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There Aint No Justice 129
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| There Ain't No Justice |
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| #129 |
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- Going Crazy in the Suburbs 14: -
"Honesty Will Butcher Me"
by Hairy
friday the 13th - i didn't even realize.
you're probably still reeling from the last psychopathic (or is that,
'psychpathetic'?) letter you got, but this one has gotten too big, i have to
get rid of it. sorry.
i was rather intoxicated when i wrote half of this, so you'll do well to
ignore most everything. i get all uninhibited when i'm drunk, and i don't seem
to make good decisions about what people should and shouldn't hear. so, i
often times tell the truth - and we all know this by now, don't we? - no one
wants to hear the truth.
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yesterday made me feel guilty, foolish, intolerably useless.. i don't blame
you for any of this, i blame my own personality disorders. i wish i could
explain.
sorry.
i'm lower today than i have been in quite some time. allow me to illustrate:
i'm too apathetic to drink.
it's like that game, the limbo? how low can you go..?
bye.
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i took a shower and stood there motionless for what felt like days.
i sat on the floor, dressing, for two hours.
i drew my legs up to my chest,
bent my head down onto my knees,
and forced back tears.
what's the matter with me? pms..?
i ate two tacos, sat in some parking lot in the rain and read another two
chapters of kerouac. by the time i was done, i felt completely pointless - i
wasn't sad anymore, i wasn't anything. back to normal, i guess, back to
unfeeling idleness.
aaaagh.
the ants are back, i'm bored again, listening to the score from "the crow"..
jesus christ, i whine too much. all i do is whine, whine, whine. aaaagh.
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drank half the remaining vodka - i've got but a night's worth left..
hello..
i called you some minutes or hours ago. i can't remember what was said -
something about a loan and a new car, '87.. i'm not on the shitlist, contrary
to popular belief..
i watched naked lunch again, this time intoxicated, and it made much more
sense. i would suggest it to anyone..
i think this letter was supposed to convey my feelings towards you, deep
soul-searching kinds of things, but i don't think that's going to come out
now.
let's begin as if it's the beginning:
jill called me in the middle of the deep afternoon sometime recently, perhaps
only two days ago - but who can really be sure? we tripped off to some movie,
as far as i know. i drove - the poor girl - feet aching and blistered from
those hard hard days at the office.. it's not easy, is it dear?
at any rate..
i drove her there, wherever it was, and sat two seats away. after two hours
or more she moved and sat next to me, whimpering soft furry noises until i
touched her. i put my arm around her and touched her left ear in some kind of
soft way, some kind of "i know you" way.. i soon got sick of torturing myself
and put an end to that.
we drove back to her house, i dropped her off. a kiss on the neck and a hug
in the car, "good bye" and nothing more.
mmm.
off to prague - so it goes, so it goes..
been thinking of you, but i suppose i'm not drunk enough to be honest.
i had a realization while driving jill home. this was, in fact, more of a
remembrance than a realization, but you can call it what you will. i felt it
brewing inside of me for a week or more, but i never gave it time or air,
never let it develop into anything more. in the car with her there, it just
erupted. it was something about.. what was it? how careers and relationships
and everything else are infantile, futile.. until you find your purpose, your
happiness.. it all comes down to that, yes? hobo or executive or somewhere in
between.. it doesn't matter what, you first need to know what you want - you
need something to work towards, some goal. even you have a goal, even if teli
finds massage shoddy (he's known several people, he says. you'll need three
jobs to make a living, he says.).
whatever: i have no goal. i have nothing. i sit here, i wait. i wait for
something, for anything. i long for relationships, love.. compassion or
purpose. what difference does it make? it's just idle time, time spent
waiting..
this was all explained to jill. she replied with silence, which is, i
suppose, all i can expect from anyone.
i'm glad i'm not on the shitlist. i don't know how i would have dealt with
that.. i know we're not close, but i somehow rely on you to always be there.
i guess this makes me another miserable loser fuck, another one of those
people who use you and throw you away - - i'm sorry. i don't mean it in that
way.
honesty is so fucking treacherous.
i need more to drink. be right back.
