any fun since last (seating chart already arranged, sitting backwards)?

 

Been thinking Christine lately.  Thirty six.  I forgot the right number.  Easy enough to find.  Dennis hopper in the American friend.  Sleepy now.  Liquor and melatonin last night.  Saddest one at the bar.  Which is fine. All have our part to play.  Stardom is the only thing that makes me happy anymore.  And sleep.  I love sleep but always over too soon.  Comforting the idea that this all ends some day.  Maybe just returning to nothing.  That would be fantastic.  Diamanda again. Few things make sense.  It’s all so banal.  Kim recently has been making a lot of sense.  Something caustic and ugly.  Wonder at that moment how loud will be the sound.  How much pain will there be.  It’s too late to feel anything.  Would it hurt to shoot yourself in the head?  Man, I need some coffee.  Incompletion frightens me.  After certain thresholds this is it, this is all that remains. How sad.  Not talking to anyone feels so good.  All disappointments.  Myself included of course.  All these days just kind of melt into one another.  Mina has me.  Waiting on confirmation from the most…star….  Old habits.  Some things never.  Obsessions outlives everything.  Driving on the freeway, can feel the hate in my muscles and the center of my head.  Mold.  All this imagery.  No value.  Everything I value is fake.  Money.  Good ol’ money.  Stereo melting made me laugh. Tried but gave up.  Watched a movie the other day with multiple castrations.  Seeing the same people every night.  Same sad people.  Deeply sad.  Me at the center of it all.  And now I drink more black coffee and my hands are shaking and I start to cry and I wish I would never have to see or talk to anyone.  Lemon kid.  Need lemon kid again and typewriters.  

can feel it all starting again.  comfort in the fact that it is all phases.  all temporary.  always possible to eliminate.  i recall martial arts and cutting up paper and a hat!  cold night.  maybe coming up on a year ago today.  how exquisite!  how perfect! i am empty.  but this could be the way.  of course, i think as my head goes light, how utterly proper.  may need to write water again.  O.  yes, it was such a perfect way last time.  visualizing  then choppin'.  forming the new.  no, extracting what was there all along.  it worked, it gloriously worked.  no need to be an asshole about it though.  just do it and move on with your worthless life.  

already as the poison was wearing off i knew the truth.  he always knows the truth but sometimes forgets it as things go numb.  no one really cares.  that's how it should be.  need to get that through your head, dumbass!  you are absolutely nothing.  may need to do this twice overall.  but that's okay.  i have enough words.  enough water.  a cowboy hat.  thoughts of comfort.  it's all pretend, that's the key.  absolutely nothing real about it.  soft avocado.  put it in words.  all i got.  

not too dissimilar to all this digital yearning.  moment passed after i desperately needed a double whiskey at 9:23 am.  what a fool i am.  little star.  the most.  so fucking tired lately.  hell, it's not brain surgery! oh wait, yes it is!!!  and now again, relating to the freak.  Sin.  dying in sweetest sin.  scrolling through.  so lovely.  seeking.  need to remove everything.  if i could just go back, scrub it all out, starting with myself.  to die in sweetest sin.  little death.  come quick then die.  

i recall comfort in the throes of deep horror, panic.  is that there is?  big hoops.  sacred geometry.  beer on the rocks.  apologies.  fucking up.  it's all fantasy.  words and water are the key.  then i can go about being a world class asshole in peace. 

apropos of nothing, i deeply deeply hate my cunt mother.  

everything we ever valued or cared about is all one monstrous demented gag.  it's all so fucking grotesque and pathetic the things we value and prioritize.  this limited time is all going in the shitter! 

 

Aside from water and words, a chain might be helpful. Paper.  Daily paper.  Trade routes under taxation!  Is paper the answer? 

Awful.  Went to an atm last night. Highlight of my life.  I’m the asshole.  I’m always the asshole.  Of course, I think as my head goes light, how utterly proper.  Sweetheart.  I am not.  I’m a piece of shit.  Awful hug.  Hugging feels awful.  Twirl.  Nothing makes sense.  All through the goggles.  Desire.  Travel to the other town.  Obliterate our identities.  Everything is about obliterating our identities.  Need paper.  Chain.  Daily paper.  Distillation.  Came back and there was red wine waiting for me.  dancing.  Meeting someone at midnight.  Finally realize there is no one left. Tee hee hahahahaha how dramatic and stupid I am.  I feel tired all the time.  too much whiskey, wine and zzzquil.  Oh well no big deal.  Been thinking about Christine lately.  No ideal spot for my departure.  Not true.  Right there in the darkened room.  Wouldn’t want anyone else to be around though.  Stop making such a fool of yourself.  You are nothing!  You need to disappear.  If I could snuff it all out, starting with myself.  I wish all memory of my existence could be erased.  Numbers are dwindling at least.  And I know through the advent of water that this can all go away.  But it will never last without paper.  Daily.  And then after a while they will forget.  Not entirely.  But almost.  And almost is enough.  Almost would be glorious. 

Need to drink more coffee. 

Gut hurt earlier but feels okay now.  looking at everything through the blur.  Tears.  Hate myself.  Worthless life.  One last roll of the dice.  Shooting myself in the head is such a glorious idea.  Just do it, right?  No one gives a shit.  It’s all rotting away. 

Need to rewatch phantom menace soon. 

 

Hope to meet you someday.  Little bit of unreality in the midst of all the fakery.  All the poison so we can spin and hug and say bullshit.  Need to be dead.  Obliterate identity.  I mean nothing.

 

Gonna cook some meat for dinner. 

Hugging feels so awful.  Do you need a hug?