Drugs are Empowering

Wanting my power back...

"Forget regret" "No Day but Today" Right?

Power, Power, Power in Powder
And smoke, flashes of strength, pounding hearts, thick eyes, tight shirts, and freedom from self and from his stupid ideals.

I want to be on top of the world again, against the pavement until death...

No more weakness.
No more wishing.

Only getting everything I want, whenever I want it and from whomever I want it!!!

Watching the Christmas Lights

Sitting on the steps, showered and alone and staring into the rainbow starlight that I did not give him and could not share. And while part of me feels safer, my miracle and the secret pleasure of this annual beauty has lost some of what it used to make me dream... It is BEAUTY and not something to be given. That I couldn't give it to him means that I didn't (don't) trust him and how can that be the fullest love?

And without the fullest, truest love, how can I be full? There is always something MORE.

And why did he so readily say to "keep it for myself?" Is he not ready to share?

And so alone in other Christmas house, the rounded tree, the warmth of the parlour... even the cool wooden slats are smeared with the dull reflection of color-- impressionist stripes... and of course... my starlight. (The wind chimes faintly sing).

And I have moved to the couch where a golden reindeer stands through the glass-- visible and invisible against the waving of the flag... glowing kisses... pure beauty because it is pure color and light.

And all I have ever wanted my life to be is that color and light...Whether it is the crystal sun shining into the Hudson, or a shimmering pane of stained glass casting quivering gelatin shadows, or the simple glow of a colored light bulb reflected into the window and the night and the mirrored walls of the china cabinet.

But I can't shake this self-loathing... this choking that dulls every star... this trapped ache. And God, how I want to slice myself... cut myself open and free my soul from here... from this disgusting grounding form... And all I see are his eyes straining to stay fixed on the monitor... and that "luscious" girl.

He said that he wants to shower me with love... but what if I don't believe in love anymore? I mean, I still love him, but I really feel like I have lost an innocence and hopefulness that will never return. I don't know if it is so bad that I can't adjust, but I will never be free of myself again and I hate him for that. I feel disgusting... I have no dignity... raped...

And I know that he's sorry, but what good does it do to be sorry that you ate from the tree? Paradise is Lost (not to sound too ridiculous), but it is!

The lights have lost their sparkle because my dreams have... and I choke, choke, choke... empty inside once more.

And so... although the beauty is there, it is muted behind veils of anguish and LOATHING and despite his effort not to "take" the sanctity of my Christmas lights away from me, he has...

Rape steals all beauty from the world and buries it in the flesh which I long to burn away, slice away... the flesh that I ache to vomit up all the time... each time I eat.. more and more.

And I am trying so hard to be strong... to keep perspective, but for what? I have perspective! He said hateful things and so I hate... He said loathsome things and so I loathe! He compared me to them and now I do the same... every minute and hour of the day...

...and he has put me here. And it will kill my spirit. And no matter what facade I can muster up with my strength, my soul dis being gnawed away at every day... and my colored lights will forever be past my fingertips-- nothing is sacred. I have been raped of all beauty.

Dying on the Inside

The past week has been as bad as any that I can remember... And I hate him for taking away my trust and self-respect and leaving me in this inescapable hell. That girl in the computer lab...
...I have thrown up without stopping and I really think I should have left him, but I love him so much that I can't. But, I know this pain will never heal. I hate him! I HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE him!!! And I wish I were dead and that he were dead and that I could see that girl scarred and mutilated and disfigured and suffering and I would laugh and spit on her.

What am I saying? Who have I become? I don't know what happened to the old me... The one with the soft-hearted compassion... But I know that a large part of me has been exterminated. I don't care about anyone anymore... He humiliates me. I have no more dignity, self-respect, sense-of self, trust, hopes or dreams...

Fuck him!

And I love him, love, love, love, love, love, love, love him with all of my soul until death. I love him beyond words or emotion. We are soul mates... I know it.

And so, it is hopeless. And once again, I can only wish to die...

I will never be happy again. NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER!

I want to scream and I can't. I want to SCREAM!!!!!!!!

********************************

Later, and in the Post Office... On line for money-orders for B's grad school applications. The line is taking forever and my back hurts and all I want to do is cry and get rid of this well of pain pounding down on my chest. I feel so numb and my eyes can hardly focus on anything anymore... The background. And everyone around me blurs and I can't focus enough to do anything about it, can't think clearly, can't see... Only that girl and my pain and the dull fluorescent lighting of the computer lab.

I hate her, hate her, HATE her!

And it scares me how much hate I am filled with... Almost as much hatred as I have love for B.

Waves

This week is just not letting up, and i am digging myself deeper and deeper into a hole. On the M-11, on the way to the music library... And B stayed back to sleep and I really can't blame him.

And fucking choir caroling tonight and it's really pissing me off.

Anyway, on Monday it will be done. Then three beautiful days of sweetness in the city before home for Christmas Eve.

I talked to VJ last night and she said that she's okay. She's coming back to campus next semester. I think she misses spending time with me and I genuinely do have fun hanging out with her... She's right... We used to be like "Amac and AIR7" with each other.

I had lunch with GoldenFinch yesterday at the West End. It was so nice. We talked about "Tolstoy-ism," the future of music theory, the existence of God and modern art. Her piece was performed at the undergrad composers concert last night-- "Waves." The whole concert was phenomenal. I also heard a string quartet by NiS. It all made me miss composing so badly and I felt almost sick about it. I was SO proud of GoldenFinch though... She truly is a best friend.

I am resolved to learn FINALE and then to write over the break. I have to get my computer fixed. Maybe I will bring it in somewhere right after finals. I want to write myself and aria... Maybe that beautiful poem in B's book... And one for my mom to her Alice Walker poem.

Must get off the bus!

My 21st Birthday

Well, thank god for compassion because he promises that he understands and that it's different... and that he has opened his eyes and grown up and let go... And he loves me as much as I love him!!!

Yesterday was my birthday and it started off crappy because at midnight I wanted to go to XandO for smores and they were closed. Then he fell asleep while I was stuck doing "chromatic" homework and I had really wanted to be warm and cozy and talk. Then I had to wake up early to do an unspeakable amount of work-- the Tolstoy paper, the Vermeer paper and more Chromatic. But things looked up because he gave me the most beautiful snow globe that plays "Winter Wonderland" and sparkles with snow and opalescent glitter. Inside is Old Man Winter and a bluebird and all around the fringes is a forest. He also gave me a necklace-- to make me feel like "a princess" all day long. It is the most beautiful ever-- sapphire and diamonds-- and I never imagined such a gift from anyone!

Then the day was mired with work, but we did go to XandO and at 8:00 PM we met friends at Henry's for dinner and drinks. After that, we went to SoHa and they didn't even bother to card this time! I got pretty drunk, but it was all fun.

Anyway, today it's back to work. Finals are absolute hell this year, but it will all be over a week from today. (That's kind of scary, considering I have to write a 20 page paper, a 10 page paper, take three exams which i am TOTALLY unprepared for in that time-- plus 10 pages in short papers for Blake).

Anyway, I am so in love in love in love that I don't care. I'm starting my diet again tomorrow... All right, must go to class soon...

Self-Hatred

It's been a long time since I've had to write, and blissfully happy... but my stupid, stupid fear gnawing at everything. That I will be abandoned...That, like he said, he will want someone else. And he says he does, but only in fantasy... And if it's dumb for me not to be able to accept that as "the nature of the beast," maybe I'm just dumb. It just feels disrespectful and unloving and most of all, unhappy. And it makes me feel so self-loathing and unattractive.

Ugh... I hate myself. I am a weak-willed piece of shit and I deserve to die for eating that rice today... oh yeah-- and that ice cream last night.

