I am...a New Yorker

[Previous entry: "Flirtng With Disaster"]

Sunday, October 28, 2001
Not Imagnng Thngs

To Netra on the telephone last night. We've been playng a game of nternational phone tag snce September 12th.

Bubbles that don't break. It's a special solution that hardens when it hits the air.

Daisies and wheat grass from Urban Outfitters, of all places. I always kill plants (I've destroyed the ones at work n a few, short months), but I thought tryng to make thngs grow and havng a bit of color n my little room would be a great thng just now.

Black photo corners, so I can fnally, properly fnish my black and white photo album from the trip. About time, it's only been 18 months. Hard to believe.

Not...a very cute rubber ducky bath mat, but only because it had to be dry-cleaned. It's gong to be too dirty too often to dry clean, that would really add up quickly.

French Twist, Boogie Nights (reaction shots to Dirk Diggler's dick!) I'm only as far as Dirk's first movie, the character is surprisngly vulnerable. I noticed n Rock Star that Mark Wahlberg has a really blank face, almost like the girl n Eyes Without a Face.

Me of my ex John, a waif-boy from Chicago. His other attributes were a genius-level IQ, a sensitive sprit and a lesbian best friend who taught him well. I've no idea why it didn't work out, but it certanly is the one that should have.

Cafe Au Lait and Chocolat, but I have not watched them yet.

I am...not crazy...there was an earthquake n New York City the other night.

What's next, locusts? For fuck's sake!

I can't take much more of this shit.

Why do I act surprised that I'm so tired all the time. Between all the weirdness and the freezng wnds, I'm just draned most of the time.

. . .

I am tryng to go on with my life, as trivial as that seems these past two months. I can't control my body's reaction, though. Whenever anythng goes wrong, no matter how I try to hide it, my body cannot be manipulated nto thnkng everythng's hunky-dory. I should be feelng great, snce I'm eatng more fruits and vegetables than I ever have n my life. Maybe I'm allergic to healthy food.

Just now, I can't hack the brisk, frigid autumn wnds. I'm still waitng for my wnter clothes from Dorothy, snce I screwed up and sent the money to her n haste, without properly addressng the envelope. All I have are a cotton jacket, a thn rancoat, and a beret that doesn't keep out much. The wnd gives me an earache. I should go up to 34th Street and buy some wnter gear.

Until then, I'd just as soon stay nside and watch movies, like on rany days. It's back under the red, flannel sheets for me

[Next entry: "Not Writng Much"]
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