12/15/00: Oh Well Whatever Nevermind
I don't even know what story to tell today. I was going to tell you the story of the untitled, which is an underground paper I did when I was in eighth grade. But that time felt so clearly defined, and now is so nebulous, I feel like that time is a million miles away.
It's not that I don't have anything to say. It's just that everything is in a big tangle like Christmas tree lights and I can't even find an end to work from.
I really think I could be handling it if I were employed, or if I weren't living with a lunatic, or if I weren't lost in the wilds of Queens, or if it weren't the shortest days of the year, or if that boy had just called like he said he would. I hate to be a whiner. I spent most of my life whining, I feel like I used up my allotment.
There's a Nirvana marathon on M2 right now. When I was 13 I felt like Nirvana music expressed my turbulence perfectly. It seems now like it would be better expressed by total silence. Or maybe I'll just sit down with Daphne and write a ditty. A ditty about how much I want to take over the world and set up headquarters on Santorini.
Don't worry about me, kids. I'm pretty tough. It's just what Douglas Adams calls "The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul." I'm trying.
.
.