I don't want to stay this way. I am just a weak, loathsome, piece of garbage and I can't blame him for wanting to be with someone else... I wonder what he imagines. Like when Air7 told me he tries to picture what every girl looks like giving a blow-job. I guess I should shut up about it to him because he says he will never change.

But I will never be able to accept or reconcile this... I will wonder abut everyone that I see...And since I can't hate all women, I will only hate myself.

ChoirMan's Car

I am in ChoirMan's car waiting for him to come out of the liquor store so that I can go up and see B. But I am still feeling a strangeness... my two worlds... and such rosy excitement that came with the fearlessness...

That is what I miss most-- fearlessness...

He's back.

Angels

And at last I am!

I am not writing now out of will, but rather out of obligation and a need to clear the air. In a taxi on my way to Dr. G...

Sunday cleared up when the tears finally spilled and he assured me, promised me that as much as he loves me, he won't ever leave me. He said he is lucky and proud and I am so confused, but happier that I've ever been before...

And although I am exhausted, I have all the energy in the world. He is like an angel to me.

Anyway, it's a little too bumpy to write.

Imperfections

Happy, Happy Birthday to my B!

All of that from yesterday seems to have resolved, but old words still linger... And I don't want to feel it, but I do... so ugly. But I must try to smile and not ruin his day and to shift this melancholy to another moment.

I must smile for him and wish... Wish to be more perfect.

Mystic

And today was almost so perfect. And my dreams swelled into great glass bubbles... Shimmering snow-globes of sugar and gold. Rosy cheeked babies and water black as ink and gently creaking wooden docks, the air full of the smell of coal... And what beauty filled my imagination! And he said we'd never afford a home on the water or the boat which rocks my sadness to sleep, or the fringed lamps or silk upholstered chairs with antique angels smiling from shelves above. Looking down with gleaming amethyst eyes...

And it's not that I care about money, or about any of it as much as I love him... It's just that i care about hope. And why must I say that Ill give up all of my dreams? Of course, I would, will... I most likely will... But why doesn't he want to give up his hope for mine?

If the water makes my eyes sparkle, why isn't it worth it to him to try? Why must I never live my poetry for which my heart aches with all its being? I know that the only way to have my dreams is to earn them myself...

I see an unbridgeable gulf between us. And when tears rose, he spat in annoyance.

I must be strong...

Dream alone.
Stand alone.
Achieve alone.

Remain alone.

The Tranquility of Mauve

On the Orient Point Ferry, swept by the blue, blue, blue and the quiet of my heart and my B. The wind cleansing with the sweetest scalding pain until my hands can't stand it and beg for mercy. While my eyes (and heart) beg to stay out just a little longer. But when the flush of excitement in my cheeks and chin grow numb, I give in.

And so now, I sit inside... my B's head resting peacefully on my shoulder.

(One thought!)

****************************************

Later, and settled in at the Queen Anne Inn. It's a beautiful B&B in New London-- a Queen Anne style house restored to it's 1903 condition. B and I are in "the Rose Room." It is absolutely beautiful-- ruddy wooden doors, a hardwood floor, and the soft glow of shaded Victorian lamps dancing off the ornamental arms of the brass bed. The room is filled with aged and dusty pinks... miniature green vines and soft cotton lace in golden white.

I imagine Alexandra's boudoir and realize the tranquility of mauve.

The house, itself, is full of hidden cupboards and creaking floorboards. The hallway is a winding carpet of moss green and the whole house seems to warm one from the inside.

Anyway, perhaps more on the house later...

We went for dinner at a family-style place. There just isn't anyplace like that in NY. IT was a huge restaurant with tacky tablecloths, great food and friendly service. We ate until we were stuffed and the only cloud was bulging over my belt. (It's making me feel like shit lately, by the way... I feel so self-disgusted and self-loathing and at the same time, so out of control... Anyway, I don't' want to write about that now because I really don't want to depress myself).

So, now we're back home... Warm and together in the Rose Room at 10:15 PM! We are both exhausted. He is reading the paper and I am writing here with no TV, stereo, traffic sounds, car radio or any other such distraction in sight. It's just us... And I feel like Annie's parents in "Maybe."

All I know is that I love him with everything that I have and that the whole world is reborn!

Beauty

Spotted in gold and reddened blue
Your lips, my love, with lies prepared
And colored cries, half tones confused,
Silence the soaring and muffle despair

All rests, my love, as I know that it should
Lashes brushing white cheeks,
Salty pinks swallowed heart
Kneeling now, my love, they burn, grow good
Licking wicks of truth shape the hues of this part--

Molded into silence...
my love...
into Silence.

Requiem Auditions

Dodge. And Requiem solo auditions for yet another year... Thursday though. And against the white-bared coldness, the suspended yellow and green wafers dot the sky, trembling on the branches below.

B is at Butler... (and those asshole kids in the elevator!)

The beauty of this moment is that I'm coming back to myself in a new way. I can write and I can feel and I can feel safe and warm and love. And nothing here scares me, and even the others, buried in the blackness of their own lonely lives seem like strangers.

There is not much to write right now, except for the novelty of this new pen...

(And here's another new pen! This one's not disposable, and much easier to write with...)

"History is a nightmare from which we have not awakened."
-Joyce

"History would be a wonderful thing, if only it were true."
-Tolstoy

Dinner with Mittens

The wool is braided thickly
In bands across the coldness of flesh
But still...
The veil around the black
And soulless spark of your eyes
Turns my ears pink nails blue flesh white
Unbinds the braids
Discards the Wool...

The Beast that I Have Birthed

On the LIRR, heading home with a hacking cough and my B and I still don't think I've completely recovered from the other night. (The air in here stings!)

I don't know why or how that killed me, but it did. That he regrets parts of me... I felt haunted and oppressed and filthy, but a strange part of my wanted to laugh wildly and run out and do it all again... with breath scented of lemon drops and cloves, blackness smudged in the corners of my eyes, layers of glitter and glass on my lips and arms bound around my waist...

But I suppressed that part of me-- that voice-- and in doing so, shut down all of my strength and buried her. And she seems to be so deeply buried that I couldn't even summon her when I needed to... and that scares me.

In the Heights... and I feigned a coolness which turned form ice to heat in the salt on my cheeks. And then there was nothing-- a depth of emptiness that I have never before experienced and hope I never will again. And I could see him there-- pounding against the glass-- his voice spreading out thinly into thousands of waves. Yellow and red layers danced in stars of verticality and then horizontally, all reflecting his shining black pupils.

And I took nothing.

All of it was sent shooting off the glass of my eyes, skimming rocks across the water. And the even larger lights blinking in my eyes like amber pools, slashed with grates and streaks of taxi cabs, blue uniforms, rifles pointed, softly quivering lower eyelids and all of it swimming just beyond me.

And somehow, the dripping stopped and it ended, although I'm not sure where or when.

And yesterday-- when he called me his "clean, pure, princess" and I am riddled with guilt and scabbing.

I cried this morning over nothing and I feel myself growing more and more dependent on his words-- the old reflexes hammering against their coffin lids with their tiny ancient clawed fists-- and although I have buried them, I wonder if they are dead. (And still, this cough persists.)

And he is writing about me... what he has learned... and he loves me more with each word. But it scares me at the same time... that he will discover something more that I know myself, or that he will create a record and create a living demon out of that horror... give life and breath to the beast that I have birthed and having done so, am ready to slaughter.

I suppose that there is always some measure of fear that comes with trust... but I have always made so many mistakes in trusting before...

And that makes me think of AIR7. As much as he was selfish and insensitive and insecure and cruel, he still has the ability to hurt me greatly, or at least make things difficult for me with the information that he has. But he hasn't, and so part of me wonders if he still loves me... or if it isn't worth the time it would take in his thoughts. And the fact that I still care really bothers me...

