the war in me, or, jack [in.the.box] comes out
��������� �����seven in the morning. just to see you smile // i'd do anything, that you wanted me to tim mcgraw. vestiges of a whirlingly drunken night, but not on my part.[you.re a sad drunk // you get depressed when you.re drunk // you and alcohol are not good together // you shouldn.t drink // yeah well at least we.ll always have a DD ]
was half-way through good will hunting, too, which alternately irritated me and enthralled me. have a list of things to do today - in a few hours. the process of reinvention continues.
i am thinking about getting an ear pierced. and it randomly cracks me up inside. just to do it and say i've done it. a list of things on white lined paper written with black permanent marker. behind me the sun is rising. the silence is thick, there is a chartable lack of movement in the room total. suffocating under a blanket of other's opinions. jason has announced his intent not to live with me next semester, which ends an era in my mind - announced is the wrong word. i feel like i've failed in some way, feel as though the attempt to share a living space effectively was really no good. although i think of all the times when it could have been the End of Me, and wasn't, because jason happened to be there.
there is a distinct mark of failure pervading, lately, too, as the stench and byproduct of stagnation ... the cattails that inevitably spring up wherever a pond is accumulating the green skin of algae - the feeling of nothing-accomplished, nothing-gained. i am improving myself through this odd sensation of self-hatred, making lists and exhaling to plow through a task or chore - it is forty-six degrees fahrenheit right now. blinking red - storm warning? flooding, perhaps, or rain & thunderstorm ... lightning would be nice, but it won't be warm enough.
i begin too many sentences with "i feel".
[i.ve never been surrounded by this many straight men before,] kristin says, and mark laughs, asa laughs, and i laugh.
on the tv is the movie "sister act" and soon enough we're all singing along.
outside, it continues to rain, and puddles form. the ghost of gene kelly fades in and out from streetlight to streetlight, swinging an open umbrella.