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May 12th, 2002

There is too much light in this bar..

How I would love to have a drink right now. It's so profoundly rare that I have a pronounced thirst for alcohol. Usually when I'm very angry, not happy or sad, like I used to want it. I'm angry right now, and I'm not sure why. I would just like to have a pint of guinness beer, or any other good beer, or a shot of whiskey, or even a shot of that piss rumplemintz that Alex drinks which burns the mouth like Listerine. I shoot Wild Turkey, I drink Guinness (or if they don't have it, another stout.) I would love to get pished, to get angry drunk, and get into a fight. I don't like being in fights, but that's mostly out of the fear of getting damaged and arrested. I actually think that fights are very cathartic and masculating. If society had the constant and immediate fear of an ass-whipping leering behind every snide remark, there'd be a great many less assholes about.

I'd love to get drunk right now and meet one. One good thing about Alex, is he knows where to find assholes. One bad thing about Alex is that he is one. Trade-off. He's the only cunt that'll call me up to go drinking. He called several times on thursday, but I didn't answer because I knew I couldn't go for studying and I didn't want to get into a discussion on it. I should call him up first thing next friday, when exams are over. "Right-o, I'll meetcha at the Bar at 8. I'm buying."

Who the hell will I be drinking with in Galveston? Maybe I won't drink there. Maybe I'll be going home too often and drinking retro. Maybe I won't drink at all up there. I hope not. I don't drink alone in my apartment, and I've got a small bar there. But I've been meaning to get out more, get social. I'll start going to some of the decent bars (assuming there are any on the island). I went to one on my interview at UTMB and it was some 'irish' bar. (ed. note: Real Irish Bars do not play top 40 on the muzak.)

Aeh. I've got cramps in my belly. It hurts. Damn you pave, I will see your dessicated carcass strewn down the road like so much tattered and eroded tumbleweed!!

I've got to get up at 6:30 to go to Mother's day breakfast w/ Mr. Jimmy and my mom and grandmother. Jesus crist in a fucking handbasket. Bad food on a sick stomach on a Sunday with 4 hours of fake-smile cramping and small-talk tension headaches.

Has anybody ever heard 'Wammo'? He's a spoken-word artist, made one album in 93 and does work with Al Jourgenson with Lard now, I hear. Excellent album he did. I hate spoken word, but my friend Levi and I know it word for word, and I insist on it being played every time we get sauced in large numbers.

God.. is it time to crash yet? ..

I've been jerking off too much, I think. I'm reticent to go to bed because I don't want to deal with it. I have crossed the line, I have repulsed myself. I'm making excuses. I have stepped into the 5th circle of Hell.

I'm not changing the subject, because you want me to.. I've not jerked off with the aid of printed media for some time now, I count it in the years. Good imagination? Naw, I've been sufficing on reruns for fortnights now. I don't meet anyone new, because I'm set in my ways: I don't work, I go to my classes and go straight home, and go to bars with friends to drink and leave. I'm obnoxious and loud, except when I'm inaudibly quiet and withdrawn. In other words, PORNO STAR! .. no, I'm sorry. that wasn't what I meant. I meant to say, TRAPPIST MONK! ... no, oh well. either way, I'm not a chick magnet. I used to be, to be sure. I looked much different and acted differently then, so I could understand. I'll take my unattractiveness to women (my unattractiveness seems unfortunately not to apply to men) as a blessing, an umbrella to shield me from distraction while I get my grad work done. I'll pick up the mad chix when I'm a Ph.D., yo.


Doss Cunt.

'fragments of a broken mind'

Me: So how's it going?

Nobody: . . .

Me: I'm bored.. wanna go get something to eat?

My wall: . . .

Me: I've got interesting things to talk about. Wanna acknowledge me?

My sister: Who are you talking to in there? Are you on the phone?

Me: *sigh*


~I got no legs~

I am skunk, smell me roar.

How many rate-limiting enzymes can you memorize in two days? Hope it's lots, If you want that B.S. Biochem.

When I was younger, I used to cut myself often with razor blades. It started out being something I did for fun, with one of my friends; but later I just kept doing it all the time, in usally the same area. Now I've got a lo of scars there, though they're really light and fading. It still feels good to do it, I know, though I've not done it in years.

I used to hang out in a large underground storm sewer on the east side of town, and I ruled over a small gang that was based on fighting, stealing, and explosives.

I'm not kidding about either of the above. It sounds rather taudry when I put it into words like that. I did a lot of stupid things as a youth. Sometimes I think I sink into deep rancorous cynicism as a crutch for my inability to cope with the passing of my childhood. Sometimes. But, to be fair, sometimes I sit mindlessly trying to think of what 4 into 24 is.

Music.

I had to go to the tax guy tonight to drop off some student aid forms for him to fill out and send in. On the way up I listened to a CD I'd not listened to in a while. Then on the way back I listened to this other old CD that I'd not really listened to in years. It made me have one of those non-specific flashbacks. So, I rode around my area of BR for a while listening to the music.

I enjoy that.

I own somewhere around 240-250 CDs, and I only ever listen to maybe 25-45 of them. It's a shame, really. All that money, being wasted.
I put up an advert for the Southern_furs list in Flayrah. I've only posted an ad for the site when I set it up, exactly one year, 4 days ago. I should advertise it a little more. Well, I do, b/c I include it in my sig when I post. Maybe we'll get more new muzzles in there, and ride this small wave of conversation.