what was
10/15/2003 05:57 a.m.

what was the end of it? no one quite remembers but somehow they all remember that something existed once before the end.

but what was the end? and what is it now, then? if something was before, and it ended, then what can be the now. if all that was was the thing that ended?

that is; now is non-existence; something that can never be understood. this is the opposite of now before it ended, when now was instantaneous and entire existence.

one day there will not be a now; the non-existence of non-existence; what will there be, then? metaphysics in the nth dimension...there will be what i will never speculate on.

poverty. wealth. nothing. it is life.

projectile bleeding
10/14/2003 08:16 p.m.

i'm in a public place, indeed. i just bled profusely (and proud of it) and now i'm continuing to bleed in the library and have a care package next to me that is blocking the walkway but what do i care? i have an oreo in mypocket and i'm talking to friends and reading good poetry. and having amusing conversations right and left. despite the rain it's been a lovely day. so maybe it isn't all about the weather. cara, my little cara, is coming along nicely. i still think she's dyslexic, but i hope i'm teaching her some mechanisms she can use, and at least making her feel better about herself. she's a good girl. i'm taking her to the book fair on thursday; maybe i'll get her a book.

and letters home, and letters away, and mountains planes and liquored-up coffee. it's all my life, plus more letters. letters and letters. and the pervasive smell of cat pee coming from this jacket i found that is now wet and now smelling better than ever.

i can't wait to get home and open my care package in my new super-single; and i can't wait to decorate my little living-room; and i'm happy though it's disgustingly tragic outside. why the hell am i so happy?

great.

delirious
10/06/2003 06:54 a.m.
i'm deliriously tired, tired, tired. ...god, okay; i'm leaving. i am leaving this life, leaving. i don't want to do this anymore, this thing. i'm surrounded by people i love deeply, but i can't stand their presence. and you can read this and think suicide, but you'd be mistaken. i love life but this life makes me feel like a cut-and-paste person, like i was arbitrarily glued onto this existence. i love them but i can't be with them anymore. and i can't do this. it drives me insane, and i want to be alive and not constantly pandering to some ridiculous disingenuous state of being. so happily i will withdraw and maybe this will make things more beautiful. maybe this will make me belong to the life i live, even if nothing else. i want to be in love with things with people who care about me. i can never tell, i don't know anymore who cares about me and when is a good time to speak up. i've never been good at that. maybe that's why i've been wanting to talk to ryan lately. he's one person who has always taken care of me unconditionally. who has held onto me and loved me without judgement. i don't know anymore who really cares besides him, and if he even cares anymore. because there are so many people i care so fiercely about, for whom i would run for miles and miles; and what does that mean to them, if anything? would they do the same for me? would i be able to manage this life without the hope of someone truly loving me? i can't understand; how can i tell what i mean, if anything, to another person, if i can't sense them with my self? i don't understand. i don't. i just want passion, care, love, understanding, all of it to come to me unlimited and full of creative energy and joy and sorrow and all of the rest of the fertile states of being.
I am currently Passionate
I am listening to my friends talk about genius

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eraser
09/28/2003 08:42 p.m.

i am slowly and passive-aggressively commencing my break-up with reality. this is a modification to what i announced last night to my dear friends. sitting on the roof of keep, drinking wine and talking art, talking poetry, talking creation, smoking cigarettes cause we forgot we'd already smoked cigarettes and we forgot they were bad for us. i told them i was breaking up with humanity. humanity and i are finished. but i'm modifying that to be a breakup with reality. if someone exists in that outside world, then there are possibilities of connections.

but, it's begun. i went to zero of two meetings today - the first, because i couldn't find it. but the second, i just sat here until it passed. i am remaining outside slowly and, as i said, passive-aggressively. there's too much unreality in reality. too much disgust and pain and ruin. i need something to touch me; not like this. i can't live in this world of other people, waiting for other people and needing other people. there has to be something different or my life will slowly collide with futility and i'll have done nothing to stop it.

and, mother of god,...i am waiting. i am waiting and i am waiting and i am waiting.

i shouldn't go to tank to study today, but i told her i would. shouldn't have done that. shouldn't go. but i will. ah, well. in my scarf, in my furry red sweater, in my disgusting emotional habiliments. in my redface of misplaced heat and why? i'm walking towards more mistakes, more mistakes every day.

and yet there's a peace here; i just have to find words for it. it's the peace of...i can wait, that's the peace. i can wait and i will; it's only that it's meanwhile me with myself torturing my brain for the right words to change the world and spin the earth in another direction, to hurtle off into a thousand solar systems and reach the place where time is instantaneous; and what good will that do, anyhow, but to continue sitting in this room with the clacking of a hundred thousand keys, all telling me things i can't understand, things that mean nothing to me but the same lunacy i've been telling myself?

and what do i not say here because someone might be reading it, and what do i say because someone might be reading it? and what's honest and what's not? i can't tell anymore. if ever i could. i just want to reach; i want this line in my chest making it bleed making it scraped bare and hollow to get some life back from where i'm sending all mine. i don't know why i write these words anymore than i know why i write all the billions of words i write in my life. i don't know what i expect anything to mean to anyone, and i don't certainly know if anything will ever mean anything to me in terms of my expectations of reality and my desire to erase it all. if i could take an eraser to my life i wouldn't.

samples
09/28/2003 07:41 p.m.

words i have written in the past 24 hours:

the bell tolls and the wind blows--how dramatic.

and nothing i'd imagined would contain this.

i care i care and fuck me what did i do?