listening to "this mortal coil" is bad for you. avoid it.
listen - this letter was supposed to say something, supposed to make
something apparent and clear. i doubt it has. let me put this to rest for
myself:
i want to touch, hold, care for you like someone.. i don't know.. someone
special, someone close. i want to spend time, dead sweet bitter time with
you.. futile time when nothing is done, nothing is accomplished. i want to
touch your cheek as someone intimate would..
i want all of these things and more - i have for a long long time now. i
butchered these feelings because of chet & jill both. now they're both gone,
what am i to do? the thoughts creep out of the dark, they swirl around in my
childish mind..
reality & sanity, desperation & fear of the gamble - that's what stops me
from telling you all of these things. i guess i've made it all obvious with
the pages, the pages and pages..
honesty will butcher me.
listen, listen:
i was cold and short with you the other night, the night i came to visit &
kill your car. i'm sorry. i paced around the room before i left, i kept
asking myself, "should i see her?" sometimes, you know, sometimes.. sometimes
i want to torture myself..
i shouldn't have gone to see you. you fell asleep and i sat there - tangled
up in thoughts and feelings and millions of other things - wanting to kiss
your cheek, stroke your hair.. wanting to run a thousand miles away into the
night.. thinking about things that were best, for your sanity and mine,
thinking about this and that and the other thing.. so twisted up, at war with
myself..
what does it provoke, but nothing? lack of action, dead feelings, pointless
emotions.. feelings unacted upon..
"you won't get what you deserve
you are what you take."
jesus, jesus, what am i doing? these things are far and beyond what you
should be hearing - - i shouldn't clutter your life with this bullshit, this
worthlessness, this stale air..
i can't deny that i dream of you.
sorry. justin.
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teli apparently hates me. ah, well. it's about time, i guess. long overdue..
mm.
nothing to say.
not feeling very well lately, really sinking further and further inside
myself.
i should probably just go to the batcave and drink myself into oblivion, but
i'm being too realistic for that - i know i need money to eat with, all that
crap.
almost out of vodka, the liquor store's closed.. what to do? i guess i've got
another night's worth around here somewhere.
mm.
i haven't written soddy poetry in three months. i bet you're relieved.
cold & raining & the ceiling leaking.. this intolerable drip, drip,
dripping.. it's been leaking six months, a year..? who knows.. there's not
enough money to fix it.
hello, poor white trash.
i have to go to another unemployment interview this thursday and pretend i
care what they're saying. the extreme pleasure of it all..
i dream more lately, if you can call it that. it's all sexual bullshit - i
guess my needs aren't being satisfied. ah, well. fuck my needs.
i've been sitting in the tub for hours taking hot baths. i scrub myself to
death with this damned loofah sponge i bought. i'm so utterly worthless.
i've got to get out of here. i've got to do something. i'm falling apart,
these walls are becoming my coffin.
look at these sentences, "i've been.. i've got.. i have.. i haven't.. i
should.." why am i so self-centered?
nancy called the other day and tried to give her car to my answering machine.
"call me back, and you can have it," she told the thing. it didn't seem to
care - it never called. where's it going to go, anyway? where does it
belong..
that's what i'll do, i'll talk about myself indirectly. that always works. it
makes everything more interesting to read, no more "i this, i that"
nonsense..
i'm probably secretly concerned about people running away from me in droves -
close friends and everyone else - but you don't need to know about that. all
i do is complain, complain, complain to you. it makes me feel really
pathetic.
freezing to death.
bye.
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the phone refuses to ring.
i'm almost out of vodka. i don't know if i'm going to make it through the
night. i may have to indulge in a bit of whiskey to make due.
calgon, take me away.
i keep waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to come and take me away from all
this, all this despair and misery. when am i going to learn?
"there's nothing more dangerous
than a man with nothing to lose
nothing to live for
and nothing to prove"
i'm so alone.
i guess i have no one to blame but myself, but i still sit here repeating the
words. "i'm so alone."
nothing changes - nothing ever changes.
heather calls and calls, i ignore her. "i'm so alone" - and here i sit,
ignoring people. am i trying to be strong? am i trying to prove something..?
