I can't breathe with all this newness
It's shiny so shiny I'm overwhelmed
Oh God, what do I do? Do I venture out into the world become a good capitalist be a good person help many
many people? Do I sit on my ass sleep all day eat giant bowls of cereal until 2006 is upon us?
I don't know...I don't know...
Maybe if someone could help me. But I'm not religious and I have no one.
It's an impossible concept for all of us.
And the disease...and the numbers keep growing...I want to help but there isn't any way for me to do anything.
And we're not giving enough money or aid and we need to, oh God, we need to...
If it could happen there...could it happen here?
I've given up. It's over. I have about 15 days left of the second quarter, then my midyear grades hit all the
colleges and I can just. Stop.
I need to drop Physics before I explode. It's killing me. She's killing me. The only class I really still like
anymore is English, and I can just coast through that.
These are the natural creatures
That use their consents like they use
Their facial expressions,
Other people with that indifference
And smile because it's all so funny
It is funny
It is nice to have the gray recognize me
That is, on my showing days
.....Being sick can do weird things to your head...it either makes you deluded and strange, or it makes you see
everything so much clearer......
I gaze at the TV, longingly, numbingly. I watch the people on the screen act out their meaningless lives,
whether it be so-called reality TV or the scripted shows. I emote for them, I feel for them, and I know how stupid
it is, that I love them more than I love my family, my friends, my partner.
Here I go, to go look at the box again...be back soon?
"I'm sick, and you're not listening to anything I'm saying,"I retort.
"What I'm hearing is simple minded blame, blame of other people and a lack of self-motivation.-
"You couldn't pick more of a clichÃƒÆ'Ã‚Â© than Ãƒâ€šÃ¢â‚¬Ëœself-motivation'? If that was supposed to be a pep talk, it was a terrible
"You should concentrateÃƒâ€šÃ¢â‚¬â€at least pretend like you still care.-
"I don't care. I might as well just throw myself out of school and become a farmer.-
"You really are being dreadfully silly,"my former English teacher remarks.
But then he looks to his right. He looks to his left. He sees his compatriots strolling, talking, laughing. He can't
understand it, how they can interact so easily with each other. He feels like he's choking. He feels his hands
slipping away from the railing, stumbling away from the water.
He puts his hands to his face and he screams, a long, winding howl of utter alienation.
I step back from Edward Munch's Scream, and brush away tears.
Run circles round the house
Run miles down the road
Run sense into the ground
Feel passion in the darkness
Feel guilty in the daytime
Feel gone but not yet there
I guess you could make the valid argument that staying in an eroding relationship is foolhardy. I guess you
could say that one should extricate themselves as soon as possible, for everyone's sake. But when nothing
seems to be going wrong...when everything looks fine...it's impossible to admit to failure.
She'd never kept any present he'd given herÃƒâ€šÃ¢â‚¬â€hid them in his apartment or gave them to homeless people on
the street. She didn't deserve Josh, never had, never would. Six years and she'd counted every single day
Your friend Abe Lincoln.
God for President? Urgh...
I shall tell no one of this development, or I'll never hear the end of it.
Hey, out of everyone he hates, he told me he dislikes me least. That's something, right? Ha ha, I'm blushing
But I'm no romantic, at least not before nightfall. I know that for every philosopher of the Enlightenment, there
was a clergy member straining to hang him. I know that for every sophisticate poring over a Rembrandt, there
was a peasant starving somewhere without any knowledge of greater art. Another age might sound nice, but
we'd miss all our luxuries.
The bell rings. She closes her eyes in deep pain as every student at the surrounding tables darts for their books
and bags and rushes for the exit. Rushes to their next class. Within thirty seconds, the entire library is empty. In
the moment before the next group of people with a free period invades the library, she finishes the sentence
she's on and gets up, reluctantly.
I love you. I truly do. But I feel like I'm only in love with you out of a sense of duty, does that make sense? What
do I do with that? I can't find either of us in all this mess.
I've been having an affair with a married man since before we began going out. And when you came along, I
felt like you saved me, with your honesty and light. But I guess it's not light that I want anymore. It seems like I'm
destined for dark. I'm sorry.
Ultimately, I did not send that email.
She lay next to him
She was so asleep
So he took her fingers, each one
And he curled them into his palms
And what he did then was
he watched her solemnly
he breathed in her exhalations
he brought her hands to his heart.
When she woke up
He was in the shower
She groaned and rolled over
And spread her body across his imprint
And she felt his passing warmth
she pulled her blanket closer to her
she blinked through the morning light
she could still smell him covering her
She smiled, and closed her eyes.
I want that for myself.
He just laughed. "Shut up,"he said, and pushed me. I love him sometimes.
It was absolutely...heartrending.
How does she do it? I don't know. But I do know that I'm going to protect her from this asshole. And I feel very
hypocritical, but it's the right thing to do.
She's coming over my house. I was up until 3 am last night cleaning, straightening, fixing, putting everything
where it should go. That was not a good task to give to an obsessive like me...I think I spent around 10 minutes
fixing one shelf of books.
And then there was my room to think about. Put my intelligent books on my desk, so it looks like I'm smart. Put
some girly things out, so I look normal. Put my passport out, so I look worldly. Shit, this is so false.
To cherish and keep them
To embrace and make them sleep
The birds realize that everything dies in winter. They're smart. They leave what's dead.
Not us. We stick around, to wander the realm of the dead. We stick around, bundled in scarves and hats and
gloves, floating and not seeing through our cold eyes the little deaths of all that we pass.
Someone save us from this dread, before we perish too.
A children's garments are strewn
On the streets of Versailles
Where are these nameless children?
Where are their fearsome mothers?
The palace frowns pensively upon them
For 300 years, it has failed
To stop their cameras
And their progress
There are no words for Rome
Only streets, tall and narrow
Filled with shops, and people, and spirit
Only ruins, once mighty
Only churches, still mighty
And Michelangelo, who says it better
Than clever words ever could
I've been digging up old poemsÃƒâ€šÃ¢â‚¬â€these are from my intense vacation two summers ago.
I'm already planning to get a shirt, and merchandise, just so I can go around and flaunt my new band to the
world. And when people ask what my shirt's about, I can be like, all smug, "Oh, it's this sick band, the Old 97's.
I've been a fan foreverÃƒâ€šÃ¢â‚¬â€anyone who knows bluegrass and indie rock knows of these guys."
Fuck, I'm so superior.
And I see people jogging, and driving their cars, and trying to lead their lives, and I continue to laugh because
it's just so ridiculous, people continuing with everything when all around them is dead or dying.
Is that the human condition? Is it the tendency of our kind to self destruct? Whatever. It's very funny to me.
It's clearly love for him. She smiles down at the massive ring on her finger and tries not to think of the other.
Tries not to think of what could have been. Forces herself to admit that she's better off with Rhett, which is true.
With the other, there's only brooding and angst. With Rhett, she can finally be safe.
I asked him, barely holding back my laughter, if he was going to stop emailing me. I could hear him rolling his
"Don't get her pregnant,"I said, "or everything ends.-
January is my hopeless month
It washes against me
I build all year to stop it
The breaking down of January.
Yes it's cloying
When all the world is wrapped in death
Yes the very shroud of dying.
You've never been more close to it
So pushed, so small, so finite
Than in that month of January
To see the world as unsighted
January is my dying month
The fear that nothing stays
I am a scab on the face of the world
Not being reborn, I remain
They say a January determines how you spend the rest of the year. I'm glad that's never true for me, because
otherwise the world would be deluged in my angst and stupid sorrow.