Sopranos season finale was really good, Simpson's season finale was...not very funny or good in any way. SNL was good (Christopher Walken is always good).

...in case you wanted to know.

Well, when I ran out of cigarettes I decided to also do without the other chemicals I'm addicted to: caffiene and sugar...and food and electronic devices (including this one) - AKA "fast". Needless to say, I spent the entire 17 hours or so sleeping and really truly wanting to kill myself, I say "really truly" because usually when I'm "suicidal" I'm sitting around rationalizing the pros and cons of being alive, while this time there was really no question whether or not I wanted to die, it was how I wanted to die.

Anyway, it was in this state that I finally convinced my Mom to loan me money to buy cigarettes (no, I didn't mention wanting to kill myself, I was just very authentically passionate about my cause and visibly suffering). Of course, the condition of my borrowing money was that I had to be a little more gung-ho on finding a job.

So I picked up like 7 applications (all for gas station cashier jobs), all of which I'll be submitting tomorrow. Wish me luck (7-11 and BP expressed desparation!).

BTW: After going 17 hours without cigarettes, my sense of smell improved and I realized my car smells fucking rancid.

Well, (not counting the half smoke in my car), I am OFFICIALLY OUT OF CIGARETTES AND MONEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! For the rest of this entry I'll try to express how I feel about that.

fuck
fuck
fuck
fuck every god damned motherfucking thing on the fucking planet
kill me kill me kill me now fuck everything
god fucking damn this
i want to fucking die die die die die
motherfucker
fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
this is incomprehensible
i cannot fucking believe i don't have the ability to get fucking cigarettes
this is such fucking bullshit
OH MY FUCKING GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Please kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me
i'm going to freak out
really
freak the fuck out
i want to cry
...but i'm way too fucking...full of angst
...and frustration (x 1,000,000,000,000)
ugh
3 fucking dollars
i can't scrape together 3 fucking dollars
i can't get a job as a stockboy at Family Dollar
What's EVEN GODDAM WORSE THAN NOT BEING ABLE TO GET CIGARETTES?????
I STILL have to get a job, and since NO ONE WILL HIRE ME I have to get a job working in FAST FUCKING FOOD (which, like all human fucking beings, I've vowed never to go back to).
So while I'm trying not to freak out (or trying to overcome whatever it is that's keeping me from freaking out so I can do it with gusto) I get to continue my INFINITELY, UNIMAGINABLY, UN-FUCKING-FORSEEABLY degrading, dehumanizing, self-esteem raping "job" search.

...as for this weekend, I'm going to dress in pajamas, "fast" (no coffee, no smokes (of course), no soda (sugar), no food), not bathe, and wallow in misery...hopefully by Monday I'll develop the spine to finish off my weekend with a messy suicide. Oh, and no electronic devices!

FUCK YOU

Well, I scrounged together enough change to buy a pack of smokes and prolong the misery for a-whole-nother day!

Welcome to "The dustpan kazoo of personal journals"

Here are some lists.

Things I'm Deprived Of:
1. Community
2. Purpose
3. Identity
4. Money
5. Clothing
6. Hair cuts
7. Sex
8. Social interaction
9. Friends
10. Good coffee
11. Self-esteem / security

Things I've Learned That Everyone Probably Knows Already:
Social:
1. Don't talk about yourself (too much)
2. Don't ask personal questions
3. Social interaction on television is completely different than it is in reality (and vice versa)
Other:
1. Mild hunger causes bad moods
2. I'm not the center of the universe

Things I Do To Gross Excess:
1. Drink coffee (3 pots per day)
2. Eat ramen noodles / hot sauce (1 package per day soaked in hot sauce)
3. Smoke cigarettes (1 pack per day)
4. Read crap on the Internet (8 hours per day)
5. Listen to music
6. Mutter "shut up" every time I hear an animal make a noise
7. Think about the futility of it all
8. Feel sorry for myself
9. Ponder becoming a thief

Things I Don't Do That I Should:
1. Take care of my teeth
2. Shower daily

Things I suspect are true, and probably are:
1. I'll never be rich, or even comfortable. In fact, I'll probably be homeless most of my life.
2. I'm pretty unattractive and always will be.
3. My parents don't like me and never did.