"how long? how long..?"
gnu, gnu, gnu.
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sunday morning - woke up and watched the cartoons. liquor store still isn't
open. nothing changes. dimwitted desperation and the absurd notion to buy a
tent & sleeping bag..
so, this is the time when everyone will leave me.
i could associate it to the waves in the ocean, a million different things..
it doesn't make it hurt any less. maybe they'll all come back, maybe they'll
be replaced by others - nothing takes the bitterness out of my mouth.
andy sings about the fire in the reptile house, what do i do? rephrase the
same bloated thoughts over, and over, and over..
have another cigarette.
maybe i should be looking on the "bright side".. maybe i should be working to
build my own place, whittle my own hole out, give myself a home.. what's the
point to it all? destroyed by time and wind and change, change, change,
change, change.. the more questions you answer, the more questions there are
to be asked. where does it go? deeper and deeper inside of yourself, farther
and farther down.. there's no way out.
am i supposed to play this game until natural death intervenes? somebody,
anybody.. pass me a clue.
---
there's no way to win.
---
it's several hours later. i'm off to new york to buy vodka, and whatever else
anyone tries to sell me. maybe i'll call you while i'm there..
"just let go.."
---
it's after midnight. i wandered around aimlessly in new york for six hours,
read, ate, read, wandered. liquor stores are apparently closed in new york on
sundays - very odd. the bars are all open, though.
i guess it didn't matter - i came home to a new bottle sitting on the desk.
thanks, mom.
i've got this notion to get work on a ship, any ship. anything. i've got to
leave this place..
i'm falling apart, you know? i can feel it more and more - i'm certainly not
getting any better.
having urges to just unplug the phone all together - - what's the point,
really?..
i need something to eat.
---
who cares, right? who cares.
---
it's monday afternoon now, 1:30ish. they're canceling my car insurance
because they forgot to send me a bill last month.
it's all going downhill.
lying awake in bed for hours, counting all the mistakes i've made. figuring
out which of my possessions are at teli's house, trying to decide how to get
them back. trying to find a way to feed myself with this tiny amount of
money.
how many "close friends" do i have? jill is off limits, you're just paper,
jim isn't really "close"..
YOU'D THINK I'D BE USED TO THIS BY NOW - - i spent the first ten years of my
life talking to myself, anyway..
i hope you're alright.
---
wandered around the mall, forgot to buy more cigarettes. nothing
accomplished. drank overpriced hot chocolate that tasted too "artistic".
i stood out in the parking lot staring blankly at the street for many many
minutes. there were these two children off to my right somewhere, laughing.
the one kept saying, "frankenstein! frankenstein!" and they'd both laugh. i
don't know what they were really talking about, but it certainly felt like it
was aimed at me. you probably know how this feels, yeah? you've got to know..
wrote this later over the soddy chocolate:
children dress up as monsters once a year. people reward them based on how
disturbing they look. i'm a monster every day, what am i going to be for
halloween?
i'll be happy - no one would ever recognize me.
"have you considered a career change," he asks me.
i'm not coping very well with reality, m. i'm drunk most every night, and
when i'm not i wish i were. i don't know what i'm running from, myself or all
of them, but there's nowhere to hide, and no way back.
it's getting late. i've got to get to the library before it closes. i have no
idea why, i'm just trying to give myself destinations.
i think the phone rang last night, but i don't really know. it seemed like it
happened two or three different times. it would ring, ring, ring, the
answering machine would get it, and whoever it was would hang up. i wasn't
drunk, so i'll have to assume this really happened. ah, shit, who knows?
maybe i was fantasizing.
