come and hear the funeral marchmaybe this is your silver star
maybe this is more pure, purer than sin
maybe this is all i have
xx2x
je me sens seule ce soir. je viens de regarder girl, interrupted et je pleurais le temps entier. je ne sais pas pourquoi. je me sens fatique. mon corps, mon esprit, tout. je doit aller dormir. ma gorge fait mal. mes poignets faisent mal. nonsense.
i love my room. i love my mom. i like liberty players and the racial discussion/book group. i love my friends and family here. but i hate it here, frequently. i found something though. when i was at ryan's a few days ago. i was reading a letter i wrote to him my freshman year of college - just at the end. then the U of M had trimesters, and classes went until mid june. this quote is dated 21 may 1999:
"i miss my kids at home...i'm glad i moved, i think it has been healthy; but i miss having hella people to hug and lots of familiar faces and people who understand where i'm coming from. i guess i am kinda lonely up here..."
this is me, living in mpls, writing about my friends in madison, barely 18 years old. sounds kind of familiar, kind of inversed. kind of like someone who hasnt yet built up a life shes comfortable with where she's at. i miss ponge a lot. i didnt at first. at first everything was too wierd and i was too...displaced, to miss much. but lately, sometimes, i have an actual physical ache in my chest.
i was a misfit all weekend. i went places i wasnt in the mood to go to in social situations i wasnt in the mood to be in. i went to bars and parties and new peoples apartments and spent the day with a bunch of tramps. like travelling drunken punk types is what i mean. one of them told me, when i came back to the house to get my hat that i forgot there, that i have hairy armpits and legs and lookit you, you're beautiful! you really ought to have more confidence in yourself. is that what it is? confidence?..im not sure.
i didnt really join the festivities. friday i got a little drunk, but ive been doing this odd social travelling since thursday.
i just watched. and thought. people kept asking me if i was having a good time. well, no. i wasnt, i would say. but they were new people and i didnt want them to think i hated them, so i would have to explain that i just felt very tired. which was true. i do/did feel tired. physically. emotionally. something...i also could have drank, i know that would have given me energy. i know i would have felt like playing with all these strangers then. but i didnt feel like it...i didnt care to guzzle sociability. temperate happiness. forgetfulness.
i need to start carrying a little notebook with me. people are saying interesting things all the time, and i want to write them down and analyse them.
not drinking when everyone else is is worse than not tripping when everyone else is. people understand it less. people think you are unhappy or a bitch or pregnant or something. because youre not whooping and hollering like the crowd, your energy is different. not that i dont get hyper and forward sometimes on my own, but with alcohol is this like gauranteed state of emotions. but i dont always remember what i was talking about the next day, or even some of what i did...and my dreams are so real that the alcohol memories and dream memories get confused sometimes.
....vXv.....
my diary got reviewed. i asked for it. apparently the person who does the reviewing is a homophobic uber-vanilla tightass grammar facist. here are some quotes:
"Each picture contains a link to either a bondage, fetish or gothic site... If you're into this sort of expression, that's your business. Personally, it makes me sick and by far, this is the sloppiest "design" I've ever ever encountered."
"Remember that don't and we're do have apostrophes in them"
"you place a lot of emphasis and put forth much of your energy in your writings of politics, gender and cursing. Sigh... why me? Sorry, I don't do well with cursing."
"Despite the lack of capitalization, your vocabulary is almost massive. It's very nice to read a diary with strong adjectives. Each event that you write about is described in detail. Your topics are, overall, pretty well rounded, very honest and to the point. You are very passionate in everything you write about. I like that!"
"Would I come back? Never in a million years. I'm just going to go back to bed, try not to vomit & forget I ever reviewed this diary."
i got 81/100 points. apparently aside from being sloppy and offensive i rate a B. must be my charm and good looks.
i guess a few points:
1 - i swear. deal with it, its a fucking diary not a thesis or newspaper article. maybe swearwords are my punctuation.
2 - fetish seriously makes this person that ill? i think that is really odd. grow up.
3 - using punctuation and being a possessor of vocabulary are independent variables. again, its a diary.
4 - dealing with gender and politics IS personal. some of us are paying attention.
pOintLeSs
