i want to be like mae west. she's so glamorous, so fierce. she is every gay boy's wet dream.

i want to be unattached from everything.

i wonder what he kisses like. aagghhh. i hate my stupid brain. how it's connected to my stupid vagina. why wasn't i born a man, or lesbian. i wouldn't have so many problems.

i'm absolutely useless. i forget everything. i'm so useless it's painful to type this shit out. roaaarrr.

i can't even send anything out correctly. i wasted fucking twenty five fucking dollars for nothing, because i left out documents. fuck. nobody else is this idiotic. why can't i follow instructions.

easy, peasy instructions. just read the list and do what it says. why is that so hard.

and i call myself smart. i deign to sign forms. fuck that shit. i'm an idiot. grade f. idiot. how pathetic.

i don't deserve to be with anyone. least with emmanuel. fuck all the rest.

fuck this shit. fuck me. gah.

i was turning off the lights in the living room, and i thought to myself, innocuously, "is missy asleep?"

of course she is.

and that's when it really fucking hit me. this really fucking sucks. i held her beautiful head in my hands, and she was already gone. it was the first time i had held someone who had passed. she was my old lady, my golden girl. i'm never gonna see that same silly face again. i'll no longer have a reason to buy tennis balls because she never returns them to me.

i miss my dog. fuck the chihuahua. i want my old lady back.

have got a new room et new floors et al. feel like rotten egg inside new pristine shell.

I think i'm getting distracted by all kinds of peripheral shit, and I hate it. I want to throw out all my clothes, chop off all my hair. :[

guilt guilt guilt? probably.

My cat does not like fancy schmancy cat toys. No brightly colored french ticklers for her. Though I'd like to buy her fancy toys. My animals are simple things, they like balls of aluminum foil, soup bones from the actual soup, not this packaged chitterlings and gravy gourmet shit. well, the cat does, but like me she is a professed hypocrite.

My mum brought home supply of large cardboard boxes. I have set up one and placed it on the ground. My cat has come over, staring at the box as if it held the answer. She meows at me, twitches her tail. What's in here, she seems to ask. She jumps in, jumps out. paws at something invisible inside. She will get bored, leave, then return.

If I could only get that excited about the mundane again, or find that the mundane is not mundane but all that we really need in life.

Lo, I stand again on that dreadful precipice.

A million things to do, love. Finish that visa app., I've to move out of this room. Finally getting that wood flooring I dreamed of, but to what purpose? I shall look at that lovely shade of oak for two months and then the dreary modernist interior design of city university dorms for 5 months.

Hotel rooms, airbus cabins, taxi cabs, sticky bus vinyl floors, cement, tile, linoleum, department stores, sweet Hong Kong grass, mysterious Chinese sand. Lo! I stand again on that dreadful precipice, where shall I go.

In an effort to blow steam.

I have deduced that Alex, while a nice guy, has some anger issues, and does not like people.

This is probably why he dresses the way he does, and is an angry little white boy.

Man, when men are angry, they are really vicious. They needs to chill out.

Dilemma. Hardfest is sold out EVERYWHAR. Why.

And mother even let me go. SHE EVEN LET ME GO HOLY HELL.

It is only after I find tickets that I will find someone to cover for me at work. This is so I will not lose any money or sleep.

Haaaaa. Life works itself into funny situations.

I am without prose today.

Prof. Simoni made me feel like an idiot.

All my professors do.

Why am I doing so poorly? Gambatte!

It's like wandering through a desert and coming back upon the same, gnarled skeleton half-buried in the sand. Over and over. I keep crying but it is like pouring tears on a rock, useless, nul.


My coughs taste like blood.

Sigh.

I've a hollow in my heart, and the wind whistles through, and I am cold.

So life is equal parts exciting and happy and also terrifyingly sad.


I am on the verge of breaking up with Emmanuel.

I don't want to stay with him if he is going to be the same man.

