Thursday, February 24, 2005 // 11:44 PM

you're only hot because of the person that lives inside you, that is manifested in your songs and your prose. the physical you could waif for all i care.

give me money, give me space. i hate the feeling where i stand at the beginning of a string of fully occupied days. i cant see the next major slack off and that bothers me.

im completely antisocial and you will see it soon, i know.

and. and how you have been preoccupying me. i'm sorry, i'm self-obsessed, i can't stand the notion of not being completely at one with myself. it's a very zen thing, or you would call it something else. reduce me to the names of hormones and psycho/physiological conditions. i remember all the painpills that used to come along with your diagnoses. there is no need for therapy because therapy is aimed at some sort of perfect world. and. and you know human beings aren't going to comply with that.

and because i think of the word angst, i think about the word existentialism, and rock music. it's the only form of intellectualizing that doesn't stop me from feeling it still, ever so acutely. existentialism. sometimes i feel like the entire world of people and people have suddenly stopped in their tracks and swivelled their heads around from all directions to look at me. just look at me, not even a stare, not even particularly blank. but i feel you there and the strength of that attention smothers me, closes in. pocket claustrophobia, take me out of the situation.