VJ said yesterday that we should hang out with him again, and I could feel the color draining from my cheeks. I stumbled for a response. Fuck him for ever making me still think of him at all!

And so, I am fearful and unresolved, guilt-ridden and self-loathing, but blessed with the unbearable bliss of being his "clean, pure princess." A baby girl. And although my staved heart springs to life at such a thought, part of me admonishes it to sit still and fast-- endure its hunger.

(And I seem to find the happiness I seek... when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek.)

Pink and red roses are my cheeks and I cringe at their fullness and the dark shadows under the curves.

God, I am tired! His head rests heavy and gentle on my shoulder and I think that maybe I will rest my eyes too.

I will rest my eyes too...

Notre Dame Morning

Happy three months!

Everything is sitting so still this morning, the gray electric drops sparking wet back off the sidewalk and inside with the warm wooden panels and sandy peach-tiled floors. I don't even know the name of this place...

My heart slightly jumps and my nerves make me sigh as I wait, against the traffic, for 11:15. Another half an hour.

B is singing in church today and KW may come meet us. She said she bumped into AIR7 and he gave her his number.

"Call me any time," he said.

And it scares me. And i wonder how he will exact his revenge.

This food lumps in my stomach and I wonder why I am so endlessly weak and there is no answer... Except to try not to think about it...

B said that Matt A. is coming next weekend and might need to sleep in my room and I wonder if that means that I need to lock up the "chest of sin."

And I am worried about my stepfather and I wonder why. My mom doesn't even want to try. And I brace myself against that choke and think of sparkling rivers laced with the soft white dotted sails of so many dreams like mine and I try not to think about it...

There is nothing left to write and nothing left to mourn, only things to kiss and dream into the eyes of another. And God, I love him so much!

I told Aunt N. that I would write a poem today for Jol. It's an anti-smoking thing with the theme "Be Smart, Don't Start." I need to think of an angle...

I wonder if I should start worrying about midterms and then I know I should worry about getting my chromatic done and I wonder what lullabies I can sing.

I try to correct my handwriting to make it beautiful.

I love him, I love him, I love him.

Wrong on the Horizon

Perhaps the words have not come in so long because there has been that feeling of "drive"... that presence of purpose (albeit empty) of power on the mirror and nights to be filled with sweat in lieu of song.

But again, here, under crashing chords that only serve to mute the cacophony that has been rumbling endlessly since last night.

And I search the room now with an eagle's eye, wondering who and carving her presence into my heart, inching out the small part of myself that I have gained back and then marvelling and my insecurity and self-inflicted injury.

And it seemed so appropriate for a new page, but not now when I feel endlessly wrapped in a time warp...

The swallow of the past few years without the power...

Last night I felt as if I were drifting-- right out existence and severed from the cool mint of the pavement and sucked away from the density of the air and millions of miles away from the smelly sets of subway eyes that I used to stare into as if they were my own... .I owned them. And now... with a broken heart and an aching head and all of the pain, but in a much different way.

How my iced fingers are grasped, but they still fall... and I wonder why.

How could I have been so wrong about the horizon and why; when freedom fails, am I consumed by what I thought could die... I don't know...

I should let it all go, though... I know... Things are good and I can't forget it!

Unwanted

It is morning now (8:37) and not much has changed... My eyes are strained against the distance of my escaped sleep and he doesn't want me. I think that I am done here.

I kind of wish that I could sleep, though. It would make the day much easier today and my eyes wouldn't sting so fucking much...

Maybe I should try to get the last hour before the alarm...

Fucking Pathetic

Inside golden bends that stick to themselves, softly falling ribs. And the leaves from the column tops strain their necks, bending towards the coolness and away from the stone. (Her billowing blue sash). And drops of salt on my cheeks. (Made good through love... maybe that's the problem).

So then, what am I afraid of that it never seems to go...

********************************

Anyway... and later and the most fucked up night yet. I must have cried four times on Coronas and ass fucked and he slapped me. And I am still empty and I am still dead and he still won't say that he loves me and I am still the same after all this fucking and the bliss of this afternoon.

Everything was perfect before... And I was sure that it was all in sync... But the fucking Hudson lies! And the breeze and the lips of those kids and the peace and my waist and the metal railing with the three looming towers pressed against the George Washington skyline. And I should have known!

And I can't even see anymore through these tears and there is no one at the other end of the clouds.

Why do I always fuck everything up? Should I, at this point, expect anything less...?

Grant's Tomb and Vodka

There is almost no point to writing anymore... life is lived at a clip that outruns it and these letters (which were once my soul survival) seem like almost an archaic practice now.

I am in B's new apartment (at 139th Street) (and for the second night) and it is only part of a pathetic favor to help me avoid Grant's tomb, my vodka bottle and myself.

AIR7 called me today with incredible nerve after last night (I mean, the night before...). When he wanted to cum in my face and I said "no" he emotionally shut himself down and I cried and I hate him and then he said that he loved me, and I left and whispered goodbye, which I know is a goodbye forever. (Please God, give me the strength to make it that way). And then the next night, I slept with B (for the fourth time) and am back again, although only to avoid my tears at his fucking phone call.

Am I supposed to call him back (a funny story!). But I can't because it crushes me and I die every time I try to bend him and all of that to my will. I saw Scheisser on Sunday night, too (who was suddenly so charming again) and I wished for the laughter and for the rush and the joy that my life was. And now I am nothing but a fucking slut. (The Irish man at the concert... the Mexican in the bar... the Indian taxi driver) and I hate myself more for it and feel more and more worthless and I desperately try to connect to anyone.

But now AIR7 is taking away form me even that, and so he is taking away everything... I have nothing without him... without sleeping on his shoulder. Without the flashing red smile of the Whitney museum.

(And B says "It's not raining.")

I don't what to do because I can't make things the way that I wish...

B and I saw Eyes Wide Shut today and all I want to do is smoke up (or snort up) and spit on him and his beautiful green eyes and never need him ever again and never wish to be called sweet or made to feel beautiful... Because I am not. I am a slut who never deserved him to begin with and I want to die being denied him, even if I have to struggle with it.

I don't want peace. I want him. I don't want to move on. I want to move back.

But God and the whole fucking world conspire to make happiness impossible.

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, FUCK HIM!!!

Stay out of the Hospital

At MoMa with B and Sharon and her friend for Friday night jazz. And I just saw The General's Daughter and am sweating through weakness and hot flashes. I have to remember the cardinal rule-- push yourself just far enough to stay out of notice and out of the hospital... respect the Golden line. But I just don't want to eat anymore... Last night I did... and fought it off and today I don't want to anymore.

That movie was really disturbing at some parts... her eyes... and the acting sucked. But like he said, she died seven years ago. It was the same in "Sideman" when she kept insisting "I've been dead for 30 years."

And it is possible to be living dead; but the real question is whether or not it is possible to be raised. And nobody really understands.

And I am bored with drugs and I am bored with "good" and I am bored with pretending every day that everything is okay.

And it kills me because I know what I need and I know what the cure is, but it is the one thing that is utterly unavailable because part of me is gone and that is that part of me that I need to be able to give.

Nussbaum & Wu

So, time drags on...

Sitting in Nussbaum & Wu, waiting for AIR7 and our breezy day at Ellis Island to begin. I got my ear pierced last night and B had to hold my hand. (And that Texan in the club and the blue-eyed college counselor in the museum). And my coffee still steams although ten minutes have passed.

I had a really nice day yesterday... Austin Powers with VJ, Gustav Moreau, Chinatown and then the Village with B. And everything is so smooth...

(And I've almost forgotten what he looks like and his bounce and the boundless binding in my chest and throat).

I have to remember to call Switzerland tomorrow because it would just look really bad if I forget to call twice.

