The Choreographed Charade

Happy Valentine's Day!!!

So... I guess things are okay, but still... they seem mostly dead. (How does it feel!)

And I am sitting in the Cathedral, burning with guilt and so ashamed, but I needed to try... And, of course, to buy. Does she understand? Will she?

On Friday I went to a strip club with E-the-R and then to 1020. He is really changing and I so know what it's like because I've been there... He is finding the space outside himself and even though it hurts, he is starting to fill it. I doubt that he knows the trip ahead of him. I have barely rounded the corner and already I am exhausted. (How does it feel!)

Went to a party at GoldenFinch's last night and hung out with B, whom I love more and move, even though he is turning into such a recluse... (I have no one to meet and your ancient empty streets too dead for dreaming!)

I was supposed to go up to AIR7's tonight, but he cancelled at the last minute... And I was supposed to go to the movies with E-the-R and Ray, but they cancelled... And I asked GoldenFinch if she wanted to go to the movies, but she said she doesn't have enough money, and so I am here...

I hate it lately, though... I have lost myself and I have lost my poetry and I suppose that it is all so much more healthy... But then, at moments like these... moments of emptiness, I really feel scared and dead and purposeless. It's like a vague colored confusion and a blank map. No place to go to and I'm not anyplace either. And it's at moments like these that I desperately want to be filled... with anything or anyone and so I spend money and hate myself, or I Spend six hours on the phone, only to hear the silence of my room even louder when I hang up, or I drink (well, actually no... I never feel the emptiness before that because that is an activity and I'm WITH someone). But you get the point (Mr Tambourine Man.)

I guess the aesthetic of isolation was not invented int he '90's as I had always so selfishly imagined.

And it's at moments like this when I all I want to do is scream and scream until my ears bleed and my throat cracks and I shatter this glass and all of these dancing figures in their choreographed charade.

But I can't...

And so the gulf of emptiness only widens... pressing my shoulder blades further and further apart with a cold, dull ache. And I desperately wonder "Who can I call?" "What can I do?" "Where should I go?" And the questions run faster and faster in ribbons crying "FILL IT! FILL IT! FILL IT!"

And I, at moments like these, try to remember when I filled myself and how I managed it. But then I remember that I am spilled into seventeen different jars now and I can never poison myself again. I am "fixed" and linger... I'm not sad... Not at all... There is no drama; no fear; no joy; no pain... There is only this empty purposelessness and a desperate need for activity to pull my mind back into their dance.

Wind the knob on my back and push me back out onto the stage...It has run out. Somehow I always slip out of them all the time.

Connection, connection.... (Alienation).