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jill came by. we were sentimental, and i fell in love with her for the moment.
i hope everything works out for her.
teli called. "i'm not pissed at you anymore.. i.. uhh.. i think i need to be
alone.. umm.. whatever." goodbye, teli. goodbye like all the rest.
crawling around in my thoughts for days
it all falls apart
collapsing in on itself
again
and again
and again
pushed into insanity
stripped of spirit and feeling
beaten by shadowy figures
their eyes gleaming with hatred
hearts filled with bitterness
you are everything you despise
10/27/95
lying to myself
about misplaced dreams
counting the days
the hours
the emptiness
trying to fill the time
the voids
gaps in memories
vision blotted out by childishness
skin soft from lack of touch
it's all downhill
worthless
it's all
hopeless desires
who am i
where do i come from
what does it matter
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10/29/95 (virginia)
waiting for something to happen
all these faces that
i'll never know
whispers in the afternoon that
i'm never meant to hear
i butcher myself with thought
all seems well
sacrificing my sanity for
the whims of others
again
and again
all seems well
as i lay here failing
fading
again
happy halloween
---
taking care of jim in the dark
sleep turning away love and alcohol
the deep deep sleep
i tell them
plead with them
"please
don't hurt him
please
my soul not to hurt him"
alone in this dirty night
you and i
alone in this stupor
in love with you
laughing
crying
"please don't hurt him anymore"
in my intoxication
in my unreality
sleep
sleep
sleep away the dizziness
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broken
splintered
split
kneeling in fear
isolation
emptiness
corrosion
poison
death
sweating away reality
in broken churches
tell me
tell me
where is anyone
anyone
who cares?
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so much has happened, so little has happened.
the party turned out to be a big success. i started drinking at 5, the party
started at 10. i remember things pretty clearly up until 11:30, after that..
who knows?
i kicked a hole in chris' kitchen cabinet - i have no idea why. i just
clobbered the thing.
after the party i got amazingly depressed and ran away into the virginia
night. i found a payphone and left a twenty minute message on jill's
answering machine.
hmm.
i went to the limelight last night and saw "the jim rhodes circus sideshow."
what fun. i was severely drunk, and someone told me i was, "sexist and
shallow." i think i agreed with her, and she got pissed at me. i left.
i called jill's machine again and left another twenty minute message. i made
sure to insult her properly, that way i'd be sure she'd call me back at some
point.
i just got home now, it's two in the afternoon the next day. jill called and
left a thirty minute message on my machine, detailing the downfalls of her
life. surprise - jill's on cocaine now. she's cheating on what's his face,
chris, with some other guy named john. blah, blah, blah. no point, no
purpose. blah, blah, blah. doesn't know what to do with her life, the typical
things..
the drugs really bother me. i'm not really opposed to drugs you can learn
from, like lsd.. but jesus christ, cocaine is right up there with heroine and
crack.. the whole idea really disgusts me. i love her more than i can
probably express, but i'd rather just pretend she doesn't exist if she's
going to fork her life over to that kind of nonsense.
this is all pretty hilarious, coming from a semi-alcoholic.
well, i don't know. i don't drink that much, and i find things in it, buried
thoughts - - i don't know. i'm being a hypocrite, i guess. what else is
new..?
i told myself i'd start looking for a job today. i wonder if i will.
i wish i could solve all her problems somehow - i wish i could make her happy
again, how she was when i first met her.. i know i'm not responsible for the
way she is now, but i do feel like i've molded at least a little of it, made
her outlook on things at least a bit darker..
fuck.
i think i sucked a transsexual's dick last night at the limelight, but one
can never really be sure of these things. maybe i was fantasizing - i was
amazingly drunk.
mmm.
some albino boy kept offering me something called "k". i have no idea what
"k" is, but the albino boy tells me it's a lot like ecstasy. i told jill
about this in my drunken message, and she told my machine all about "k". jill
knows everything there is to know about drugs now, and it turns my stomach.
you understand this? of course you do, you must.
listening to the phone ringing for minutes
consoling myself
she's there
she'll answer
she cares
maybe you should have more to drink
young man
just trying to preserve sanity,
you know?
trying to hold on to something
anything
some sliver of meaning
some tattered, worn out remnant
i'll never learn,
i guess
constantly chasing these broken dreams
time pissed away into madness
absurdity
useless artistry
just pick up the phone
it doesn't matter what you say
say anything
say nothing
i just need to know you'll be there
this damned ring waiting here
motionless
silver from the past
aching for your fingers
too stupid to scream
too proud to cry
too tired to care
nothing can make me whole again
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once passionate romances crumble
pass away into loneliness
into reckless absurdity and
agonized dreams of times gone by
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what's happened? mm..