Now he is 15 minutes late. And my hair is wet and flat and not very cohesive today and it is bothering me. My ear is gently throbbing. (God! This coffee is still burning hot!) And it tastes like the chew of a coffee bean.

I wonder why my handwriting is so messy and what that says about me...

God damn it, AIR7! Where are you?!?

And I was just thinking about B and putting his thing in at Drip.... Am I that scared? (The way I just wrote that reminded me of that parking sign I saw yesterday that said "Don't even THINK about parking here!")

Anyway...

The Moreau Exhibit

Gustav Moreau

The bricks are blurred and the moss falls like sheets of rain.

Orpheus
The Angels of Sodom

Part of it is the veil-- the thin scratches that come so close that it is hard to distinguish whether they have been clawed through the paint or onto the very lenses of my own eyes...

And the bursts of gold and light like stained glass, but in opaques... That's really where the beauty is... In the thickness of this glowing, vibrant, broken non-glass.

At the Bank (on drugs)

In "the Bank" and frighteningly sober after the blur of the subway ride... although I am still not myself (with those pages stained red) and the prom kids are sore in this world... which is my world of powdery slashes of color and air that makes your eyes sting. And I have lost Liu and NiS. (And somehow feel uniformed here). But this is too much '80's and not enough death and it is my own cigarette that is causing the burn in my blackened eyes. (Literally).

And I wish to die... to pass out... or to make out. And I wish it were Sunday and I were with AIR7 already, although this is what I love.

But I am so tired and want to pass out... And I am afraid if I go back into the pound and into the light that I will pass out (away).

And I want to close my eyes and slip into/away from all of it.

And I wonder if blisters will rise with tomorrow. (Blinded by flashes of red and blue!)

And the kiss from someone... anyone... welcomed against the wall of sickness... emptiness.

Just for the wetness of the moment. (Sunday)

Oedipal Color

Burns of yesterday and arms too cramped to spell and spilling tears that the day will not set free struggle to breathe beneath my parched, tight eyelids and the pressing of before without any reason. (Rubbings of blue will paint me all in those Oedipal colors) and the one blessed slash that comforts and disappoints at the same moment-- my only solace and my reason to fear (Much like HE was in the recesses of my imagination!)

***************************

And thoughts of the beginning of this book (among others) won't seem to leave me alone... tormenting with their plastic pounding yellow beaks (throughout the muddied Corinthian tops).

And the tears slide up and down my throats, sent by the liver (torn from a baby's cry) And infinitely shamed about how reckless I was on Friday night.

NOW to embarrass myself when I was supposed to be making up for it...

Pumps and Loafers

Okay, almost a month later and the same opening remarks. And I am sitting here at Commencement, unable to open my eyes against the fog and the parched white sky. The grass underfoot sleeps stuck together in fat, wet clumps, matted into a soft carpet by trains of pumps and loafers.

Blue and white balloons hang like dots on invisible strings... confetti over the small capped crowd... while everyone pats himself on the back...

And as the sun fades in the already spotless sky, my eyes can relax and I stare at the crisp London tip of Riverside Church and think of Monet.

And I hate this and dread the motion of time, although I am desperately ready for something new and my stomach hangs empty against my spinning head... this is reform. The sky is so threatening today and I can just imagine this ink bleeding and running off the stage.

And someone has released the balloons into the sky and they float away into the blankness to the place of a spoken word. It makes me realize that the sky is not blank at all, but rather it is full and thick with crowds.

I'll Ruin Him

You totally get what you deserve, You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve,You totally get what you deserve, Fuck you, you piece of shit. You are a fucking screw up and you deserve to burn in hell for the garbage that you are. You should be grateful for life at all when it's wasted on a fuck up like you.

But I'll ruin him... I still CAN!

The Threat of Panic

In Pertutti's. I know I haven't written in here in forever... It is all in the Vermeer.

Anyway, I am under an absolutely unbearable weight of anxiety and tension and sickness. My neck aches and the sky is always spinning with the tingling threat of over-oxygenation never far behind. So, maybe I should carry a brown paper bag with me... Maybe I should go buy a pack today.

Choir elections are going up (I mean "coming up") and they are only the edge of the anvil on my lungs... That and the two term papers and dreadful exams that are all looming on the horizon. (At least my nails are beautiful-- a Roman red!)

Speaking of which, BigSis leaves for Israel on Sunday.

Sola, perduta, abandonata in my head...

Die

You stupid dumb fuck... you don't even deserve this memory... worhtless piece of shit... you deserve this pain and more, worse than death and that is what yo'll have. Worthless moron cunt... And he was always right. Just die now. Die like they've always hoped you would. Die before any more of this. DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie DieDieDie

More of the Same

And once again, losing my mind and fighting the nausea and pounding head and all of this fucked up death wish.

And I never remember anything... Not anything anymore.

Dido & Aeneas

In the waiting foom and trying not to feel anything at all... I have to remember to go to Patelson's before that rehearsal tonight... They better have it.

****************************

Later... And at rehearsal for Dido and Aeneas and wondering which special contacts I should get.

Camille's

In Camille's and once again ashamed of the blurs of memory, but he let me cry on his shoulder and he didn't care that there might have been makeup and it reminds me of what a shit I have been crying over all along. And he hugged me so much and I can't believe I allowed that...

I am so stressed out, as usual, and the semester is completely falling apart work-wise. And then I'm worried about Clover running against me for President... God, what will I do? And everyone is going to be gone next year... They're all going to be gone...

God, I'm so tired...

But E-the-R and I are supposed to go to that Vampire club tonight. I have to remember to find out the info on that later.

And AIR7 told me that he became a vegetarian two weeks ago... What was I thinking?!?!

But God, I am so, so exhausted and sick and wish it were all somewhere else or that I didn't care about holding everything together by the threads I strip it down to (in the name of love!).

And God, everyone around here is so irritating. Why are people so damn annoying? (Far from the force of gravity). And the service here is SO bad. I have been here for twenty minutes and haven't even gotten a drink.

(Better to bleed than not to start...)

On Codeine

And living on stolen time in vocal repertoire. And my head is as broken and screaming as the bloody stitches on my hand, severing my thumb and turning back time. And my fingers look spit on with bubble gum.

And despite the three codeine's I took, my head still hurts... but I feel it softening my limbs. The muscles in my thighs melt away and now my thought seems too tired for thought itself and so I concentrate on the loop of each letter despite the stabbing knife against the back of my brain and a headache that makes my lips bleed.

And my heart hangs suspended even though codeine isn't supposed to speed it up.

Dream-o-Meter: Wooded Cabins

I just remembered a little fragment of another dream...

We were all staying at some hotel that was kind of like a group of cabins connected by a long and winding driveway but with woods in between. The dream was really long. The only two parts I remember were at once point I had gone into the city (I'm not sure where we were) and taken a taxi back-- not a yellow cab though. The driver stopped in the woods before we got to our cabin and he started a conversation and of course, as usual, I was friendly, but then he put his hands around my head and started touching me and I struggled out to run and grabbed my walled out of my bag but then realized that I didn't have my bag. I went back for it and the guy was really calm and pulled it out of my reach, so I ran away without it.

When I got home, I realized the Vermeer journal was in there with the stuff that I had written about ChoirMan, so I panicked. I remembered having to explain why I took a cab and not the bus.

In another part of the dream, there was some party everyone was getting ready for. I stumbled into the cabin before ours by mistake and that girl Rachel (who did GoldenFinch's makeup that time) was there doing someones makeup. And BH was there getting ready in the bathroom. Then I went into the back In the bedroom and some woman (I knew she was prestigious and WHO she was, but I didn't know here personally) said something like "I'm surprised your mom was invited." And I got pissed and said "She received a personal invitation from ----- herself!" But I don't remember whose party it was.

I just remember the cab driver being so calm...