Things I don't think are true, but probably are:
1. The dog across the street, the one that barks all the fucking time, will out-live me.
2. I'm retarded (I knew it!).

Things I'd do if I had the balls:
1. Kill myself!

Hey, I'm a really hip guy (and, as always, was the last to hear about it). Turns out, Self-Esteem is passe and Self-Loathing is IN, BABY!

Okay, off to smoke one of my last three cigarettes!

I guess I was wrong. The Lovely Leah saga is over (no response to my mea culpa). I guess I'm back to wallowing in the unique misery of being poor and unemployable in a capitalist economy.

BTW: I think (okay, it's obvious therefore I KNOW) Leah's journal, titled Spit On A Stranger, is named after a crappy Pavement song.

I am officially a L O S E R. I can't find a miserable shit fucking job for the life of me. No one who's seen my application has called me back. NO ONE (out of like 10). The only guy who called me back (the cleaning thing) had not seen my application, and didn't call after seeing it.

Of course, I STILL NEED MONEY. I have like THREE CIGARETTES. My car's still incessantly squeaking, my wardrobe's grossly insufficient, my hair's in desparate need of a trim. My Mom's been supplying me with gas/food/soda, and I had to borrow money to keep my fucking phone on. Which I'll pay back...

When I get a job? Where the fuck am I going to get a job? Family Dollar really needs a stock boy but NOT ME! Every gas station on the planet needs cashiers, and yet I DON'T GET CALLED BACK! I've applied to be an office cleaner, a cashier, a stockboy and a phone person (I'm rude enough) but I'm still out of work. So...

What do I do? Even when I eventually find a job at some fast food restaurant (not that they'll want me), I'll still be otherwise unemployable. I'll tell you what my only option is: S T E A L. Seriously, what other choice do I have? Today I relate to ghetto kids: Need money? Unemployable? Resort to crime!

Of course, I'm too lazy for crime, so I'll probably end up "stealing" from tax-payers in the form of welfare. Hey Society, FUCK YOU!

Neal Pollack sucks. He should not be published on McSweeney's.

NEW RULE: If the first time you visit a website and can't decipher what the fuck they're writing about, then it's probably a damn good site (see Suck.com / McSweeney's)

The Lovely Leah saga continues (horrible details to follow).

The following is a poorly written "Journal Entry" (for Brit Lit class). I'm posting it here because I think it sums up nicely (and quickly) the conclusions I've come to after much miserable contemplation (hey, the teacher liked it so you should too!):

For the past two weeks or so I've been looking for a job without the slightest taint of success. This, err... I mean reading "Hard Times" (specifically the parts about Stephen Blackpoole), has led me to "think" about the misery and degradation that is work, career, and life in general.

I think it's clear that most people, at best, find their jobs tolerable (if not mentally/emotionally crippling) and yet (if they work "full-time") they are forced to spend nearly half of their waking day, five days a week stuck in them just to get by (even if it's getting by with a Lexus).

Anyway, I'm finding it horribly difficult to cope with the fact that I have to suffer this for the next forty years or so, so I've been looking into coping methods other people allegedly use:

Distractions
"Distractions are the real American Dream, the real opiate of the masses! Luckily, they're omnipresent, otherwise the man would have no way of keeping us in our veal pens." - Heather Havrilesky, Suck.com, Filler 7/8/1998

Distractions like football, soap operas and current events might be a good way to "cope" with the futility of it all.

Ignoring the "Facts"
"The moment the possibilities I am considering are not rigorously involved by my action, I ought to disengage myself from them, because no God, no scheme, can adapt the world and its possibilities to my will. When Descartes said, 'Conquer yourself rather than the world,' he meant essentially the same thing." - Jean Paul Sartre, "Existentialism and Human Emotions"

"The intellectual who tries to escape from neurosis by escaping from facts is merely acting on principle that 'where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.'" -- Alan Watts, "The Wisdom of Insecurity"

Not focusing on things I have no power over seems to be a reasonable thing to do, assuming that feeling okay is more important than being constantly aware of the Awful Truth.

