November 3, 2002

Last night was such a wonderful night. It started sober, me dressed as a bloody vagina and Ken as my bloody tampon (we were going to a party themes "In bad taste"), and we went to the Knee Deep Shag concert. They were so great again. Now I've seen them three times (third time being the best because I got the chance to offend all of my fellow students). We danced, danced, danced. I couldn't look at the lead singer's eyes though... so afraid that I would look like a pathetic groupie in love.

Then we went and drank some Bacardi Limon, 6 shots... smoked a few cigarettes... then went to the party. I danced with the hottest (and unfortunately straight) girl on campus... and also with Nick Drake. Ok so, I didn't dance with the famous Nick Drake, but this one is so very lovely. I drank a kamikaze, a gross beer, and three jello shots. It was such a great party... and then I puked in the hallway, and more in the toilet, and later over the porch handrail. However, I felt great afterwards. I danced with Lauren and Kevin, dressed as Jack and Meg White. Kevin was so kissy-faced, but I didn't get any. I didn't want any. I let him hold my hand instead. Mainly I missed another boy.

But the party was so good! Other "In bad taste" costumes: pregnant nun, priest molesting a doll, a battered housewife, and the very cute gay couple dressed as Bert and Ernie.

Ok, we're gonna give this Day Log thing a shot then: What is this phenomenon of all downvotes that people give in here? I don't get it, saying someone's thoughts are bad or unqualified? Anyways...

Here I have a test slam poem that I wrote for Theory of Knowledge class. Please be kind, this is my first day log and my first slam exprience, heh. If there are any slam experts out there, could you please give me some feedback? I perform Friday, November 8, so send a message and here it goes:

Just try and imagine my voice inflections and tempo changes to your heart's desire:

A simple song
Sound of silence
evoking the eluding tounge,
that strikes my heart,
that feeds my soul,
that trembles within my estranged
viscera, normal thought,
tragic misery, that evanescent
feeling of loss, fleeting
moments of time, express
the mind, through
the rhyme, and all
the other bullshit that you find:

Then squeeze that lime, taste
that sour liquid,
trembling power, will it ever
lead to that final
Euphoria?

When it comes, will we cower, oppressed beyond galaxies,
Neutralize
Petrify
Emphasize
Purify
and for what?
The cliche constant jargon,
that monday morning bargain,
and far gone past
that life, that ambiguous
mess of fate.

Violent strife, continuation onto
The End, END,
End of those words,
End of that time,
End of the pain that
strikes my soul:
When.
Where.

Listen.

Listen for that sound of silence.
Listen for a simple song.

I'm so ANGRY. They told us it was probably just her sinuses and that it was operable, and then they tell us that it's cellular and there's no hope. And even if there were, it would have cost upwards in the amount of $1,000.

Animals are my friends and they are like people to me, and sometimes they're the only "people" that will listen to you.

I'm really just speechless because I didn't expect this to happen at all. This is the third year in a row I've lost someone in November...

update 4.00: we buried her in our yard, and the vets gave us her pawprint in concrete or something. I just got the bill, and it's costing us $1130 for all the medical bills. But they didn't DO anything!! They didn't help her.

Last year, I systematically destroyed every song I had ever written or recorded, lyrics and music. I thought it was a catharsis; I thought I needed to do that. Boy, was I wrong! I salvaged what I could weeks later... unfortunately it's only a poorly recorded techno song (my first creation) and a drum loop that I made. Most of those songs are now gone forever; most of those songs will never be heard by anyone; most of those songs... were never heard by anyone at all. They were a part of me, and now they are gone. Today I wrote a poem to reflect on that loss.

destruction of self
by means of hypocrisy
division of property
and erasure of original works

the beat might go on
but only for a while
for I put it on trial
it was sentenced to death

I killed a little piece of me
every time I pressed "delete"
calling it a catharsis
now I'm back with a vengeance

A song called "untitled"
completely unreplacable
though I've written dozens more

dealing with the linearity of life
through ignorance of strife
and carefully hidden pain

coping with emptiness
means losing myself
by emulating pieces
of a meaningless world.

Thanks for reading this. At some point, you just need to share it with the world, y'know?

Side note: this poem used to have another stanza on the end of it. It sucked. I took it out on December 27, 2002.

Yeah, I remember her saying
I'm already dead...
I'm already dead...
You're gonna get up and scream...
You're gonna get up and burn an X in your head...

As things fall apart and chaos seems to rise I enter into a phase of painful personal pleasure. It is hard to understand and hard to explain. There is no way to spear me as I swim upstream and invite the slings and arrows to come my way. I cannot be anyone other than who I am. I cannot change from the path I have chosen. There is no other way. Having read the blueprints I know when things must change and I know when they will change badly. I know ahead of time. I am always all too prepared. "This is the hardest thing you will ever do..."

Cold ass motherfucker
I am.
Can't be wounded
Can't be killed
As they told me when they cut through the wire
The whirlpool is a blur
The blue flame still burns
I know what it means
I know too much
I blur it all together
They still know how to strike me down
Cold ass motherfucker
I am.

Today is your birthday as much as it is mine. I don't remember the day I was born. I only remember the day that I died. Whales piss in the gulf stream right up the coast of Florida and up to Norway. They tell me it is too cold up there. I can't help you. I have no power here. I can't fly straight anymore but it only appears I don't know the directions. Burning down all four sides of the old barn. Rock on ancient queen. Live in the fire. Let it burn you. Look into the mirror of your own fears and stare them down. It is part of the way. Part of the only way...

We march.
I'm watching things disintegrate.
This is familiar territory.
I'd be at a loss
If I needed to know how to make things last.
I'm rolling with the waves inside me.
Cold ass motherfucker.
I am.

Another year older and another year further away from the life I used to know. I have to relive it in order to find out where I stumbled. Writing is my heroin. I need my fix. The point at which the map begins charting is still unknown. I measure everything and try it all on for size. There is more to a glass of water than just the water and the glass. This is more true that the love we abandon and recall incorrectly. Feel the sharp spike through your heart and twist the sword. You are beginning to feel it. You can't wander through life with a sense of vague dissatisfation when you reach this point. You know the source. You know the pain. I'm moving too fast and I'm mostly standing still. Too many left behind and my arms aren't long enough to reach you. I watch you burn. I've accepted this. I know that I am mad. I've accepted this as well but not in the way you think I have.

It has been too long
Since I felt the rapture
Riding west on dragon wings.
I have to ride.
I have to fly.
They are ready to cash out again.
I take the money and smile.
Cold ass motherfucker.
I am.

Today she told me she was leaving. Wonderful things always happen on the day I was born. I gave up that life long ago. It isn't my birthday anymore. Happy birthday to me. I spent it writing three chapters of my novel while she started packing her things without saying a word. She has nowhere to go. No one ever expects me to call their bluff. I'm running the bluff on both sides of the mirror. I've got about thirteen years left to live. I'm going to make the most of them. Still, I can't feel things the way you do. I'm always looking at them from the outside. Even when they are inside of me I'm on the outside looking in. I can heal you. I can help you. You'll run. You'll hide. It isn't what you think it is. It never was.

Subjective
Empathic
Cold ass
Motherfucker
I am.
Rock on.

Yes. I did steal the intro. Thanks.