Montauk

And I wonder how anyone could ever have not been in love with Blue... At "The End" with GoldenFinch. And the foam makes a watery lace edged with glittery amber and ivory... Stumbling pebbles lodged in their graves... baking in the sun for my pleasure... Their souls drying, leaving white parched bones.

Deception

One month early...

Anyway, in the cab on the way back from Dr. G. and with a twisted headache as bad as two years ago. And the spiced pink marble outside the window matches the faded ruddy rubbings on my hand (At the corner of Sutton Place and Sutton Square).

The weather is perfect Spring today and the sun beams in gentle colors and whispers with promise, promise, promise. But I know what is happening all too soon... The canvas is changing. The characters are all gone.

The End of the World

Back on The Circle Line in the beaming April heat with a headache that has been with me now through four Advil and five hours...

And we just got back from Rome on Monday (It's Wednesday today) and I have been thinking so much about Kosovo and the three boys trapped there and the never ending intrigues of the world that convinces me that history will forever repeat itself until one day our eccentricities and egotism will lead to the end of humanity altogether.

And that idea doesn't seem to frighten me anymore... There is only a bitter calm and a silent frustration at my own futility. And I can't wait to depart and stare into the baking diamond sketched water and wonder if I'm selfish for pleasure in the face of all of this...

I wonder why it is "Europe" that evokes this in me, and then I realize, again, that I am not European at all... Not in the way I think about the world.

And who knows where the time goes...

Flying to Rome

On the plane on the way to Rome (Frankfurt), whatever... and writing in the darkness. I can't sleep can't sleep even though it is Tuesday night and I've only slept three hours since Sunday...

Anyway, I feel this insane stressed clenching in my chest and I keep thinking about how B won't be here next year and how I need him so much and then dreams (or images) of graduation come and I picture the whole thing... Sitting there with choir and I am crying. And then I imagine all of the times hanging out in his room or talking for hours and how that is gone... And how KSing is gone and E-the-R is gone and Contessa is gone and PhysicsGuy is gone... I wonder what I'll do...

God, it's hot in here and I don't want to sleep and I don't want to think...

Ponziano Loverini
Gandino Bergamo

Dream-o-Meter: False Perception

B and I were travelling somewhere and in the airport there were free tickets to Greece because someone cancelled a flight. Anyway, we were on the plan and we had some stop-over in London and in the airport we saw the news and it was about trouble in Jerusalem and they showed Jaffa Gate and the street where the Christian Quarter switches to the Armenian Quarter.

Then, for some reason, we were there and I remember worrying that we didn't fill out visas or anything and hoping that our papers were in order. Anyway, the streets were pretty deserted because all of the "trouble" but I pointed out R's store. We started to walk towards it and I saw my dad walking towards me. He looked exactly like the last time we had been there. It startled me because he was exactly right and I never remember him so clearly. So, I almost believed it was him and I opened my mouth to say something and then he disappeared. I was glad I didn't embarrass myself in front of my friend.

At this point, the friend was no longer B, but I don't remember who it was. I think it was a girl.

We went inside the store and there were a bunch of men there. I said hi to him and introduced my friend (GoldenFinch?) to R, only the men started laughing and said "that's not R! That other guy is!" I looked at the one I said hi to and suddenly he didn't look like R. I looked at the guy they pointed to, but it was a weird looking guy in a baseball cap and i knew it wasn't him and I felt like they were making fun of me. I was really embarrassed.

Anyway, then R came in, but with LilSis, Aunt N and I think Jail and Jol. They sat down at a bog table to eat, that I hadn't noticed there before. My friend changed again, though now I think it was OperaGuy. Anyway, they were all shocked to see me and I explained how we ended up there because of the free tickets to Greece.

"Who would have known," I said, "that we'd all end up in Jerusalem for lunch today."

LilSis had on diamond and gold jewelry (a ring that was solid gold with many small pave diamonds and matching earrings.). Then my mom came in. She asked LilSis where she got such beautiful jewelry. LilSis said that Aunt B had given it to her for her birthday.

"I can't believe that Aunt B gave that to you for your birthday! How much did it cost???" etc. Aunt N exclaimed, flipping out.

Then, LilSis said that Nanny gave her ab rand new pink Cadillac.

"That's a lot more than the standard $100," I said.

"Oh, no... It only cost $1100 and she was doing me a favor. LilSis needs the car," my mom said.

Then it was time to go and I couldn't find OperaGuy.

"Where's OperaGuy?" I kept asking.

Then the fire drill woke me up.

Dream-o-Meter: With Child

I had a baby, but I had been carrying it for someone else. And then I went to some clothing store (a thrift shop) that my family owned an din the back room there were a bunch of people including Jen A and Christina M and I told them about it and showed them the sapphire and pearl jewelry that someone had given to me. And my stepfather had just gone to London and brought me back three quilted robes, but none of them fit me and it upset me. Also, I didn't want to give my baby away anymore and nobody there thought it was weird or a big deal that I had a baby and that they never knew I was pregnant. That upset me too.

An Unsent Letter

Dear AIR7

I'm not really sure what my purpose is in writing this letter... I guess I am just writing because I have been feeling really bad lately. And if it goes unsaid, I will only begin to feel worse and worse...

You and I have a complicated relationship. Clearly we are more than "just friends," but on the other hand, we are just friends. I care about you very much and I know that you say you care about me. It is because I care about you so much and because of the nature of our relationship that spending time with you means a lot to me. You are a priority in my life, but lately I have felt like I"m not any kind of priority to you.

I completely understand that you are busy, that school is your first priority and that it's very time consuming. It leave you little time to hang out. But perhaps because of this, we always see to do things on your terms-- talking when you feel like it, seeing each other when it is your whim. Our whole relationship is founded exclusively on your terms.

Two weeks ago, I hadn't seen you for a whole week and really wanted to see you before I left for New Orleans. You said that you had no time, but then showed up at my suite on Friday, apparently with abundant time. Then, when I got back from New Orleans, after not having seen you for two weeks, you said that you missed me a lot, but then spent all evening hanging out with A and you said you were too tired to stay and talk to me. I guess you weren't that tired after all, though, because then you called me at 2:00 AM, still wide awake. Obviously it was not very important for you to see me or to make time to see me. As one of my best friends, that was very hurtful.

Also, because our relationship is so complicate,d there are other issues as well... I know that you want to be set up with A, and that's really great for you if it works out, but it is still a little difficult for me. You tell me that you love me all the time and although I know that you can see whomever you choose, it's hurtful to me that you choose someone who lives near me and that I must be confronted with it constantly. If you don't love me, don't tell me that you do; and if you don't miss me, don't tell me that you do. It is almost always that your words say one thing and your actions speak another.

Obviously, according to the agreed upon boundaries of our relationship, I don't have the right to demand your time or your love. I can not dictate your behavior. What I can do, however, is to remove myself from a situation which is causing me a lot of pain. I can not let myself love you when clearly, you do not feel the same way about me; and because I can not turn my emotions on and off at will, I may have to take other measures.

I'm not sure what that means... whether it means not seeing you or talking to you until I have cleared my head, or whether I will be able to find another way to deal with it in which our friendship can be preserved.

In that letter that I wrote you in January, I told you that i was making myself very vulnerable. A lot might have happened in the meanwhile, but nothing has changed in my heart. By now, though, all of this is causing me more grief than joy and it has to stop.

I don't expect anything from you now except understanding. Please understand that I will only do what I need to do and that I still love you very much. We will always be friends in my heart.

Lots of love,
Hyde

Preservation Hall

Well... Everything is an experience... I am sitting her in the pit black shadows and cold aged wooden slats behind 50 trousers and flying carnival sounds with the yellow beams coming between their knees and I crouch in the corner.

(The ribbons have been blackened) And his white knee-socks are ash.