i find what i was reaching for and it breaks, it breaks and i can't recover it, i can't salvage it alone.

the cat just came to me and crawled into my lap, onto my notebook, and told me that the world is beautiful.

but i shattered him for me, i shattered him for me.

i saw it twice--it was crushing, crushing. but i'm still here, on the porch, writing; and i'm wishing things were different.

so i'm going to go home feeling peaceful--and i'm not going to look anymore.

he has laid bare my longing, my ugliness, my love, my despair. and what am i, naked and without him by me?

i can wait that long. suddenly, i can wait a long time...

wall
09/27/2003 06:37 p.m.
i just don't see a point, i just don't fucking see any point. i - this life i'm living - the things i live against - this - i - all of it. it. i don't see a point. i don't see a point. i want to sit in my room and play guitar but then i don't want to do that at all i just want to huddle in a loving embrace of something metaphorical i don't know the reasons anymore that i used to give myself to live this way - and yet i come up against this wall irreversibly so that keeps me in it, and whether its a wall i put up myself whether its societal or psychological it's there and consequently i don't see a point at all. not anymore. except maybe one - to do nothing, to write poetry for myself, to make words bleed, to do nothing but. maybe.
I am listening to nothing

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pct/wanderlust
09/26/2003 04:09 p.m.
"I want to dwell in the places of my imagination...the west is so huge and limitless, and I want to see it with my own eyes." So Janine says - and this is true. This is her response to my endless dreaming and sending her letters and emails filled with the pacific crest trail and long hikes through backcountry america - monthlong hikes to nowhere and from nowhere and that mean everything and lately i'm not sure if i would ever come back; but i know i would, and i know i only go 'cause they sanction me to go and what's the world good for if people like me can't just leave it when they want and drop out of it and enter something else that's just as true if not moreso? i want this i want to leave with no sanctioning or permission except from myself i suppose give it time right now time is my obliviator and what else can i do but succumb to its incessant hungering and whiting-out of existences? when i was twelve i wanted to drop out of this but i didn't know there was somewhere to go so what i thought was "i'll just leave" and that would be it, i wanted to drop out of life without knowing there was another life to be had. when i was fifteen i read kerouac and felt that there must be a lie in it, that it was some sort of cruel trick because it was so beautiful and i knew the world had no beauty in it like that so there must be a trick in it somewhere. now i read kerouac and i read beautiful poetry again and i know there is another life somewhere despite what the people who used to be in my life believe. ryan tries to tell me to think about what i really want and yes, money is a concern, remember, and what will you do when you come back, what will you do out there with no organization, it's too scattered erica. and it's because he loves me he's my friend but god he doesn't believe in me any more than i believed in me and he doesn't doesn't absolutely doesn't believe in any world but the one he's seen and my god, what would i give to be able to change his eyes to that; but he can never leave like that, he never can because he has been taught to love the life he holds himself down with[this, too, shall pass, when all else fails]; and maybe he will be happy with that forever but i can't be, i need to know what the other life is like, to know that there's something worth living for and right now all i've found worth living for is the dream that something is worth living for so what happens when i learn? i never want to live another life but the one i live in now, where i dream and there are possibilities endlessly stretching onto the sunset and rising with the sun and winding around the beautiful confused fucked-up world. i want to know it all and everything to embrace me and i want to be embraced; i can't live without the touch of understanding and beauty and people are creatures of amazing wonder and love and why must they hurt each other, why not create your own world instead of trying to live in conflict with someone else's? we're poor, yes, but we can create our own world because the one the rich create is a cancer in our minds sometimes. i'm wrong  - it's the same as with ryan. i can create that other world but others they can't because they have been taught to love the life which holds them down, yes even when they're unhappy with it. but i can have whatever i want because i'm almsot not afraid, maybe all we're waiting on is janine and i to go out on the pct for a month and become strong.
I am currently Lovesick
I am listening to "you ain't seen nothin' yet"(b-b-b-baby...)

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grudgingly
09/26/2003 03:44 a.m.
i don't want to go home, i can never go home but i'll instead sit here in this library until it closes its doors with me outside; and i'll sit outside the library until daylight forces me to stand and resume life; and i'll continue with that rote not-quite-unbearableness until the world squeezes my soul out of itself and i run, run, i go. i will. i'll do it, one day, when this lump in my throat right now won't go away. why am i not saying this to someone, to someone i know will get it, will get everything and hold onto it with me? i'm going. i'm going to change it now. i'm going outside to write about how i don't want to write anymore. about how i want everything to change and THEN i can write again. maybe. or maybe i'm just going outside to write.
I am currently Strong
I am listening to eagles (classic rock internet radio)

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no.
09/24/2003 01:47 a.m.

wow. i'm still alive. how's that? i don't know. by that i mean i am the same person i was last night. that never happens. i'm the same person i was hours ago. this continuity is disarming, but beautiful. for months i have felt a sense of starting over, and of an impending ending. i'm amazed.

and what do i say to my life, to the questions i've been asked the situations i've been in and the confusion that dominates? too many questions, these days. i pose myself these impossible questions, minute after minute day after day; and the only answer to my life is to breathe, breathe, breathe. again.

ladies and gentlemen
09/22/2003 03:53 p.m.
and now, i am awake after i thought i would never sleep. i am in the library. again. i am melting from the inside out, which is ironic considering it's raining. i don't feel the urge to walk back to the coop in this, though i will, as always. where are the people i love? i haven't been able to find any since last night, save through pen and paper and a great distance away.
I am currently Blue
I am listening to as usual, computer noises.

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