Saturday, January 15, 2005 // 1:29 AM

having crashed rj, i am just all the more confused. will you hang out with me, if i am still eventually miserable? not that i'd want to do that to you, but things just work out certain ways. this is like, some sort of gamble, what i am afraid of is the eventual end, the making of a decision.

not like i won't find a way to be miserable, around all circumstances. you're hopeless, or you like this, you can't deny either.

he said that the things i read are just so filthy. books on my Favourite Shelf include Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita, Hanif Kureishi's Intimacy, Milan Kundera's Unbearable Lightness of Being. the thing that kills me is the whole issue of tone, i'll read just about anything if it's told just right. don't even talk to me about dan brown. i realize that this can't be a coincidence, but sex and paraphanelia just fail to titilate me. it does, make me wonder, however, if some day we're all going to be so completely obsessed about it.

i cant wait to sleep in/watch american history x/go for yf. if you catch aviator and like and understand it, please let me know who you are. i love talking to people who have the same taste as i do.

and yes i swear, i would talk like that, all the time, if i thought for a minute that you would understand me.