I want to stay with him if he is willing to look at me like I am a human being.

If he is willing to treat me like a human being.

But alas there there is a puddle of cool, still water at my feet in which my reflection peers up at me and says, "Lo, he shall not change."

I've been sad and hurt so many times that this last fight has been like hacking at dead wood. I feel none of it. But when he called me just now and spoke to me genially, I started crying.

I feel so at odds with myself. It should just be easy, like buying beef at the market.

I never imagined having to slaughter the damn cow.

Actually spoke with Mike today in language lab. He has rounded eyebrows. *nod*

He's a pretty cool down-to earth guy. I'm very jealous of his ability to travel everywhar. For example, he is going to China in November to visit his girlfriend.

I wish Emmanuel could do that if I was in Hong Kong.

Correction lads and ladies that is now when I am in Hong Kong. I got accepted :D Now it's just paperwork and those kinds of formalities.

I hate this cough. I can't wait for it to go away so I can go back to the gym. :(

Haven't spoken to Emmanuel in two days. He called me back this morning and we spoke for a little. I thought he was mad at me but he says he wasn't. It was awkward; probably because he was sleepy. I let him sleep.

I think I'm starting to find myself.

Well, I don't really agree with the idea that you're finding yourself just because of the fact that you're making more friends.

That's like saying I am nothing without the right group of people around me. Undesirable thoughts.

But I am feeling happier since I've been making friends with the int'l studies people.

The guy who looks like a Persian Heath Ledger is named Trace and on closer inspection doesn't so much look like Heath Ledger as he does a kind of maybe Asian Heath Ledger with some kind of Jewish thrown in. He is German as well as Swiss and has a profound German nationalist brewing in there somewheres. Fond of black v-necks and jeans, like Emmanuel.

I can't even think about Emmanuel right now. I can't even think about him in a warm cuddly way, much less sexually or critically. I just... can't think of him at all without conjuring up these wounded feelings.

And about what, I don't know.

Maybe it's a profound weariness? Maybe I'm just sick of this shit.

Dreamed up a shrug made out of soft green wool. Perhaps it should be felted, or no, just with chunky grass-green yarn. It would have gathered puff sleeves with a princess collar and and curvy rounded shapes. Matching green enamel buttons. There should be little bobbles on it, maybe some border panels with curling shapes. Haa.

It's these kinds of thoughts that keep me sane, that keep me floating like a lily pad above all the mud. I've been meeting all kinds of wonderful people, and it's hard for me to think that I am anybody all that special.

Cookie is this amazing girl, and I feel a bit cowed in her presence. She is of the earth, and I am a whisper in the grass. She stands firm, her and all her youthful girth radiates warmth like a cliffside in the sun. I really like her. I feel stupid around her though.

Had debate with Ali about conforming to the system and what it meant to be educated. He said to stop comparing ourselves with others and making judgments on people based on our own standards. We argued because I told him he was wasting his time at the University if he wasn't showing up to tests in Chinese class, to which he responded he didn't care.

Maybe I should stop comparing myself to other people. I most certainly am. Sitting in I/ST 200 is like going to an intellectual beauty pageant in which Mike is the perennial Miss Universe and everyone else is a spinning twirling galaxy and I, I am a dust mote, I am a hydrogen atom dissolving into protons and electrons and back again. I am not even stable enough to remain whole at any one time.

I am the semblance of a whole. I want to fall apart at this table right now. My dignity, like a weak magnetic field, shakes me, tells me to pull it together, man. We've not weathered the worst of this storm.

In other words, I feel useless.

Yesterday met beautiful spirit named Annie while I was hanging with Dave at his usual place. Met a girl named Amanda who seemed very young and already had a daughter aged 3. Met tall person named Collin who was fun. Met even funner person named Matthew who was just a riot and I suspect gay.

Annie sang for us "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and made the whole of my day. She varnished my day with a color of sunshine, the color of her voice. She sang with such a classic and pure voice, as if Audrey Hepburn or Judy G. herself was singing to us, like a sparrow song.