jill calls me every few days now. she wants me to move to new orleans with
her, for some reason, i don't know why. i doubt the whole thing is even
rooted in reality, but i told her that i'd move if it ever materialized. not
like i have any reason not to..
she's "broken up" with the cocaine dealer, because he wasn't responsible
enough with money. now she's stuck with two one-way, non-refundable,
non-transferable plane tickets to london. she knows what she's going to do
about as much as i know what she's going to do.
she's having cravings for cocaine now, which is a perfectly lovely thing to
have, i'm sure..
i didn't realize tkk was playing. mmm.
they raised my credit limit, so i have another $800 or so to jerk around
with. i love credit. i love the ability to buy something, and make "easy,
monthly payments" for the rest of my life.
listening to the eurythmics.
don't be alarmed, the spinner hasn't been pointing at you in awhile.
it's almost the middle of november and i've barely looked for a job. not even
half-assed looked.. something along the lines of 1/8th-ass looked..
i took the alcoholic quiz when i was sober, and i got 3 out of 12. the test
seems very stacked anyway, i think the only pertinent question is, "have you
tried to quit - but can't?" i took it again when i was a bit more inebriated,
and i managed to get 6 out of 12. i was either exaggerating, or being more
honest. in any event - i'm not an alcoholic. this isn't denial - i've got
nothing to deny. i mean, i admit to having weird bisexual fantasies, why
should i deny alcoholism..?
wondering what the future holds..
i've got $600 saved. i don't know how it happened. the checks keep arriving,
i keep cashing them.. i don't understand it. my standard of living has been
reduced to.. shit.. it's probably more on the "poor white trash" scale where
it should be.
moving seems amazingly easy. drive the car down there, sell it for $200 or
so. cancel the insurance. find a cheap room somewhere - maybe $400 a month.
get a shit job, anything. i can shine shoes and make $125 a week, and that's
all it would take - money for the room, money for food. lots of miserable
places in the french quarter, cheap rents.. i guess i'd have to figure in the
alcohol intake, but that's only $12 a week or so, on a bad week.
i've got to go, i've got to get out of here.
i've also got to go buy bottled water, cold medicine, and a 6-pack of sprite
to mix with the vodka. i'm due to go to some party at beth's house and drink
myself into oblivion.
"sweet dreams are made of these
who am i to disagree?"
hope things are well with you. maybe i'll come see you one of these days, if
i'm welcome.
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watching life skate around
like floating around in intoxication
help me
save me
some drunken orgy
it's absurdity
it's distraction
life on the skids
it's happy birthday
life in broken dreams
eyes that don't care
cry
cry
cry
into a thousand arms
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i remember saying that i was going to stop writing to you for awhile. oh,
well. i guess i was wrong.
jill is damned serious about getting to new orleans. so serious, in fact,
we're driving there thanksgiving-ish for two weeks. she wants to look around
and see if it's really what she wants, all that. if things work out and we
can find a cheap place, we'll end up moving. the reality of all this is too
much for me to deal with, so i'm just not. i'll just handle things as they
come along, i guess. i don't want to get myself all excited about finally
leaving, because then i'll end up getting crushed when it doesn't happen.
of course, this is not without its problems. for starters, this is the big
stepping-off point for me. once i move, i'm not a little kid anymore - i'm
some sort of adult with too much responsibility. the stress of this is
grueling, but there's just no way to escape it. it's not like i really want
to grow up, but i've got no choice in the matter.
the other part that's really playing hell with my mind is the fact that if
things go wrong, jill can still run home to mommy (or daddy in virginia). i
don't have this option - once i leave, the folks are off with great haste to
florida for the glorious retirement in the sun. quick & dirty: i've got
nowhere to run. this is going to make me grow up too damned fast, i can feel
it.
