parties, cheerleader beer, breaking up, slutting out, fear anxiety, snow, letters, wild dog

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january 13

1999
6:47 pm


Mister Punk Rock is majorly PMSing this week. Yesterday I made a poster for my vocabulary word "wily." It had a tornado with cops chasing it (Joe's idea). It's cool. Yesterday was also bowling. It was a lot of fun. Stacie & I beat the other team. It was very fair. Stacie likes: Luke, Jojo, Paul, Nate, Drew, & Jesse. & Mister Horseshit, of course. But today she told me she doesn't like Paul, that he's an asshole, and she only likes Jesse as a friend. I hate Paul so bad. I knew she loved Drew (Drew this, Drew that). Jesse surprised me, though.


Today I had finals in History, Speech, and Algebra. I got 100% on my history test! And my speech went well, and algebra, what can I say about algebra? Jesus, talk about PMS. Monday... I can't remember that far back. Oh yeah, after school, Bruce offered to help me with pornography. Then suddenly Joe decided it was time to go, so Bruce couldn't help me. Bruce thought he was being a jerkoff. Then he wouldn't even give me a ride home. Even Bruce cared about me than Joe. He felt badly that he couldn't help me, and he was even trying to find me a ride. On Tuesday at bowling, 80% of Joe's words to me were "shut up." Thanks, sweetheart. Today he was very sad to hear that Kemper was going on our team. He hates Kemper because "he's an asshole." Okay, sweetheart. PRICK? Yes. He will die. Just you wait. So let's see: Tomorrow is a half day at school. I am happy because I dislike school so very much. I want to go downtown. Maybe the whore will join me. But I'd better not ask Kemper if he wants to cumm, because Joe might never speak to me again. I need to get a new punk rock CD. Who knows, maybe I'll get a band I've never heard of. Now that would be punk rock. Actually, it would be more poser.


Brittany and I want to go to a hockey game so we can play in the elevator again.

2000

4:00 pm

Today was a stupid day. John wasn't in Biology, Elliot is no longer cool... nothing's exciting. This weekend should be fun, however. I have something to live for. Apparently Jake's having a party tomorrow night that Kari & I will most likely go to. Hopefully I'll be back into alcohol again. I'll die if I don't get into alcohol soon. Damnit! Britta hangs out with Nick and Remy. Fuck, Remy's so cute! And screw Nick, I don't like him. And I really don't like Britta and Rachel and I really really don't like Ivy. They can all suck my cock! Oh, I saw the new years photographs. Very cute, I am kissing Stacie, I am on top of Ben, my stomach is being shown off to the world, they're bad but they're really funny. Hahaha! Man, the millennium.

2002

My daddy was OOT all weekend. It was fun playing house with Kelly. I can't believe I don't get sick of him after spending this much time together. It's a miracle. Or I just love him. 

A regular weekend. Got drunk last night with Sam, Kelly, & Kari. Fun, fun. I'm thinking about going to The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. I guess it's a really great school. Kelly's applying to Columbia College in Chicago. I really want to be with him next year. I feel like we deserve to be together. I love him. I want him to get out of Boise because he's great and needs to do great things.

But then what if I'm not cut out to be a filmmaker? What then? And what if he can't design video games? I want nothing more than to be happy. And successful and to be doing what I want to do. I just don't know. I feel like everything's going to work out for the best, but... it probably won't end up how I currently hope it will. 

Oh, and Kelly took buds off his parents' plant! And we smoked them, and they got us stoned. Hell fucking yeah, Kelly's parents rule