Pretending it's for a Higher Purpose
"ALL democratic theories, whether Socialistic or bourgeois, necessarily take in some concept of the dignity of labor. If the have-not were deprived of this delusion that his sufferings on the assembly-line are somehow laudable and agreeable to God, there would be little left in his ego save a belly-ache." -- H.L. Mencken, "Prejudices: Third Series" (Types of Men: Toiler)

This method is probably used more than it should be.

In conclusion, reality is a horrible horrible thing and should be ignored (or at least not taken very seriously).

When I was living in Daytona Beach, I met a girl named Averly and we hitchhiked to Key West together. I think that was the coolest two weeks of my life (I'm gonna write a script about it one of these fucking days). We spent the trip bumming change, getting drunk, sleeping on beaches and in bushes and just hanging out. Afterwards we stopped talking over something really stupid (I hooked her and her friend up with acid which I bought from another good friend which she - shortly after taking it - said was fake - of course it wasn't - knowing there was nothing I could do about it and later called to let me know it worked at which point I still held it against her and we never talked again), and then she allegedly moved to California or something.

So I've been thinking about her a lot lately (for the last year, really - did I mention I fell horribly in love with her in Key West?), and I've been trying to find a way to contact her despite not knowing her last name, needless to say without success. About three months ago, while cleaning out my closet, I happened to find a very old list of phone numbers I had typed up around that time which had her ex-boyfriend's parents' phone number (the guy who was Averly's boyfriend at the time of the trip to Key West, hee hee). So I called them, got his phone number, spent three months gathering up the nerve to call him, called him today, and he hooked up AVERLY'S LAST NAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (nice guy, when he was there with Averly we hung out on the boardwalk - he's the one who stole Joe's hat!).

Unfortunately, he didn't know how it was spelled but I at least have some idea of how it sounds when spoken.

I still can't find her phone number (she might not have a phone), but at least there's a chance in Hell I'll find it some day. I think my "craving" for Averly is sort of the empirical embodiment of my craving for Romantic Fulfillment (it's better than joining Sleary's circus).

I've been smoking cloves lately. They remind of the old days, when I had friends who had style and didn't give a fuck and the girls were cute and affectionate and nobody even thought about getting married.

Wouldn't it be funny if Weezer had a horrible back-up singer that ruined all of their songs?

Are crows bad omens? There's one living in my neighbor's back yard and it kinda creeps me out. I had this weird urge to talk to it, like I really thought that if it came close enough I could ask it some of "life's many questions"...and it would give me answers. But it didn't.

I have no fucking idea what to do for Mother's Day. I don't have any money! Additionally, any unselfish act would be blatantly phony.

Still no reply from The Lovely Leah.

When I write a book it's gonna be called "The Miserable Lives of Cats", but only a few pages will be about that, the rest of the book will be about whatever miscellaneous things I feel like writing about.

I THINK I MAYBE got a job today as a Stockboy! at Family Dollar (next to Big Lots, where I also applied). I asked for a job application but was given a "New Hire" packet (and told to fill it out and bring it back Monday), but she never said I was hired. Anyway, at least if I'm stocking shelves I won't be dealing with the trashy Family Dollar shoppers and their many filthy children.

Scary Valentine is an excellent electronic/gothy, mp3.com band. They've got good vocals (cool guy, lovely girl), they're melodic, not too soft, good beat/bass/drums and, last but not least, good lyrics.
My fave songs: Little Boys, Strange Bond, and F Yeah.

