I like bleak things.

I am so happy it is not sunny today. I think I would stay home if it was.

I fell asleep last night at 10. I was experiencing moderate - severe anxiety at school yesterday, for no apparent reason, so I was full of drugs. By the time I got home my body felt so exhausted.

People exhaust me. I am consistently disappointed. Whine blah blah. It's strange to see someone you once loved in a totally different light. I overestimate people a lot of the time.

My main goal over the past four years at my university has been to locate the most isolated areas. Yesterday I discovered floor five of the library. Sounds obvious, but I generally avoid the library because it is usually full of stupid people. I discovered that I can sit in the middle of an aisle for two hours surrounded by early 20th century French critical theory and see no one except a couple kissing 2 aisles down.

I am reading some Georges Bataille "essays" or selected writings at the moment.

One of the texts is called "The Solar Anus" and it is probably one of the best things I have read recently. Mind orgasm extraordinaire. I found an online version here, I recommend it. It's a short read, basically a poem. Bataille is one of my favourite writers, he is a combination of everything I love...heavily sexual (he also writes pornography), morbid, surrealist, borderline existentialist but rejected by the existentialists because he's too macabre and doesn't subscribe to the Icarian Complex, post-Marxist theorist...generally...awesome. And he loves the Marquis deSade and Nietzsche but is critical of their work. *Sigh of satisfaction*

I am contemplating skipping class again today because I feel really depressed.

"A man who finds himself among others is irritated because he does not know why he is not one of the others.
In bed next to a girl he loves, he forgets that he does not know why he is himself instead of the body he touches.
Without knowing it, he suffers from the mental darkness that keeps him from screaming that he himself is the girl who forgets his presence while shuddering in his arms.
They can very well try to find each other; they will never find anything but parodic images, and they will fall asleep as empty as mirrors."

"The sea continuously jerks off.
Solid elements, contained and brewed in water animated by erotic movement, shoot out in the form of flying fish.
The erection and the sun scandalize, in the same way as the cadaver and the darkness of cellars."

-Bataille

My new favourite way to spend Sunday's...get really stoned and watch silent films from the 20's.

90% of people prove to be full of bullshit. It's okay though, I don't hold grudges
Actually that's pretty much a lie
I think human beings delude themselves about pretty much everything

When I first read about post-structuralism and the notion that 'individuality' is a crock of bullshit perpetuated by modernist ideologies, the desperation I experienced was akin to the confusion I felt realizing that god was not even dead, but a complete fiction. The two most formative periods of my life are quintessential negations, so typical of my generation. The corresponding self-delusion...belief that these 'formative experiences' are unique or original in any way. This is laughable...or confusing, or frustrating. Don't we all want to believe it, though? Nothing we experience is really that important, our suffering is not new nor does it spring from new places or lead in new directions

Nothing I say is original
but that is okay

existentialist anti-heroes try too hard
I always identified with the dude from 'notes from underground'
his anxiety is extreme and pathetic and awkward but charming
I just wanted to make him a picnic lunch or something and sing songs in the park with no shoes on
we could eat popsicles and stuff

fuck 'men of action'

My weekend so far.

German expressionism.

Faulkner, Light In August.

Whiskey & wine.

Cute boys.

Demetri Martin, PERSON.
So clever, that boy. *sigh*

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
Night Man/Day Man = epic.

Battlestar Galactica

Man On Wire...

...is poetry. Watch it, yo.

Rhymeku.

Vincent Gallo is releasing another album, is starring in Francis Ford Coppola's "Tetro" and producing/directing/starring in another film. This makes me superbly happy. Je t'aime, my darling.

Omelette with goat's cheese, cheddar, red pepper & banana chocolate smoothie.

Boys smoking pot and playing guitar on their front porch.

Two cats grooming each other on a bright blue chest of drawers in someone's front yard.

Couple smoking and fighting in t-shirts on a park bench.

Portuguese men smoking cigars and whistling at me on the street.

How could I not cave and buy a pack of small regular smokes? I'm sure my lungs will forgive me my trespasses.

Happy spring.

Soundtrack of the morning:
Albatross -Fleetwood Mac
Some Velvet Morning - Slowdive
Muzzle of Bees - Wilco

It is snowing and -6 degrees. I don't want to leave my bed.

I dreamed I was beating someone. He/she will remain nameless. I hit them harder and harder and little pieces of their face were breaking off and they were laughing at me and their body was regenerating very rapidly; bits of skull would fall off and the wounds were quickly covered by a thin translucent layer of skin. All of a sudden I was beating one of my cats, and I broke her jaw open and she started crying and biting herself. I woke up absolutely horrified and weeping with my cat curled around my head, purring, licking my hair.

Question, or challenge.

Name some movies that have more than one central female character who share face-to-face conversation that is not primarily about men.

This question was asked in one my classes. I found it interesting. Let me know.

Projections of insecurity.

Are there men out there who actually like outspoken, blunt women? Initially, men like that I have a fire-y personality, which turns to passive, seething resentment when they realize I'm not some fucking character in an indie movie whose only purpose is to stir on their existential crisis and 'bring spontaneity into their life' or spur on some creative revolution as 'muse.' Barf. Yeah, I can be abrasive. Yeah, I can be brutally honest (oh, sorry, I mean a "FUCKING BITCH"). Fuck, I'm not a super person. I try really hard to be 'nice.' That's what people want, right? Sweet and nurturing, coming right the fuck up.