2007

2:53 pm

Wow! Gee whix. Here’s how it went…

Night’s going on… get to Skylark, boy are there a whole lot of people there! Way too many, there’s barely any room to stand! Finally I gather up my friendliness and approach Jullian, trying to be careful not to block his cock. I ask him if he has anyone for me, so he reluctantly passes over Chris… could be… Oh, and speaking of Christmas, it’s that, too, so we all get in Jullian’s van and I put a finger to the side of my nose and up the chimney it goes. Snow-town. To some party where I eat cheese and tomatoes. Then on the way to the car, who’s walking down the street but Nate… happily enough we grab him and put him in the car with us… all the while he’s yelling, “no!” as he was just on his way home to call it a night… But then we’re at the infamous Continental… homegirl buys beer for all. I stand next to Nate. I kiss him on the corner of the mouth, he kisses back, a good one, with excitement for real. In engineer hat with cracked brim. Mustache. Drunken expression. He kisses me again on the couch. Hand on leg. I’m feeling good, excited. He invites me over. After the cab leaves us at Shakespeare, we stop to makeout three times. I swoon more and more after each… He’s showing me total & undeniable interest… as far as making out is concerned… it’s kind of a shock, and so sweet… I feel like I can slide to his house on all the moisture, I’m surprised I don’t slip in all the slick and fall on the walk! He holds my hand. We talk about swooning. We get there… stale, like Steve’s but with rubber trees. And we’re on the couch, I with a PBR which I set down to kiss more and more… he unhooks my 6th grade bra like a child-molesting pro…He’s smiling, I open my eyes and he’s grinning and sighing all over the place, rubbing his hands all over my body, touching me everywhere… it feels amazing… and then he’s off to the bathroom, and I don’t know what to do but there’s the familiar choke grabbing for me, and I know I have to fight it, I can ruin everything right about now just by crying about… what, oh, why isn’t he that guy… No, fuck that guy! Put on that red stocking cap, the one sitting on the couch next to you and chug your pbr!! And Nate’s out of the bathroom, and I feel inclined to tell him a little bit about the boat I’m on… he says we’re in similar vessels, though his has been out to sea for a few months longer… So because of this we won’t have sex (though we both want to, which each of us stresses in italics or with parentheses again and again)… and then more making out and he touching me, we’re aroused and erect and I run my fingers across his beneath jeans and there are sighs all around… And he’s grinning and grinning and I love it… With The Knife on in the background… and then into bed where we undress, mostly… I ask him to take his underwear off… he’s thick everywhere, rounded and tattooed… on the chest, family crests… blue eyes… rubber plants… I’m on top of him and my breasts are in his mouth… something I haven’t felt for while… All that passion! And then the “oh god”s and the pushing to the side of the underwear and then it almost… almost until of course I Cry Out no and we agree… we can’t. Because if we do he’ll be aloof & distant in the morning out of fear and awkwardness; he needs to be alone. And I, even if the sex means nothing or little, even if he turns out badly and I have distaste… still, I’ll invent him up like I always do. And I’m not exaggerating. Always is the right word in this unavoidable circumstance. I ask him to promise to be nice and not to ignore me in the morning… I have a couple of brief dreams… I sleep across his arm; he’s on his back and snoring. In a dream I place a tissue box behind his head to elevate him. I ask him if it’s comfortable and he says no. The second one happens while he’s in the bathroom… and he comes out wearing a lot of clothing, especially a black leather jacket and black leather boots… and I’m still nearly naked, and I ask what he’s doing… he says it’s time to take me home… no breakfast. Then he gets back in bed and I put my arm over him and there’s no response… and I say to myself, oh yeah, it’s the next morning and this person isn’t your boyfriend and he doesn’t want you to be here in his bed. So I ask if he wants my arm on him in such a way and he says, “oh, it doesn’t matter.” And indifference has won yet again! I refrain… but keep talking anyway. I am always trying to understand & justify situations with words when no words are possible. It’s more like I try to manipulate situations with my words… trying to understand while simultaneously taking into account logic and emotional overload. So I’m talking, talking, talking about what’s going on… he’s fidgeting, wants to get out of bed. Tells me he’s awkward in the morning. I keep trying to make it anything but indifferent; no, I’m trying to make it great & awesome instead of worthless. He tells me it’s the least awkward he’s been the next morning… Finally we’re up and dressed and all he has for breakfast is a small grapefruit so he drives me home and doesn’t want coffee or tea or food or even to come inside my lonely apartment or wait for me to open the door. But he’s not bad, he’s an incredibly sweet & wonderful guy. We don’t know one another very well. His indifference is caused by many, many factors about which I know very little. I want to be indifferent… but how can I when all I want to do is feel? Everything, every which way and all the time, too? And then I’m home and frank calls and I find out I have even less money than I thought, and no, I don’t care about what you have to do, what movies you’re working on, how busy you are and I don’t want to hear your stupid cool indifferent alright voice. Fuck your voice and your movies, your motivations, your feigned or invented happinesses. And mostly, fuck you, frank, because yes, it’s hate, true & true again… I absolutely do. And maybe when another year and a half passes I’ll not feel anything but indifference towards you. How does one begin to go about it? All I want right now… I’d rather feel absolutely nothing than all the bullshit garbage stewing and rotting away in my pathetic little brain. If only I could really throw myself in the drink! At last!