Preservation Hall-
On St. Peter's (between Bourbon & Royal)
9:45 (starts at 10)

Predictions! (The New Orleans Psychic)

Happy St. Pat's!!!

I just got my palm read twice. It was awesome!

1.) Long Life-- into my 90s and good health.

2.) Rough times until my late 20's when I Will make some kind of big decision (spurred by a failed intense romance). I will chose to live more practically, also career-wise... This never really satisfies me, though, and I struggle until around age 38-41 and then I'll attempt to get back in touch with who I was before and move into the arts.

3.) I will have success from that later in life-- wealth and a general satisfaction with my life.

4.) In terms of money-- I suck at managing it. I am driven by impulse and artistic love for beauty and I love "stuff," so I am constantly acting on those impulses and I don't strike it rich until much later.

5.) Relationships-- I crave attention and affection so much that I often let my relationships act as stressors for me. I am always a barometer of my relationships, soaring up and down with them and I make myself vulnerable romantically. It is very hard for me to find a soul mate because I am emotionally draining of those I am with. I come into a serious relationship in my late 30s and have affairs because I am never satisfied and always want more and more from life.

6.) I have a tendency to get tied up in the drama of my life which brings me down a lot. But I can make fun of it at the same time. My life is super difficult-- rocky and dramatic until that turning point i my late 20's/early 30's when it all turns around.

7.) I am not super attracted by the marriage/ family scene, but it's unclear if it will happen even though I can picture myself there. I may have one child, bu tit could also be an intensely close relationship with a friend or something.

8.) I will probably live in another country for a while two times. The first time-- in an effort to seek excitement and richness in life and escape myself. The second time-- alter-- in an attempt to find the destiny that I thought I should have, but haven't found yet.

9.) I always live my life trying to taste everything at the same time. This means I have many rich experiences but not the drive to follow through on long term goals without immediate gratification. I get bored easily.

The Punishment Begins

Sitting at the pool at the Holiday Inn. So far, this trip has been really fun, but kind of odd and I guess not really what I had expected. There is insane partying here, though. But night number one I ended up cutting myself and night number two, I got into a fight with ChoirMan.

But, it's all good... We have our first rehearsal tonight and I am looking forward to it even though I have absolutely no voice. (There are so many pens stuck in this fucking notebook!) Whatever... I guess life is pretty good...

Last night Tiffany told me that my sense of style is "a gift." It was really nice. I am going so fucking brain dead from the "renal shutdown" though. I think I'm going to draw instead of write for now...

****************************************

Later, and in the Red Fish Grill and I am more and more disgusted with people. BH made some really sickening comment about some girl in choir undressing who had a bad body and how she "didn't need to see it," how fat that girl was, etc. I can't believe how awful she is... I mean, the girl was not flaunting herself in public. She was just changing her clothes in the hostel!

And ChoirMan too... He is still pissed about us leaving last night, I'm sure. He made some comment just now that he has to go arrange "alternate plans" so that he doesn't get screwed over "like last night."

BH just came by here to kiss me goodbye...

Anyway... he has been ignoring me all day on purpose.

I want some fucking real people.

Isolating on St. Anne and Decatur

Fuck.

I don't remember anything except there's blood all over these pages and I really just want to be left alone.

New Orleans is really fun. Last night there were parades and lights and lots of drinks, only they're pretty strict on carding here. Anyway, the weather is perfect too. I'm sitting on the corner of St. Anne and Decatur right now and GoldenFinch, Contessa, Siobhan, Tiffany and Amy are in the park and GoldenFinch is making a huge deal about how I want to be left alone...

But I hate traveling in groups and didn't sleep enough and I"m starving. I really would just rather go off by myself.

A man across the street is playing Summertime, Danny Boy, Amazing Grace and Pink Panther on his trumpet in front of Cafe du Monde. It is really very beautiful. And Pippi Longstocking just crossed the street. And now there is a fat, sandy-haired man with '80's sunglasses and a thick moustache dressed in denim and carrying a banjo. He is gone.

Drunk and Sorry

(I couldn't bring myself to transcribe this one... )

Desperate for a "Geographic"

And so it goes... And I haven't written in almost a month (except for some Vermeer in between) and I am on the plane on my way to New Orleans, fending off a fever. (And my glowing Alexandra nail is smudged)... but it is the color that AIR7 likes.

And it pisses me off that he is so central, and I wonder why it has to be that way and why he makes me cry so easily... he will never change and he will never understand. And I wonder if I am just caught in a rut with all this... and if I should just throw him off altogether and have faith in myself that I can and will find happiness somewhere... But I don't have that faith, an so it is for those false moments that I will let him twist me this way...

Whatever... I am sick of thinking about it already. Maybe I should just go crazy and have fun again... But I promised that I wouldn't... And to do that would be to break so may promises to so many people at once...

And this plane is going to St. Louis and that makes me think of Scheisser. And that dram I had the other day is bothering me because it means that I don't hate him anymore...And how can I not hate him anymore? It is all form that day that I saw him in the street (with his brother)... he surprised me so... And I felt everything exactly as I used to feel it and then went up and had to swallow my patience with AIR7.

I am so sick of all of these games and routines and twisted relationships, but it seems so hard to get out... I just need a clean break... I just need something new...

Flying to New Orleans

And he never called me back last night... I know he did it on purpose... For the same reason he showed up on Friday to throw it in my face and to prove to me again that he has always had control. And I have to forget all about him and let myself have a good time..

I can.

But only in the airport still and all I think of is him...

But here comes GoldenFinch, so I will pause.

Vulnerability

Headed home on the LIRR. Went with B to his swim test today and then to Nacho Mamas. And talked to Dr. G this morning about why I let it happen... With HIM, I mean. Why I even try to rationalize... Do I really need stuff like that, or is that a rationale in itself? And it's because I can't get angry that I get pissed at waitresses, at myself, and always forgive everyone...

************************************

Anyway... Now it's later and I'm sitting here at Salon 76 with the dye on my hair. (I hope she doesn't make it too dark...) And all I keep thinking about is ChoirMan and AIR7 and AIR7 and ChoirMan and how fucked up everything always is... I am so grateful that he's not coming to the concert to morrow though... I don't know if I could stand that anymore... And I have to remember to write down "the room" metaphor later... I think I can do something to tie it to April and her room.

Anyway, I think I might have put some weight on because I feel fat and bloated and gross and my clothes are tight... My face has blown up (from the drinking?). I will have to focus myself... After midterms though.

Oh! I have to check to make sure that those plans with PhysicsGuy are not at the same time as my Indian Music midterm...

I have to get a new stereo system today...

I'm so glad that B is hanging out more lately... I really don't know what I will do without him next year... In a weird way, maybe the way he disappeared had something to do with my relationships otherwise. Although, who knows...

I am really tired... Almost too tired to write anymore... It's a weird thing with E-the-R though... I liked it when I felt less vulnerable... That's the thing... I feel so vulnerable lately... More than before all this began and more than when I was drinking like crazy and really was more vulnerable...

Indifferent Sex

So... the end of the month and exactly two months after this began with AIR7, we're still having sex... I guess it's not really that big a deal... I was the one who said it was okay because somehow it just seemed logical, despite how illogical this all is... But God, it was last night and this morning and it's 2:00 AM right now and I still ache. I bled too...

There's not really much more to say about it... I am supposed to be studying like crazy for my history midterm, but I can't...

I think I'm just going to go to sleep now so that I can wake up at 7:00 and study...

I wonder if this has changed me... I know that I wanted it and I don't regret it, bu If eel broken in a way... And as if there's less meaning the deeper I dig. I didn't end up going out with E-the-r on Saturday by the way...

I don't know about all this, though... I just want to be loved. I just want to be loved.

I Can't Write a Scream

And so, my words become fewer and fewer... My CD player keeps skipping and it's really pissing me off!

