– Bought a shitty Diamond Back mountain bike for $80 (it’s solid, but definitely shitty)
– Paged out almost an entire 6×9 trim book for production
– Thought about how slobby I’m getting, gotta cut back on everything
– Listened to “Down by the River” by Neil Young and “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac about 50,000 times
– Drank from sun-up until sun-down, regardless of headaches, liveraches, or sister
– Read more of my own work than I have in a very long time
– Managed to upset my girlfriend still more
– Decided that I am an idiot and a fool and the dogs are coming to get me
– Didn’t call anyone back that I promised I’d call back because none of them are my GF
– Didn’t get what I wished for
I feel like I have crossed some kind of threshold, but I don’t know what it is. Everything is up in the air. I would like to have a gun. I would like to have a house on wheels. I would like to have you on the floor.
I can’t touch what I feel but I can taste it, metallic in my mouth and light, like dead children or climbing vines. I am remembering people from my past.
I am remembering.
I feel like I have crossed some kind of a threshold, but I don’t know what it is.
Everything I think and feel is offensive to one of my people, which means that it is time to get new people. Maybe it’s better if I’m alone. Maybe it’s better if I’m dead. Whatever, I don’t care. I’m just tired of being dehumanized.
Do I sound like a feminist? Well I can’t because I’m a man. I know, I know, let’s all sing it together now, “I HATE MEN.”
Well, so do I. And women. In fact, I hate all of you. Bunch of self-centered prikkish bitttchish American bourgeious sex-flavored capital-sucking whatever whatever whatever I’m just going to jump off a bridge and leave an offensive note that suggests that you all are reponsible, and you can feel twice as guilty when the press doesn’t give my corpse much coverage,
The only freedom of speech that matters is the freedom to offend to the point of utter destruction, whether self or others.
More than anything else, I am tired of people telling me to trust them, as though such a statement can ever have any bearing whatsoever on trust. Trust is a simple subject: earn it and its yours; violate it and you lose it. Dot.
Everyone, everyone has lost it. I am the greatest person that ever lived, and everyone else is dirt.