The steps to indifference… I want to make friends, but I don’t want to go out to do it… no spending money, making out/fucking is completely out of the question… And I’m not going to talk about my plans with people like David and charlie… maybe I really am going to New York… but why would I tell you about it until I’m long gone? Good riddance & hate you now and for awhile in the future. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

sleep

sex

kiss

feeling

eat

blue

sweet

words

interest

hand

body

lonely

Finally

understand

nearly apartment

future

comfortable

excited money

fear

mouth

trees arm

family

cheese

breakfast brain

touching awkward incredibly

sea emotional

thick dreams

nose corner

Snow excitement similar naked

surprised slip garbage

Wow slide fight underwear

finger Drunken shock beneath indifference logic

approach familiar chest response situations

leg ruin knife undress leather simultaneously

happily expression child choke inclined background promise

skylark concerned bra distaste ignore worthless pathetic

Night’s cracked makeout total undeniable rubber grinning grabbing boat distant snoring justify

friendliness cock continental swoon moisture stale sighing parentheses rounded plants breasts passion aloof invent circumstance tissue refrain manipulate overload fidgeting riddance

reluctantly chimney tomatoes infamous engineer brim Mustache invites Shakespeare slick unhooks molesting vessels italics aroused erect tattooed crests exaggerating elevate grapefruit motivations feigned happinesses stewing rotting

A lighthearted carefree episode or experience – 13 January

Good morning, bright new world! My stomach is eating itself right now. I like to play mean tricks, create some unjust foofaraw for the little muncher. MMMM gobble it up, you little beast! That's right! Bring on the stimulations, the heart quickening to ghastly excess!! Diary, these previous imprecations I've hoped for (and those for which I've prayed even), these ridiculous little wishes and tiny little deaths I've been wanting... No, I can see now that the greatest is Mortality... "eternal mortality"... A curse, indeed!!! But, I don't hate or love anyone enough to wish him that. If I could throw a curse at you, I wouldn't. I'm trying to grow up here, but it's hard. This eddy in which I swim round and round again... no, it's not misperception, or lack of reality because reality bites small circles into my left arm. My so-called life leaves me clueless and lacking words or descriptors. I stay here and say to you, "Good luck! I hope you never die, but I hope you don't live forever!" And that is the nicest and most genuine thing I have to offer you. also, reality and emotions bring about the same incarnadine hue in my cheeks and heart... can't have one without the other! A cheek and a heart both express the same life-flow of Eternity! And justification for all things felt, for all things lost & gained! And I know that behind every bush is a trap or a wildflower. Wowie zowie. Put that one in your pipe and tell me whence it blows.

 I know that my mind is somewhat malleable, tractable, but I also know that I know everything. So there!!!!!!!! Try to bend me, I'll just break cuzz it's freazin cold outside and I know the toes still on my foot are numb yet, as the hour before now I was riding the bike out of doors. But this is all filler, bromide for the tops of our irreverent little stews. Sit down and fill both our plates, please (my hands are full; too busy derogating from my malaise with tools and magical herbs). An opportune moment for impassiveness! Impassivity, even, or impassibility, even more rightly so!! Reticent and lacking even the mostest slightestest pule emanating from my youthful mouth. 

I'm sorry for this turgid idyll... Can this be a romantic interlude? Precisely? But realistically, I'll be the only person who ever reads this bullshit.

2012

I couldn’t write yesterday on account of a hangover, the kind that comes on slowly and forces one, in slippers, to creep outside to the front yard and regurgitate in the leaves. There is something subtly comforting in the vomiting outside, rather than in the toilet. The toilet, I guess, is a depressing place, especially at my house. There is so much mold in the bathroom, and I think, is this why we are constantly hacking, unable to breathe?

It was the night before, then. A waste of a night. Drunk and with KC and Brittany and then Britta, and then at the bar, finally, where there was Kyle with his depressing long hair. It isn’t worth a damn.

There are always the in & out moments, but I know, Ian won’t quit the drink. He came home last night well before the close of the bar, and we had a conversation, laid in bed. I was so happy. All I can ask is that he does that, that he doesn’t return shitfaced everytime. Who wants shitfaced everytime? I can’t.