But the heavy rain of insecurity and sorrow washed that happy color off my day and by the end of the night I was depressed and sullen yet again.

Will there be no permanent happiness for me? The more I delve into something, the more I find that I have accomplished nothing at all.

Why do I hate people so much? Was it because I was raised in loneliness, and now I shall flounder in it? LIFE LIFE LIFE you are si dur.

sonic youth- superstar

don't you remember you told me you loved me babyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy~~~

baby baby baby baby baby~~

lalala.


everytime he fucks it up i love him a little less. and one day it shall dwindle to nothing, and it will hurt less than shaving my legs to leave him. one day.

and yesterday i loved him so much it hurt.

and i will repeat myself everyday, like a mantra for independence. and it shall go on and on and on.

i'm hurting so bad right now. i don't know what to do.

fuck it fuck it fuck it, man.

i wonder if all relationships are like this. or if it's possible to be with somebody and just be chill and whatever about it all. not like completely anal about every fucking detail.

or if like rusting gears it always winds down to a cold brittleness. a glass etching held above the ground at great heights. and etc.

Wondering if I should get more into this blogging thing. I need to get a new camera, one that is small and portable, which will allow me to document things more easily, ie. take camwhore pictures wherever possible.

I lost 5 lbs. since that first Gogol concert. Am currently devising way to convince Mum that all I need to lose weight is more concerts and clubs. Unexpected leverage.

Currently feel like I was in a fight with a crowd. Like a whole crowd. Like a mass of arms and legs jumping and bumping together, crashing on my limbs. An old bearded man elbowed me in the crown yesterday during Gogol's spirited rendition of Harem in Tuscany, but it was all in good fun. I love that about these kinds of shows. You could fall on someone's breasts and they'd just shrug it off. YAAAY breasts.

Now must slake thirst with something, anything. Who's in town next, where else to go. Despite the obvious limp in my poor foot, and the aching in my arms and the small of my back, I am invigorated.

That's such a good word. Invigorate. To imbue with life. To make lively. To make alive.

I am made alive with this music. I am made alive, and I look forward to doing things. Yes yes yay.

AHHHH HELLO PEOPLES OF THE WORLD.

Everytime Emmanuel says something disparaging I love him just a little less. And yet everytime I see him and everytime he kisses my forehead my love for him is renewed. Yesterday he was very beautiful, and I was happy to be with him.

At first I believed he loved me more than I loved him. But the tables have turned.


This does not invigorate me.

i am so sick. :( can only hope to enjoy today. sorely wished i was in the best of form, but alas. feel fuckin' awful. what else can you ask for eh.

lallalalalalallaalallalalalallalala. i wrote a poem, but am loath to post it, as i am scared to shit of having my shit copied. oh oh plagiarism. people will stoop to no lows, i tell thee.

dadadadadadadadafd ddaaadaadadadadadadadadadaaaa da da.

so excited to see gogol again today. everything else is secondary.

hopefully emmanuel will not be asshole today. will sorely dampen spirits.

the grass is growing. how exhilerating and exciting, the study of the mysterious birth of things. no wonder children are so precious. what curious a thing is growth. oh oh oh.

calmez-vous calmez-vous. j'ai mal au coeur.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

j'ai mal au coeur. quelqu'un, aidez-moi. aidez-moi. mon coeur tombe quand il doit voler.

Everytime I try to talk about the barren wasteland that is my uterus, I feel like crying. But if I don't talk about it at all, it's ok. Typing it is ok, too. Somehow, it feels more like somebody else's problem.

Emmanuel says he doesn't care, that we can just adopt, that it's just temporary, the doctor said so. I hope so.

I've never really given it much thought, but I really did want to have a child of my own. The time, the pain, the frustration a couple goes through to have a child, it seemed so magical. If Emmanuel and I went through that it would bind us forever. We would have a child together.