Anyway... Life is kind of the same. I slept up at AIR7's last night. It's like I don't even enjoy it anymore... I just love being held... I think that's what it's all for... Those few moments before and after and everything else melts away. I'm not even sure what the "everything else" is anymore.

Life is pretty boring otherwise... midterms are coming up and New Orleans in two weeks... I still feel really stressed about ChoirMan though, although I don't know why.

GoldenFinch and I went out with PZ on Wednesday (2/24) and saw him play at Birdland. It was fun.

God, though... all I feel is anxious and without a fucking cause! And I want my life to move and to go somewhere and then I realize that I just want to be held... I would throw it all away to be held... Because in those moments, I have it all back.

And then I wonder if I am just using AIR7, and if he's just using me and if it's okay that we're using each other.

It's 11:00 PM and I am supposed to go to 1020 with E-the-R later. But I am tired and have no money... We're back to that. I spent $72 on Wednesday, then gave KSing $20 to buy a little coke for me, then spent $8 on a taxi to AIR7's last night, plus food... I am way over this week. I suppose I should keep it at $20 max if I go. That should get me about four drinks.

I don't know... I just feel this well of... frustration and I don't know where it comes from or how to get rid of it.

There's really nothing to write... I can't write a scream. (Although I AM painting Treblinka).

Swallowing Villans and Lovers at Postcrypt

Should I be angry at myself for being so helplessly predictable and needing him so much to want me and to need me... For not having the strength to spit anymore...

Or should I accept that I am pathetic and desperately lonely to the point where it drives me to villains disguised as lovers... He loves me until he cums... but is that enough to sustain me? God...

And I'm at Postcrypt with B now, against the yellow and black velvet shadows and he only makes me realize what this weakness all ever was to begin with. The more I live the more I realize how everyone is "only human," the less I wish to be human and the less I am hopeful of what I once dreamed of. In fact, I hardly remember such a dream against the constraints of the world in which its conceiver exists...

And I am supposed to go to the movies with E-the-R tonight.

And I want to cry...and have it back... have my misery back... have myself back... ANYTHING besides this empty plastic and smiling isolation that only makes me want to stone another human being to death.

And I am sitting here with B, but we are both so alienated... from ourselves and from each other. And the tears have gelled, but they just won't drop... As most things won't until they are torn out.

But how does one save oneself when justice is already being administered? How can one swallow "deserve" and truck oneself into believing that he meant it and that those moments of short breathes and the heat of sleep were what's real... And somehow, then it is always reconstructed as my will... And in some warped way, it always is...

And he is right. I do bring this on myself... I ask for all of it and so I must swallow it in more ways that one... Brace myself against my will and swallow...

And finally, when there is a story, I am left completely dumbfounded, inarticulate and drowning in the words that are left unexpressed.

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).

Feeling Betrayed

So, at least home is back... I ran away from school (for once!) on Thursday night. But, God! Do I feel betrayed by VJ! Even though I know that she doesn't know or understand anything that is going on, I at least expected her to have the faith in me that whatever she doesn't understand is just that... But for her to accuse me of faking problems for attention!

Maybe I am not "betrayed"... Maybe I never had her to begin with... But she had me!

And AIR7... Well, God, that's a whole other story. I really don't know what to think about him... Unless I just think what I thought six months ago... Fun without Faith.

I'm sitting outside Dodge right now (before "Modern") and my fingers are fucking frozen. It snowed madly last night when I came back from AIR7's and God, was it beautiful!

I really don't want to sign for this trip tomorrow and I wonder if I'm going to. Neither of them seemed so dead set on it, but they both seem to want to get it over with.

My mom thinks I should go to Law School and I'm starting to think that she's right-- that I'm great at arguing and remembering fact by fact, detail by detail what I need to in order to pull someone else apart. I just never thought about getting paid for it!

Ode to GoldenFinch

"You carried the weight of my soul on the corners of your smile."

AIR-7 Plays Mind Games

God, it's only a few weeks later and so much has happened. Obviously there is no point in writing it all down here.

AIR7 decided that after I went out drinking with GoldenFinch and called him drunk, that I was "too much to handle" and that was the end of our romance. I went berserk and cried for three days. Then I went up there for him to "hold me" and make me feel better and I ended up giving him a blow job, after which he rolled over and said that he felt bad about it because we are supposed to be just friends and he didn't want to be near me. I cried, felt like shit and got up to leave twice, only for him to tell me that he loves me, convince me to stay and then kick me out at 8:00 AM.

Then, the next day (after ice skating with GoldenFinch) I went to the movies with him and VJ and both of them had on an "aren't I charming and entertaining in public" act and I felt even more like shit. (That was Friday).

I slept all day on Saturday and then on Sunday I went home for C's baptism (which AIR7 was originally going to attend with me). Anyway, it was Superbowl Sunday (The Broncos won) and I went uptown to watch the end of the game with him and Scheisser. We had a great time and all was well again (except for the weird sexual tension).

AIR7 mentioned that he had called my mom to ask her what to wear to the christening. I mentioned it to her last night and she said the he had never called her. (And I believe her!) When I confronted him, he insisted that he had called, told me that she was lying and that everyone in my family lies to each other. I asked why she would do that and he said that may she was uncomfortable because she brought up "my drug and alcohol problem," asking him for advice. (Another lie!)

Then he said that he knew a lot of stuff that I didn't, about what my mom knows, what my sister knows, etc. When I said that was ridiculous, eh said that a lot happened when I was drunk that I didn't remember and that I told my mom stuff (also untrue).

When I asked him what he knew, he wouldn't tell me, and claimed that because I wouldn't tell him what I talked about with Dr. G today, he didn't have to tell me everything either. (Which once again is ridiculous!)

Why is he playing these mind games with me?!?!

Anyway, I called my mom and asked her about everything again and she insisted that she knows nothing else, that BigSis knows nothing else and that AIR7 is lying.

If that is the case, he is a fucking bastard and he has been manipulating me for months. When I pointed out how he lied to Brandi on New Year's, saying how she embarrassed him by coming onto Alan (when she didn't), he said "how would you know... you don't remember; you were passed out on the floor!"

"I remember you telling me that you lied to her when I was in Florida," I said.

He didn't like that.

Whatever... I have learned a lesson and Amac was right twice... She was right about Scheisser and she was right about AIR7.

Anyway, I was telling VJ the story.

"Why do you tell everyone you have a drug and alcohol problem?" she asked.

"What?" I asked her.

"Never mind," she said.

Ugh! That pisses me off so much. She thinks that I am pretending I have a problem to get attention. Well, she and AIR7 can both take their craziness and stay the fuck away from me.

By the way--things are good between me and my mom again. It will take a lot more than this to tear us apart!!!

Freshly Stitched and Afraid of ChoirMan

So, two days have passed and I don't feel any better. I am freshly stitched and so many promises have been broken that I can hardly find my reflection among the glimmering shards and fragments of glass. And I wonder if I will ever have another change... I wonder if I will ever have another chance...

And it makes me feel sick to know what has happened, and to know that he blames me even more for what happened on Monday night.

And my eyes burn and are so heavy and my head aches despairingly and I just want to close my eyes and have it all be over.

And I am thinking about Monday and how much I don't want to see him today!!!

****************************

Anyway, later... And sitting in rehearsal and beneath the sting of my eyes, wanting to die, die, die, die, die, die over and over again. I know that I don't deserve him and that this is really some kind of divine justice, but I can't look that justice in the eye and I can't bear what this is. (And VJ tells me that it is the typical burden of "being a woman in America" or something like that...).

And I don't want to look up, don't want to look up!!! So I will scribble for the rest of rehearsal if I have to.

To Do...

