my head is swimming with milton & free will, & oh gollygoshgoddamn i hate it right now. but i still love lilting-milton. and i am happy! happy to be going up to durham again, to be going back to grays on friday! to be actually excited and completely immersed in my work. i don't know, i don't know. this coming off the pills is hard work - dragging myself out sticky suffocating self-hood, i hate that, but oh well. it will get figured out i guess. we'll see we'll see. i hate this mediocrity. mediocracy. wer weiss.
'divine decadence, darling'
giggle, strip the paint off, socks too. rugby top, hats and all. what is it about having a little dirty-skinned, dirty-throated little cigarette? but patrick agrees, so i don't feel so very bad. it's nice to have someone to fall back against, and it isn't just falling back or settling, oh no, i guess. i need to sort that out. did it soak up all my anger like a sponge? i'm not sure. no compulsion to burn, or pierce, but difference - cut all my hair off, peroxide it. piercings or tattoos, or who has any idea? i need to get rid of it all.
i need to know what your apology was. grasp it back from wherever it, drunken, slid or disappeared. i don't really know why it matters. and other things. happy, comfortable? hungover? no, i don't think so. i can't wait til i can have a drink. just a little, ha!
streams & streams of consciousness, do i consider myself too special for only one? i don't know. i'm sorry about all this, i am. i think it is better that i write, that i get it all out, no matter how ridiculous. start remembering how to form things back into words, get back into the practice. stop pretending, start free-falling, shitscared but not dead to the world, it's so much better.

Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending:

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