It's so funny how we say words without realizing their power. Repeat it yourself again, slowly. Savor and appreciate, realize all the implications of that singular sentence.

We would have a child together.

I won't ever get to know what that's like.

I guess typing it is not okay, either.

In other news, I am writing my essay for Study Abroad and am having a time of it. It's only supposed to be a page long, so I am scrabbling for terse words, culling for brevity.

Also I am looking at clothes and shoes and plugs. I haven't bought anything at all! Just food, and it's been 20 dollars a frickin' day for the past few days. My friends are expensive. Mes amis sont tres cher.

Tomorrow I should like to go to a museum, perhaps, or to the Huntington Library. I'd like to have a nice day, doing something nice, eating somewhere nice. I feel well enough to go running tonight. I shall do so.

Gone are the days in which I vacillated for hours on end. I realized that instead of lying about for half an hour dreaming of being Chun Li, I could actually train to be Chun Li.

You all really don't know how much I'd like to be Chun Li, with her fecund thighs.

Fecundity is not a word that shall describe me, anymore. Lalalala.

i vacillate, mes amis. i vacillate.

i also hunger. am very hungry, atm. am wondering what i shall get for food. perhaps just a smoothie? or something perhaps more substantial, like a salad. om nom nom nom.

have been lately obsessed with Vagabond, the story of Miyamoto Musashi. :) the art is si beau, it makes me want to cry. For example, there was a closeup of a sandal that was so expertly rendered I wondered if he had simply xeroxed a photo. each and every fiber on that twine-woven sandal strap was expertly and vividly recreated. It was beaaauuuttifffulll. And his storytelling is quite divine.

in other news, if my period doesn't come today, i am infertile. it has been ten days. the depoprovera is making me sick. i feel horrid and tired all the time.

maybe i would like a salad. with some tomates.

will shortly be working on an essay for study abroad. i shall finish this before i luncheon.

in other news i think emmanuel has a job interview today. that is pleasing. hopefully he does well. i so sorely want him to do well. :(

hmmmm.. no time to do reading. i have to abandon the idea that i will have a social life and devote myself entirely to my work. i will perhaps have a piece of cheesecake when i go home, though. it's sitting there, waiting innocently. i want tomorrow to be over already, so that friday can come. that's my only day off now, truly and surely. all my days are crammed full of nonsense and business.

no time to do reading. i'm ashamed of myself. no more social life, no more social life. my head hurts immensely. i just want to go home and sleep. and eat. and sleep some more.

will have to go running, though. perhaps later at night, when i am not so wrapped up in the details of being alive?

Am trying to make some sense of my week.

Today did school, went to Rancho with Eden to visit the old folks. Encounter with Martin equal parts awkward, bitter, and funny, like biting into a malformed lime.

Kept falling asleep in class.

Had terrible nightmare last night about some guy who ambushed me in the all-too realistic setting of my bedroom. He had cried "SNIPER RIFLE" before sniper rifling me in the gut. Enraged by such a terrible dream death, I struggled to awaken as pain enveloped my belly and blood gushed from my mouth. Then I went back to sleep dreaming about elementary school and Kingdom Hearts antics. Lighthearted, epic fun. Woo.

Went to the doctor, as I am concerned about the fact that my crotch has not let forth its bloody deluge since... like... January.

Took pregnancy test, which came up negative. So I took a blood test and am taking depo provera in the hopes that it might induce a period. It will, if I'm ovulating.

If I don't get a period in ten days, it means that I am not ovulating.

Which means I'm infertile.

Which means I can't have kids.

The doctor explained that it wasn't some kind of death sentence: that just because I might be infertile now doesn't mean I won't be fertile at some point later. So that might account for why I don't care so much. Kids, whatever.

The blood test is to test for a couple things. Either I have a thyroid disorder or I have a tumor which is supressing my cycle and causing my amenorrhea (lack of menstruation).