1.) Clean Room and Laundry
2.) Practice Ear Training (chords)
3.) Get dry cleaning
4.) Cable Box!!!
5.) Buy Books
6.) Email German history for syllabus
7.) Start to do HW readings
8.) Go to Patelson's and the makeup store

Swing Dance at Faculty House...

Perversions

I'm sorry, AIR7...

I'm drunk at the Dive Bar but I still care for you... You don't understand what loving me really means and I don't think that you ever will. You don't understand that love is pain because pain is the strongest emotion there is and that is what I give to you... that can be my only gift to you.

**********************

1:52 AM

Okay... So now I'm sitting on the steps outside Hogan waiting for KSing to get back. (I made her walk back up with E-the-R because I really just can't risk it). And I kissed ChoirMan... No! He kissed me. (I want to write it while my memory is clear and so I don't forget anything and let myself think that this was at all my fault!). And he kept kissing me...

I told him that I didn't want it... Or that if he wanted to kiss me, he should call me and make a plan that was not in front of everyone else. Because I know what they must be thinking and everyone hates me. But I know that he never will... I know he never will...

Anyway, I don't deserve AIR7 after this, and I don't deserve shit. I am not strong enough for any of this!!! And I know that I will see him tomorrow and pretend that everything was okay... I will pretend to ChoirMan that it's all okay, even though I want to die inside. And I will pretend to AIR7 that it's okay even though I want to die inside because I am not worth of him... It's like he loves me until he remembers who and what I am and then he doesn't love me at all... He remembers what a worthless piece of shit I am... a girl who can't even hold herself together...

And he plays that voice message over and over, hearing the pathetic betrayal in my voice and he is reminded of how disgusting I am and how pathetic I am and he is reminded of why any of this pain existed to begin with...

It is because I am shit and I love him and he doesn't care.

And it doesn't matter what I do' and it doesn't matter how hard I try' but I am shit and I have always been shit and I always will be shit. I am so cold here, sitting on the steps of Hogan... I think I will go inside and check my messages to get out of the cold for a while.

Purple Clouds

Trying... Trying... FAILING.

Tears in bed.
Pink eyes in purple clouds.


(To forgive is stupid? No. But to forget is really stupid.)

The Willow Tree

To CAFE 107 and wanting to forget, turn around, etc. Panic attack with KSing on 110th Street. Going into Rite Aid to buy razors. Fighting with them about going up (Ray's car). Cutting myself in the cab, smiling at John Jay, intercepted and "cleaned up" by AIR7. Slipping extra razor blades out of my pocket. Going home at 4:00 AM, cleaning up the situation with email and phone calls.

Collapse into sleep (in the hammock of the willow tree).

The Forced Promise

Okay, I am writing this here because AIR7 asked me to.. I must never, ever cut myself. Unless I go through this entire list first! People to call:

1.) Dr. G.
2.) BigSis
3.) GoldenFinch
4.) AIR7
5.) B
6.) KSing
7.) PhyicsGuy
8.) NiS
9.) Anxious
10.) Susanna
11.) My mom
12.) A help line
13.) Go to St Luke's Hospital physically

Anyway, I have to do this for AIR7. He says that he loves me and that it hurts him to think of when I harm myself.

It's weird how I write in my journal less and less... But it's because I'm sort of happy. I am still really scared because there's so much I'm unsure of with him. I think I lveo him... but at hte same time, he always controls circumstances and that scares me. It's like he knows what he wants and that's what's good for him and that's all that he cares about. Anyway... I am watchign my soaps, so I will write more later...

Between Two Worlds

On the LIRR on my way home... BigSis is leaving for Rome tomorrow and I am going to see Jol play the tuba in All County Band today. I didn't want to get up and leave his arms this morning. And now I have to go home and face that infernal power struggle between me and my mom... And I swallowed twice last night. I don't really know what we're getting into...

That Day at the Whitney...

Well, I'm still at AIR7's and it looks like I'm staying over again... My mom doesn't want me taking the train back too late..

The exhibit at the Whitney today was really great-- Duane Hanson. It was super-realism. Statues. Every piece had an air of melancholy and each figure was trapped in its station and life. Also, the people looking at them seemed to become art themselves and it allowed everyone to be seen in a different way.

I'm just so damned exhausted that I can't even really express what I mean...

That Night on the Carpet

Well, once again I am writing in the absolute blackness of night, only this time it is more like early morning (around 7:00 AM) and I am with AIR7. Things are getting stranger and stranger and stranger. He still says that he loves me but I wonder if love is really need. (And this whole room smells of sex). I guess I'd rather not analyze what is going on. (Is this pen running out? I can't see in the darkness, but it feels that way). And five times is enough to even wear me out, although AIR7 is definitely asleep and I'm still not the slightest bit tired. I suppose I will pay for it tomorrow...

It sucks that I have to go home tomorrow and be reminded of everything...

Well, maybe I should try to sleep at least three hours before the morning. AIR7 and I are going to the Whitney with his Aunt Rochelle tomorrow...

Florida Nightscape

I am writing in the pitch blackness, trying to sleep here in Florida and I can't sleep at all. Ten million thoughts tumble through my head. I remember when ChoirMan told me that he buys his wife emeralds (the night at Carmine's when his daughter came and so did Contessa). Also, wanting to talk to B SO badly... God, how I miss him! I wonder if he's thinking of me at all... Remember the last night I saw him and I said that I might come back a blond? I really meant it.

Which leads me to the question-- what color should I make my hair and how can I make a drastic change?

There is so much that has happened in the past week. I'm scared of AIR7 too. I mean, I know that he said he's the one that loves me, but why do I feel like it's my heart that's vulnerable? And how will I ever translate any of this into a novel? I want a STORY. A small plot an not this crazy broad one.

(This is not a dream my friend and it will never end. This one is the nightmare that goes on!)

Waving the red flag...

(I'll live inside you forever.)

Write about fat... nobody would read it, but you would be brilliant. Trapped. Trapped in your own body.

April sat in the room... rocking back and forth... She didn't know how she got there, but somehow this room had always been hers and she loved it because it was hers and nobody could take it away from her, but she could never leave.

Storms

Still in bed, and with a stiff neck. BigSis is in the shower. Today we are going to lunch, the flea market, home for rest, dinner, movies or the mall. What a life!

Remember when "Haven Avenue" was really a "haven?" Now it is part of the insanity and I have only escaped it here, although he follows me in my mind and in my dreams.

Last night there was a terribly violent thunderstorm that woke me and BigSis up. Electric lightening brightened the room and flashed and screamed and the thunder roared.

But tomorrow that will be a week ago and my breast is stills scarred.

BigSis is coming out of the shower in a minute and it will be my turn to go in...

**********************

Later, and sitting outside. I wonder if he is thinking of me...

New Year's Fallout

So, in Florida now and life goes on. Spent the day going to brunch, the mall to see Stepmom, and now back at the house at 10:00 PM. I'm just glad that I got out of New York after New Year's Eve. God, that night was an absolute disaster. BigSis knows everything. She saw everything. But at least it's out and we talked it though. Things will be fine with her.

As for AIR7, well, that's the letter I am sending, so I guess the best thing is to just forget all about it for now, although I don't know if I'll be able to. I wonder if my mom is right and if he set up that situation with Brandi on purpose, even if it's on some subconscious level.

God, I have a really stiff neck! I need B at a time like this!

I am still exhausted form that night though. (God, I can't stop thinking about him!). Why does it change everything that he told me that...? BigSis is talking to Bro-in-Law on the phone right now. I wish I could call him but I can't and I shouldn't want to.

Life is so different without being at school. I am going to stop with the cutting. I think that's what scares him the most. (By the way-- note to tell him about the perky waitress that called me "hon" and was our age).

Well, I have to force myself to forget him and work on myself. I can't though... Six more days until I see him again.