online so people can see what you are like. Here�s what I am made of, whether I like it or not. I want my cake, and eat it too. I want everything. I want everything to go my way. If it doesn�t go my way, I don�t want it to go okay for anyone else. I want something from everyone. I want attention. I am a sucker for attention. I�m a fucking asshole for attention. I am a fucking child looking for attention at all times. This is me in a nutshell. A baby with no friends, because he can�t handle social behavior like everyone else. He can�t be in a crowd obviously! Who�s going to pay attention to him when he�s in with all these other good folks? He isn�t standing out like he feels like he damn well should. Oh well, I feel like an idiot yet again. Hence the cycle. There�s a couple things that will stop this. I have a date with the nurse. I have a date and couldn�t be late. My watch told me, wait I don�t have a watch. I lie way too much now. Stop lying now. So I come home to a phone book, and an empty piece of paper. I come home and I�m back at square one. You start at the bottom and work your way up. Nothing bad I said can ever be taken back now, even if it feels good to yell every once and a while. Do I get a vacation from these things. When do I get to close the curtains, draw the drapes. When am I free from the submarine submerged in bullshit. Stacked up like pancakes. Here�s this story, here�s this situation, here�s a little drama over here, here�s a mental list of things you should do, here�s mud in your eye pal. Thanks, especially for the way I get touched now. It�s all ten miles away. Don�t touch the freak. The leper has just returned from the island, don�t touch him, you�ll catch his bullshit. It wipes off, and it wipes on like a paper towel. The quicker picker upper. So I remembered vividly the morning. Driving up the route with the sun barely up yet. The sun waiting for me to go into my house before coming home. Slept like a baby that night. Slept for all of four hours and went right out into the sun. Walked in downtown Salem and sat on a bench waiting for something. A cab? A superhero. A girl with feathers in her hair and bell bottoms? Who knows what the fuck it was. Top of the morning to ya! It will remain that clear for the rest of my life. It will remain right there, see it, over there? Right over there with my other fond memories of days gone by. It�s over there with the trip to Southern Maine, the rides to Gloucester, the late nights painting and listening to Galaxie 500, the early morning drills, all of those are over there now. The morning of sunlight and realized dreams�only to be just that, a memory a few days later. Well, things move along. Even if I don�t let them. Even if I let them hang in the mud for as long as possible. They hang there and don�t balance anything out. They just sit there staring at me forcing me to be in these moods of complete hysteria. They make me feel like I really want to know what he thinks of the weather. Yeah, I really do care about that story about the �grocery store that one time dude�. Yeah, I�m out to rate your stories, and scripts. I�ll give the thumbs up when I don�t like it, and I�ll give the thumbs down if I don�t like it. Don�t ask me why I can�t tell you the truth. I swear I can�t hide everything, it all eventually will get pulled out of me by secret agents disguised as nurses and astrologers. It eventually comes out if I have to sit in that room with that bright light shining in my face. No shit, I�m only playing. Just shine that shit in my face for a little more, homey ain�t ready to spill the beans yet. I always plan on getting up, and getting on down but I can�t do it once I�m in. I�ll not worry about others. I�ll deal with my own issues in the mirror. I want to change I want to change I want to change I want to change I want to change I want to change I want to change I want to change I want to change. I�ll chant that over and over. I won�t let myself get out of control. I won�t punch walls in my head. I won�t take out my own insecurities and frustration on anyone but myself. It feels good to keep things inside and let them fizzle out in there you know. It all feels so good. It feels like the iced cold water I drink all day and night. It feels like the large ocean in front of me. It feels so good to be alive, and be in the presence of love and respect. What am I talking about with all of this? I�m a mean boy. I�m a mean guy. I have no right. I�m going to erase this all right now I don�t feel like that I swear. It was all made up. I never have any disrespect for anyone. I know you can�t read this all. I know nobody can feel like I feel forever. I won�t that�s for sure. There�s no way. I like this removed feeling from everyone. It goes all night. It goes all day. I fall behind. They move ahead. Well, they don't move. I have e-mails I haven't answered and I feel guilty. I swear I'm going to write! My head is over there right now though. See it. I have been having thoughts all weekend. The past few days. What the fuck do I think I'm doing? I've had doubts in the past. I know what I do. I know what I am. Working is double right now. My head is in overdrive right now. Nothing is correct. Nothing is ever done correct for some reason. I felt like a million dollars a month ago, I felt like shit a week ago. I felt like a million bucks two days ago, I feel like shit today. I feel like this is the only way to get things across. Why waste my head? Why act in a movie that I never like watching anyway. I act. I act so fucking much. Hey look at me. I really don't like it. I don't like the lifestyle. I don't like the conversations of any of them. Ever. I act. I'm the best supporting actor. This is really me and how I am I swear. Nobody gets to know the real me, fuck that. I'm closing up shop after this weekend. I�m leaving the planet of this. I will be here, but only for a couple of hours a day. Who needs to listen to this? My phone number has been posted in here before. That�s the only way I�m going to ever be honest again. This isn�t me.

-out

before & after