Good news all around, eh.

i desire to be a seditious rapscallion.

just got out of class. my new favorite, kids. global politics, oh, it's like stepping onto a minefield of supressed anger and passion. Like you had pent up bunnies in hutches and fed them gray pellets of subpar public education for twelve years and now had let them out onto the fresh, green grass of a true public forum. Like someone had said: "The World And What Pisses You Off About It: Go."

Fantastic. Really educated people getting together and finally spouting off their heads. This young guy, named David, who looks a lot like Moby and checks the stocks on his black Macbook Pro, won't stop talking. I mean, it's cool, hey, this impassioned jeune, you know, but it's a bit disruptive. He's very idealistic, saying that the masses ought to rise up and come together, like a youth brigade tending to the hurts of the lesser peoples.

Well, wouldn't it be wonderful, but you'd have to take man and make him an angel. You'd have to have a million Bodhi trees under which we all must sit and fast, and there would be no more pain for anybody. It would be marvellous, but kids it doesn't work that way! Oh, David! Please understand, the party system as we know it won't work the way you want, and people have got their individual problems and that's the way it is, quite simply. Sad sad sad.

Will be seeing Emmanuel in Long Beach today. Looking forward to doing something real substantial today: what, I don't quite know, but hopefully it requires more than us lounging in my car at Rite-Aid like we normally do. Gosh that's old. I really want to stretch my legs out, cats.

dance dance dance hay!

am feeling v. down.

i'm taking a look at all these classes, and it feels as if i have burst my own bubble. i feel like, all along, i have pretended to be on the top of this hill, when really i am at the bottom of the mountain.

all along i have imagined that perhaps i am pretty damn smart. but kids there are a million others smarter and bolder and wonderfuller than i. it is a saddening thought.

what caaan you do.

i need to speak to dr. noble, but i don't really relish speaking to him. he makes me feel very stupid, as if i ought to know this stuff already. i feel quite lost. i wonder if it's not so much the sense of confusion and displacement as it is the confounding sense of stupidity in which i have steeped myself, like realizing i've peed my pants after a good guffaw.

kids what are we left with. sigh sigh sigh.

made spam musubis yesterday with emmanuel. good times.

song: heroin- the velvet underground

this song makes me feel real insignificant, as if the feelings i feel and the thoughts i think are just stinking rotten thoughts, real unimportant shit, you know? and... well. it leaves me speechless.

hey jesus! jesus guys hey.

i hope emmanuel is really real about smoking together, that would be ever so grand. bruce says you shouldn't have sex when you're on drugs, because it makes all sober sex afterwards pale in comparison.

man, talk about forbidden fruit.

soooooo.... i don't think this song is finished. it cuts off right at the end :(.

aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhh.... yeah, it cuts off. i'll just download a new one from trusty bitttorrent.

i shoulda been born with these songs. i feel like my heartstrings have finally found the right notes to sing.

kids the day is not yet started, and yet all i want to do is dream and dream and sleep. i want school to start, so i can commence being so busy i don't eat, and don't sleep, and run all around and around and be lonely again, as usual.

i'm so lonely at school, kids, and i am there all the times. i really don't want to go through that again. sigh.

with hope and sadness maybe i shall dive into schoolwork so far i won't notice.

i wish emmanuel was closer. it's so hard to dedicate a whole day to seeing him. i wish i could do more things, some days. like join the newspaper. aahhhh high.

hats.

I have become obsessed with this hat. I finished one yesterday, and am now experimenting on something shimmery shiny and wonderful with this deep purple heathered satin sport yarn. Mmmm the name is as sumptuous as the yarn feels. :D I've gotten almost to the point of finishing, but I decided to rip out half of it tomorrow and start again with another pattern. I want it to be pretty! And shell stitch is very pretty indeed. I'm very tired. My eyes are caked with eyeliner and mascara and I need to wipe that shit off. Ugh. Tired guys.