i have to keep reminding myself that i can't be romantic with jill. we had a
big discussion about this recently. she wanted to be sure that we were both
going to be calm and adult about things - things like, say, bringing people
over to wherever we're living for tea & biscuits & torrid sex. the idea is,
jill & i are supposed to be friends and nothing more - no attachment. it's
not supposed to sting, right? she's already admitted that it'd make her
incredibly jealous, and we all know how moody i get - - this is going to be a
stumbling block, i know that.
of course, all this happens right when i decide i'm going to look for a job.
i'm sitting here with fax numbers, addresses, a pile of resums.. the big
fear is that we're going to talk about new orleans for the next three months,
never do anything, and i'm suddenly going to run out of money and still be
unemployed. this really nags me. it's not so bad now, seeing how serious she
is, but the idea is still there.
it's all a big "what if?"
in other news, i've made wonderful strides towards "the meaning of life." i
don't know how it happened, but it all became amazingly clear. i'm going to
write it all down in some kind of flowchart and hang it on the wall, so i
don't forget.
here's the condensed version: you're born, you grow up. your life is
meaningless, and this ultimately leads to general depression. the problem, of
course, is finding meaning in a completely meaningless world, finding out who
you are. once you have that, everything else becomes more bearable. you find
yourself by trying different things, going different places - new experiences
open up new parts of yourself. you have to try not to be distracted - you
can't end up spending years chasing after idle romances or drugs or money or
whatever - - but you can't pick away at everything in your life and label it
"distraction," or you end up laying in bed for years, rolling around in
repetitious thoughts. it's all just the search to find yourself.
gee, i'm so deep.. blah.
i don't know, this is painfully obvious. i feel like an oaf typing it out.
whatever - it doesn't matter. this realization gives me some kind of hope, so
i can't brutalize it too much.
careers seem amazingly stupid now because of this - i'm more than willing to
work at a gas station for rent money - - anything, anything - - if it'll lead
me someplace deeper inside of myself, somewhere i've never been. ramble,
ramble, ramble.
it's impossible to find "the new orleans times-picayune" in new jersey, just
so you know. i wish i knew how much the "average" rent was. actually, i'd
just settle for knowing the minimum wage..
the drive down there is going to be preposterous. we're going to drive her
rattle-trap ford escort, and i'm going to get stuck driving the majority of
the way. 1300 miles, oh.. the joy.
well, it's going to be an adventure, all right. i'm looking forward to it -
to anything. i need a change.
hmmm.
i was sitting there on the couch earlier today with my mother (really!
imagine that!), and she was flipping through a magazine. she came to this ad
for smirnoff vodka, and she says, "oh, that's what i can put in your stocking
this year.." i wish i knew what she honestly thought about my religious use
of alcohol, but i'd never be able to get it out of her. maybe i'll sick jill
on her.
dead can dance keeps skipping.
if i'd never become unemployed, i'd never have been able to save enough money
to do this. how strange.
her car's going to die at least once during the trip. it's just a fact of
life. i wonder if she's aware of this.
nancy keeps sending me gifts, i don't know how to take it. she mailed me that
$5 bukowski short story today, "there's no business" - the one that crumb
illustrated. i don't know what she expects me to do. i feel sorry about the
whole mess, honestly, and i wish she'd get a grasp on the "it's over"
concept. it seems like it'd be better for her that way..
and that other tart, the one from new york - she keeps calling. she doesn't
leave messages anymore, but she calls twice a week. i guess she's waiting for
the one magical day when i'm going to answer my phone by mistake. she's going
to have one hell of a wait. i actually pasted together a new message for my
machine for her, made up of different soundbites from "jeopardy." it's alex
talking over the "final jeopardy" theme, saying things like, "welcome to the
wonderful world of 'call screening'," and "if you want to talk to me, you're
going to have to leave a message." the message is too damned long, though,
and i can't stand listening to it. it's a shame.
i went to a photobooth a few weeks ago and took pictures of myself. i think i
wrote something about this..? everyone took the pictures. i should have
mailed you one, that photo with my boot in it makes me cringe.
my god, i'm feeling literary today.
mm.
well, i think i've filled your life with enough drivel for now..
take care of yourself.
justin.
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