|2003-02-03 || pale women with dream catchers, news at 11
Soundtrack � Lee Perry and the Upsetters
I feel like a useless waste of space right now. I am lazy, and I don�t want to do anything but�just that, I don�t want to do anything.
I shall smash the computer
I shall smash the television set
I will fly an airplane into a football stadium
Today, somehow in and out of my head for some reason were times from way before
Falling in love with girls who I had no business falling in love with
If I could go back in time I would surely tell myself �run away, quick�, or �choose a different path�
As it stands now I am filled with nothing whatsoever
Don�t fucking make promises to me
Once the television is shut off, I feel better
I cannot write if I am sober
I can�t write
I can�t write anything, because I feel like they are watching me
There are people out there listening, and reading
I write a story, and I have to wonder who would want to read it
Do not do drugs at work
Do not do drugs at work
At this point, 33 years in
I have to tie string around my finger
I have so many things I forget from day to day
Right now they are all after me
The eyes I have in the back of my head, they stare back at them
They stare at them and say �leave, please�
So the other day I took a ride through my old town I grew up in, I live right next to it now. I drove by my old house I was a teenager in, and I drove by ex-friends houses. I drove by old hangout spots, and I did not see anyone from my past. I drove by the home of this girl I graduated with. Dina Caine I think her name was. She annoyed me. She was friends with a girl I went out with for much of high school, and was one of those drama team girls, and would wear those scarves with the sparkly shit in them, and go to the Rocky Horror Picture Show, and sometimes wore a top hat, and most likely strove to be Liza Minelli or someone like that. She took me to my first Grateful Dead show with some others. I remember she said �now, when they stop, leave and meet me at my minivan, before the encore� I of course stayed for the whole thing, knowing she wouldn�t leave. She of course yelled at me when I returned to the minivan. I went to my first Dead show in a mini van with that fucking girl. Coincidentally, years later, I went to my last Dead show with an odd group of people. One rich spoiled kid I knew somehow, a girl I was good friends with, and another old friend who now talks to plants and that kind of thing. I remember thinking what an odd quartet we made. I fell asleep driving home a few times, and saw figures by the side of the road one only sees when sleep deprivation sets in and you realize you have hundreds and hundreds of miles to go. One of the last times I saw Dina, I went to her house with a friend and she wanted to play charades, but some weird fucking drama student/Rocky Horror Picture Show loving way, I don�t remember, but I remember the following items in her bedroom: a marcel marceau poster, a dream catcher, scarves, that top hat, a lot of white furniture, ballet slippers, and a Fleetwood Mac record that didn�t have Peter Green playing on it. This was my cue to never return to her house. Upon driving by it the other day, I thought to myself, who were some of these fucking people I hung out with? Upon thinking about it for a little while, I realized I hung out with these types of people on more than one occasion! I�ve often hung out with groups of people who love Stevie Nicks and dream catchers and going to state college plays, and that kind of thing. I have no idea how this happens, but I am going to stop now.
I should make an application for people to hang out with me. How self-indulgent would that be?
I would enjoy being on the roof with Diane Keaton in Annie Hall when her and Alvy first meet and he comes up for a drink.
I get self-conscious playing the lottery where Indian folks work at the store down the street, I assume they are thinking �these Americans are so fucking dumb�. Which is correct in that regard anyway. There are some men and women paying tons of money in there a day though. I buy cigarettes and a scratch ticket, and if I win, I end up getting another, and another until finally accepting the loss of a few bucks.
There is no need for me to be up this late AGAIN.
Still trying to spread the word of the band around, so people should come by and say hi. Maybe we�ll even send you a free cd of some of our shit. Shit.
I could never work in advertising, or promotions and marketing.