Okay. So I just sent the Lovely Leah a pointless e-mail regarding something so inane I refuse to mention it here. Well, okay, I just wrote to ask if she had tried "Heelys" (shoes with wheels on them, I just heard about them today) since they are popular in Texas (or so the local so-called newspaper said). Will this message be my redemption? Or will she not respond/ respond with disgust? I know I'm a total fucking loser/jackass for bothering/caring/trying but I'm really bored and NEED REDEMPTION!

BTW: It's pretty clear now I didn't get the office-cleaner job.

Well, the new "design" is up. The "blog" format makes it much easier to update. I don't have to spend 2 hours writing a fucking chapter on whatever non-events and mental illnesses I've suffered through, just a bite-sized "entry".

You know what I hate about [the band] Grandaddy? They make really great sad music but it's about stupid stuff (his first car, a pet robot). So when I'm depressed, just as I'm about to relate the music, I realize they're just mocking me.

Mistake-oriented bullet-point review of yesterday's job interview:

* I arrived 10 minutes early, so I decided to mill about the parking lot. Of course, not only did I run into the guy that was about to interview me, I think he actually stood holding the door open WATCHING ME STROLL AROUND AIMLESSLY for a few minutes until I noticed him.

* When I walked up to the door, he was holding it open. So rather than just walk through, I introduced myself, insisted that he shake my hand, and asked him how he was doing (all while he was holding open the door).

* I was interviewed with another applicant. But it wasn't really an interview, it was just the guy telling us about the job and asking an occasional Yes/No question. I was extremely unenthusiastic, avoided eye contact, and for the most part just stared at the table while he rambled on.

* At the end of the interview, as we were starting to leave, he mentioned that his son goes to OSU. I asked what his son was majoring in. He said Psychology. I Laughed.

* After the interview, rather than walk outside with the guy and the other applicant (who were walking close together), I walked faster and left them in the dust.

* At the point where I was like five feet in front of them, he said "thanks", so I turned around and said "thanks". Judging by his expression, he was talking to the other applicant, walking right next to him.

Anyway, I don't think I got the fucking job. So now I pretty much have to quit smoking.

Well. the interview's in an hour. Wish me luck. I'm gonna drink like 3 pots of coffee and spend the interview talking about living in a van down by the river.

I'm actually going to try to spend a $2 bill soon. What's worse: that it's the only money I have and I'm spending it on cigarettes or that I've been saving the damn thing for years (like a collector's item)? http://users.rcn.com/tcs.interport//

I have something like a job interview tomorrow. The job? Part-time Office-cleaner. Ugh. It's actually perfect for me, but the "stigma", isolation and lack of money is gonna suck.

Not speaking of money (ugh), I'm just about out of gas. So I get to beg my parents for money tomorrow (despite the fact they just paid $1600 for my dental work and $75 for my phone and have started reminding me that they don't have access to an "infinite supply" of money).

I sent an e-mail to The Lovely Leah in response to a "survey" (800x600 or not?), and included a link to the creepy Leah-themed wallpaper I made. Her response?
"Wow, you made my pictures look pretty."
I don't know what I expected, but I have to say... I was crushed (am crushed, this happened like two seconds ago). So anyway, the most stylish girl in the world just responded to my undying devotion with a sarcastic, one sentence slap in the face. Another reminder that my future doesn't look that bright, and that life is at best bland, degrading and infinitely disappointing. The Grandaddy song "Levitz" expresses this sentiment well (after the horrible intro).

I'm watching a Jerry Springer rerun, it's the first one I've seen in a long time (I've seen maybe a a half dozen in my life).
Here's a bullet-point summary in case you missed this one:
* guy is fucking his sister
* his fiancee is pissed about it
* fiancee and sister nearly duke it out
* his sister is missing lots of teeth
* fiancee says she was "faking it" last night (and proceeds to fake it on the show - "oh baby, oh yeah")
* guy/sister's mother is very upset
* fiancee is pregnant
* fiancee displays anger by taking flashing the audience...over and over
* audience loves every damn second of it...and so did I. Jerry Springer is still fucking awesome.

Gary Numan was in Cincinnati two weeks ago and I missed it! Damn it all to Hell!