thoughts (fragments)

Fran.
For this releefe much thankes: 'Tis bitter cold,
13: And I am sicke at heart.










untitled, .littlegirlblue


in a little pouch in my car i have $300. a blue pen. a single condom. it's my self-destruct button. i'm uncomfortable with it there. it's like a smile in the dark as i drive home. it's my rum/vodka/weed/party/coke/hookers/fun/diediedieihateyou money. like i said, i'm uncomfortable with it there. sometimes i hear it snicker at me you don't have the balls. i think about this. maybe it's right. maybe i don't.
____it's important i give myself room to explode... if i need to. there's two ways it can go. ex/im(plode. i'm taking the latter course.
i turn the corner. home. get out Q. get out Q. get out Q. __get out Q.

(still nothing).

then i get out. air. fresh. exhale. safe. maybe.


*___*___*

___- you are! you're totally a social butterfly, you're everywhere. you talk to everyone.
___- ...
___- admit it.
___- i am.
___- done.
___- ___you going out tomorrow?
___- i don't know, you?
___- yeah. (i have to).
___- have to? why have to?
___- you either have a clique, or a girlboyfriend. if you have a clique, then you do that thing you do wit yo peeps at dat place you do it at. if you have a B, then you just chill wit dem. if you gots neither, then you better get your social butterfly wings on because you're not gonna get some peeps or a specialsomebody any other way.
___- ...
___- ...
___- that makes me sad.
___- it's the saddest thing.
___- doesn't it tire you out?
___ [i feel like i'm going to throw up]
___- doesn't it?
___- i feel like i'm going to throw up.
___- that good huh?
___- yeah. that good.


*___*___*

there's something in the air. ominous. i don't know i don't know. something's off. the rhythm of our communication is off. something like that maybe. i can't tell what's wrong. but it's there. in the start of Hamlet, like that. we're being circled by ghosts and creeps. i am gripping the steering wheel tighter when i drive - i don't know if that means anything or not.

i can't study. can't sit still. haven't been working out. don't trust the rain. all i do is talktalktalk my way through everyanything. laugh and charm. jokes, all jokes. here take this, from yesterday:

___- Doestoevsky? really?
___- whh, yeah, is that weird?
___- no no, not at all i love Notes from the Underground.
___- oh _ my _ god! you've read it?
___- dude, i've never seen someone stick it to Socrates like our good friend Fyodor.
___[laughs]
___- you're ccrazzy!
___[people keep saying this to me recently]
______and Africa, you've been to Africa you said right?
___- yeah.
___- me too! i travelled up the East coast.
___- did you live through a genocide?
___- what? no!
___- ok, then you haven't been to Africa.
___[she's shocked, but then laughs]
___- hey, it's not a true African experience unless you're on one side or the other of a massacre.
___- i can't even believe what you're saying right now! [she laughs as she says this] well someone in a village went missing while i was there, does that count?
___- no! this is Africa we're talking about. the bodycount has to be in the millions.
___- oh i get it, you watch a lot of South Park don't you?
___- wwwait. no, seriously, how'd you divine that?
___- your sense of humour. it's obvious.
___- i do actually.
___- Southpark and early Russian existentialism. i like your style.
___- when the French took it over it got soo pretentious ya know?, not like in the good ol' days.
___[she laughs, shaking her head]
___- who are YOU?
___[i wish i knew sweetheart. i wish i knew]

today the same (subsitute: desecrating graves and zombie movies for Africa- with Lenin and Chairman Mao thrown in for Fyodor). i'm trying to laugh it off. what's really happening here (whatever it is). the end of Donnie Darko, that's what i think it is, what with that plane disappearing and everything the other day, on CNN. it's the end of the universe, it must be. (catch that? that's the start of a joke-sequence).

there is a sadness developing. i think that's what it is. the best way to hide it is to laugh. to wear ties to school. to be a dandy. to be outrageous. to finish class and have dinner with a friend. coffee with another. tea with a third. drive around for a while. finally, yes, someone else. late night? spontaneous? let's get to-go and walk? suresuresure. don't want to go home. nothing wrong, it's just there's something waiting for me. not sure. it's in the car, snickering at me on the drive home. in my empty room. hidden inside the guts of my silent piano. the shadows. all that.


*___*___*

no one's really hung out with me in this room. i don't know why this upsets me, but it's starting to. it seems like that's what friends do. they hang atchyo crib. or you at theirs. my couch is soo comfortable. lying down, it can fit two. me, and the person in my arms. i have a few chairs. we could watch movies. i have a wonderful library, we could flip through William Blake: AN INTRODUCTION or BECKETT: the complete short stories or GQ from 2007. we could chit chat and scribble in our notebooks arguing over itunes. ('Q, no more Shostakovich, ok? we're all bummed out now, you happy?'). We could watch movies. huddle on the couch around my laptop. go carry the flatscreen from the living room into my room. hey, no, don't leave. you could all get in my bed, hug one another, spoon, whatever. i'll play piano for you. lullabies? those annoying little Mozart sonatas that run up and down the keyboard? Bach and his too serious harmonies. film music? the Amelie soundtrack. i don't mean to be presumptuous, but people always seemed to enjoy it in the past... if it'd please you i'm happy to. if you want.

(i want Martha.

mostly because she can sit on a couch on the opposite side of the room and i still feel loved. and i don't have to talk to her, and i'm tired of talking. acting. charming. performing. i'd like to sit, and eat my breakfast and be lost in my own thoughts, and for Mar to gesture it's time to leave with her chin, and me nod. and we walk down the terraces. like everyday could be friday brunch. always. just stuck on track 2005.

and in any case, Mar always liked to listen to me play.
and she has the smallest hands. which i found soothing.

oh baby. )


*___*___*

laugh until my head comes off.

dance you f*cker dance you f*cker (donchya dare donchya dare)

(radiohead always gets it.