It doesn't help that I am incredibly awkward during the whole 'let's meet each others friends in an exciting social environment to further determine whether or not we are compatible' and accidentally get labeled a 'cold, snobby bitch.' Um, it's called social anxiety disorder/panic disorder, asshole. Notice the panic attacks. Aren't relationships about sex and not social performance? Why do all these lame social elements have to enter into the equation? The purpose of relationships is to fuck and provide 'love', but most relationships seem to provide little of either. I want more sex and more love.

I am not making generalizations about men. I love men. I have my issues with female relationships, too. But I've been ranting about women my whole life and making horrible, fear-based generalizations about them too.

I think I should start walking around with a demure smile pasted on my face and check the tone of my voice constantly so that I do not unintentionally intimidate someone. I'm not sure how to move my face when I confront strangers. What is street etiquette? Do you look down, to the side, zone out looking forward or make brief, potentially awkward eye contact? Do you make your face smile, and to what degree? Most of the time the faces I make feel entirely unnatural. I am incredibly self-conscious in public. Everyone is a stranger. I feel like a massive fucking fragile disappointment.

I saw Watchmen yesterday and thought it was mediocre. The movie version is unnecessary and adds nothing to the experience, except dumbing down shit for the portion of the audience with no patience to actually read the fucking thing. I think Alan Moore's curse worked.

I really want to get another cat and name him/her Bubastis (aka the name of Oxymandias' genetically-engineered super lynx!! Blue-coloured!!)

I really enjoy Adam Coates' music.

I really like Zachary German's face.

Spring has arrived, with rainy days, my favourite. I've been making jewelery, scouring Kensington market for vintage clothes, writing this useless post, editing old and new poems, fighting with ex-boyfriends...anything except writing the last paper on my list. I must work my ass off today so that I can attend the open participation poetry/music jam tonight. I want to be drunk and wet.

I quit smoking.

What do you want?

I want to...

spoon with Ian Curtis in bed and make him breakfast.
drink whiskey with Tom Waits in an empty bar.
dance with Elliott Smith in an empty parking lot.
nap peacefully with Nick Drake in a sunny field of grass.
swim with Jeff Buckley in a river and sing Led Zeppelin songs together.
have coffee with Leonard Cohen and take walks through deserted parks.

Whenever I am sad I read Beautiful Losers and listen to my favourite men.

I will be listening to this mix tonight. "Descent into Madness?"

!

hello, darling.

"What we call happiness arises from the fairly sudden satisfaction of pent-up needs. By its very nature it can be no more than an episodic phenomenon. Any prolongation of a situation desired by the pleasure principle produces only a feeling of lukewarm comfort; we are so constituted that we can gain intense pleasure only from the contrast, and only very little from the condition itself. Hence, our prospects of happiness are already restricted by our constitution"

"Yes, we shall not fall out of the world. We are in it once and for all."

I feel pathetic and lonely.

I miss a lot of people right now, even the ones who treated me badly.

Pat, it would be nice to talk to you. But I am too afraid to pick up my phone because you act like a completely different person. It scares me.

It is hard to fall out of love with people you dream about every night.

Spring, please.

It is so cold here that I am literally unwilling to get out of bed. I can't find my slippers and my feet and hands are always cold. I need to eat breakfast.

I have very little motivation to do anything. I am writing two take-home exams, (1) 2000-word essay, 1 seminar presentation and reading 3 books for school. I am lying in bed surrounded by sleeping cats and thick blankets.

I am thinking:
my relationship with this city has lasted longer than that with any man
it has been equally tumultuous.
my lover and all of his closest friends don't use their real names, only nicknames, I find this highly symbolic and relevant.
Coraline is no longer being screened in 3-D because the Jonas Brothers 3-D concert experience is now screening. This makes me want to kill someone, specifically, one of the Jonas Brothers, or Dane Cook. Coraline is a really super good movie. I had a huge smile plastered on my face the whole time.
I want to read more Neil Gaiman.
after reading a 4-page sex scene on the subway I felt aroused and found this utterly hilarious.
everyone is de-sexualized on the subway except for me in my little corner, staring at people and laughing at their ignorance like a lunatic
citrus toothpaste mixed with blood tastes like strawberry kool-aid, daiquiris;
something equally girly.
I would like to touch a body tonight
preferably yours.

Movies I have seen in the past week, ordered from most to least enjoyable.

Coraline
(an unpleasant, beautiful mushroom trip)
Changeling
(I was screaming at the screen the whole time, so infuriated)
Two Lovers
(I really want to fuck Joaquin Phoenix)
Leaving Las Vegas
(the most depressing movie I have seen in a long time)
The Big Sleep
(one of my favourites, caused me to fall in love with Bogart, Bacall and Hawks)
The Restless Moment
Revolutionary Road
Milk
The Reader
Body and Soul

New music that I have enjoyed this past week.

Alela Diane - To Be Still
(we are driving at dusk through forests and you stop the car, suddenly, so that we can take a nap)
Vetiver - Tight Knit
(I will go skinny-dipping with you in quiet rivers and we will make love in a canoe and have picnics and drink warm, summery wines on the shores of lakes and our bodies will be sore and light by the end of it)
Lotus Plaza - Floodlight Collective
(cities are hostile and damp and sweaty and we brush shoulders of boys on pavement who linger against skin seeking proximity and movement)
Wrugs - Braided Grass
(fuck me really hard for 8.5 minutes)