ypsilanti's Diaryland Diary -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
there is no way for you to feel safe and stand on your own anymore. i don't know if i can do this anymore, y'all. it's almost five am on a monday morning, and i'm back here in williamsport pennsylvania, again and as always too much caffeine in my blood. a choice between making it here awake on the seven hour drive and maybe sleeping sometime in the next couple days. and hyper and eyes wide, dizzy like the first time you ever see the morning. i think these webpages have started to sick themselves. i love diaryland, you know? it is basically my favorite thing in the world. all the beautiful and amazingly special people who have touched my life just because they were checking out a computer and we both did diaryland pages... oh my god, i couldn't possibly count them all. seriously a phenomena of great cultural importance and such secret future magnitude. however, it really hurts. tonight i stumbled onto a friend's page who i never knew had one.. and wow, all the mean things that friend wrote about parts of our life.. things that i never heard about in the non-digital world, and things directed right at me, sometimes, without a doubt. why were they on a webpage and not sound in the air when they were frusturations? BECAUSE THIS IS A DISHONEST AND FAR TOO EASY FORMAT FOR EXPRESSING YOURSELF. i lie on this page constantly, just basically to remind myself that you can't really take it for more than a scrap of paper that might have at one point meant something, but is now floating in a dirty river. i will never forget how much it hurt, how deeply my heart sank to sit in the ann arbor public library and read about things that were happening far away.. things i should have been aware of before they were up in bright colors for anyone with a keyboard to see. (i remember that day so much cause scooter was like "Come on, man.. you gotta just smile for me. Give me one real smile and i'll be the happiest man alive!" and i couldn't do it.) my parents used to call shit like that a "Cop Out". i'm beginning to understand. i am as guilty as anyone else. even today, i wish that you would talk to me instead of infusing some strange vague poeticized scraps of possible inference on a website. we can work it out in the real world, but it wouldn't be as easy, i'm sure. yeah, this sucks. there are a ton of people who think i'm an idiot, and some of them read this page and use the things i write to furthur hurt my feelings. it sucks. it doesn't have to be so elaborate. seriously, look at me cross-eyed and you'll hurt my feelings. it doesn't require so much work. anyone can do it. my life is now one of total freedom. i have begun to live free. today i sold all my records and all my musical equiptment, even the guitar i just bought, and even all the records my friends i love so much made that i love so much. it had to happen in the name of all that is free. juan dreamed that i killed myself, and i really can't let that dream come true. i gave most of my clothes, books, stereo equiptment, etc to the salvation army. if you check out the drop box, some of it might still be there. i donated a ton of plazma and blood this morning, too. i always need less. there's no one there. there's no one here. a hundred words every time you blink your eyes, and the same no one is listening. thanks for all those songs i wasn't really singing. thanks for all those different kinds of nothing. let go. don't let go. talk to me. listen to me. sing me something sweet tell me the truth, but wake me up first. ******* listen to:joni mitchell "Blue". 4:31 a.m. - 6.4.01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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