2000-08-12

ok time to be smart and witty. my elbow hurts, and when i walk or just stand up, my left hip socket tells me that something is Wrong. and my one eye is Still strained.<--(see previous entries) Strange, isn't it. I have an abcess in my gums that i learned about on the last day of high school (which was also the last day i went to the dentist). I still haven't done anything about that since. My back is just at the beginning of chronic problems. My nose is eternally riddled with black-heads. I sliced two of my fingers on the right hand trying to pry out a piece of something which turned out to be glass from the sole of my shoe last nite while walking drunkenly home. My hair is receding, balding at the age of 24.

Im a fashion nitemare. i wear the same clothes that i bought for my freshman year of college. The one and only big clothes buying spree for me, 20 bucks in the allentown thrift shop. Everything else that i wear is a gift that some soul who realized that i needed help decided to be a benefactor for.

I hang with a guy who thinks may be able to sleep with me, because it's too hard to hang out with girls. they intimidate the little mouse that is me.

my dad tells me i should get insurance, because 'remember that time when a little splinter from treated lumber incapacitated him for months and he had to have a needle drip-drain solution hooked up to his arm every day, to reduce the fever'. Ya never know just how precarious your life hangs in the balance untill that day comes when . . .

when what? you realize you wasted it all. sitting in a corner hoping? making resolutions about your love life, over and over again? reading all the books. watching all the talk shows. late nite escapism from Conan becomes the highlight of the day? what's going on here???!!!

Nothing's perfect. its what we make of it. life is. headaches and belches, mistakes and moments of pure love. Times come along when you feel so good that you wonder why it is that you ever felt low. Those good moments aren't what life is about, though. they aren't what we should be aimed at. They're just things we make stories about. things we remember. Life is more about remembering, i think. sitting on a porch, swinging ; swatting at flies. elvis pressley is on the phonograph.

'Good' times are boring. they fall flat. how can you predict them? label them? if i start hyping up how good a movie was, or a commercial, or a song: you may well look at it and be bored, and wonder why it is i was so excited by it. Goodness is useless to talk about. Maybe not useless, but difficult, at any rate.

i went out to see lisa, and people from her roomates' boyfriends' work. it always seems to work that way, with them. Crowds of strangers form at bars, and we may never see each other again, but for that one night of relating. its the 'curse of new york city' says tom, a friend of mine. so you do what you can acting yourself and have a good time. and maybe you'll meet someone so damn interesting that you'll decide its worth it to swap numbers. and then a month later you'll get enough control over your squirmish nerves to call her (or him). "Hi, remember me?..."

so last night was kind of like this, a moment when i got comfortable drinking all this crazy cheap beer, then walking home alone and sad, after some annoyingly familiar mood- swings started kicking in. (that's when i stepped on the piece of finger-slicing glass)

Gee, i almost forgot i was like that . . .