Not sure where to begin. Could be with Cleopatra’s Needle or dancing
on the blood-dimmed tide. I always shed
a little tear at strip clubs. Or it
could be of one wishing to sit before the beast at the very end of things or
maybe just that one is heading in that direction. Yes, felt shaky yesterday morning and this
morning; evil surging through my veins. I
don’t understand desire anymore. Or happiness. Ah, the little star. Sweetest sin.
Little star…the most…but also the most…. It all happened so fast (doesn’t it always
go that way?). Pretenses dropped and
numbers thrown out – numbers and symbols have power you see – and then it all
seemed lost. And how is it possible…after
so many moments how is it possible that it was really so easy? Across so many miles and years and so much
sinning. Everything is illusory. I need those illusions. I desperately cling to them. This is the first death. At a loss over the past couple days. The Frenchman is indicating exactly where I’ll
go of course.
There is no true connection anymore. I realize I no longer relate to anyone. I felt a few moments of happiness earlier but
I have no idea if it was genuine or not.
How to tell? But like a drug it’s
calling me back. Everything digital. And of course how much is going to be stored
up in preparation. I am a deeply selfish
person, an awful person. I’m lost and
just wandering through this strange city and trying desperately and failing
completely to work out my kinks. I am so
utterly fascinated by self destruction. Avarice. Hanging.
The recognition was lovely. And then
a quick flash of ridiculous jealousy. I mean
absolutely nothing. A worthless individual.
It was so recent when I realized the great and grave
importance of maintaining the façade. Identities
are not only malleable, the concept of the “true” identity is increasingly
irrelevant. And yet here I find…something
so genuinely sweet, lovely. How did this
happen? My vision starts to blur and I realize
nothing makes much sense anymore. I’ve
been away from the party for too long. Feeling
utterly awful and lost is the only thing that makes sense to me time and again.
I can’t get anything done with….
So then dizzying lust mixed with…I don’t know, was
it real happiness, maybe, and then a shocking connection, how could this be
real but there had to be some genuine feeling there somewhere, what does any of
this even mean and then it was all drowned by cheap whiskey. Amazing the control that fabrics have over
me. genuine nervousness. How could he be talking to…. Again, the power and importance of
symbols. What does she actually
mean? Lust and destruction and a
healer. Desire. How are these combined histories
melding. And boy, do I suddenly have
money to burn. Ah, and then being
granted so many options. I am so
painfully obvious, eh. A clear
mark. A willing mark. What does it matter? And of course…how is any of this
possible? My life doesn’t actually seem
real at this point. There’s too much…I don’t
know the word. I need someone to put it
all into perspective. Pink and
black. The pink one and the black one…or
only the black. All together it’s
fine. Easy mark. But so sweet.
The eyes have it. I am no longer
able to bond with anyone. At least I have
my drink. Barely held together by my
pills and my drink.
Not a bother, the opposite, helps a lot. Is that so wrong. Can’t we just put the cards on the table
(need to play baccarat more). Can it be
so wrong to be blatantly honest like this.
How could I be mingling with this iconography. There it is; the symbols, iconography,
representations. Much more important
than anything “genuine”. Nothing genuine
exists. Surely it’s some type of
absinthe infused dream that I’m having. Commiserating
with this beautiful, this lovely iconography.
It’s not a bother. Hearing his
name…said so properly, that little exquisite bit of effort. At that moment…a dragon on his knees on the phone…familiar
to me and it was me. I don’t deserve the
sweetness. A little kiss. A full blissful minute devoted to….
Incredible, sweet and kind and lovely. But I feel so empty now. Control over me. offered various…. I am so empty and full of ugly sin. Am I able to write at all? Wearing the patterns today (no, that was
yesterday). I am so empty. Mother, forgive me.
I am an old failure.
Suicide is an act of murdering someone you hate. I drank too much coffee today. Wearing the patterns without…? Denier has control over me.
Now I just need to save it all up for the grand
arrival. Need to browse and use digital
innovation for fast delivery. Returning back
to the golden days. Still have it. Domino of course. Never used spirit gum. Thank you for the support. Identities are such slippery things. voyeuristic tendencies. Called him up and said I have to do this
because I am him and then I realized that I am him who said I am him.
The little star in the morning again. With me now always. Full control.
Utter dominance. You’re
beautiful. Yellow diamond high. be so careful please. How very affordable though. We are merging with technology. I love my descending.
I loved the movie Thunderball. I recently ordered the soundtrack. I also really love Jack Nicholson’s
Joker. And the song Wednesday Like a
River. I listen to it every Wednesday
and for the duration of that song I don’t want to kill myself. And Martika’s Kitchen. Man, that Martika album. I also love the movie Cosmopolis. Need to reread the book. or do I?
the more I learn the less I want to know. Love the Stooges album Fun House. Great summer album. Woke up with torturous thoughts. Somewhat blissful. Went to the grocery store. Bought some things. red faced.
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