All the best things come out of being sincere. Something small, out of being sincere, goes a long way. It was a good day to be awake, alive, think things over, and not feel sluggish at all. I did not feel sluggish at all, and did not have to go in. New Year’s perfectly broke up the week – being on a Thursday – and even though I have to go in tomorrow, hey, it’s Friday.
For the first time in a while I’m in a pretty good mood. This owes partially to having gone out into the neighborhood today, and walking to a friend’s house to hang out. It made living here in this place less ordinary. And I’ve really been craving that. He asked me what I did on New Year’s Eve; I answered, nothing really. His sounded fantastic, explaining that they annually light a bon fire in the backyard, write on pieces of paper bad habits they want to get rid of, and throw them in.
This confirmed for me how human beings are so deeply attached to symbolism. Think about that for a bit, all the symbols flying around in the world, from way back when. I will report on this more heftily at a later time.
. . .
Ideas to rock a crowd. Don’t run yourself into the ground. My main idea tonight is that I have to write a private journal, along with a public journal. I have to keep writing on different levels and different styles. I don’t want to be a good writer, I want to be a great writer. Simply do not limit yourself to Live Journal entries. That is just plain silliness and a common mistake, I’m sure.
Who is the who? Who are you talking to? Someone inside myself, perhaps. And I’m trying to write faster, if you haven’t already noticed. Write as if I am talking. I can come along later and edit as I like.
Bees wax. You have to mind yours. What is up for thursday? I have the entire day to write before I go and rock the crowd. I don’t know if this is wise. Where have I come from? DC, the hells, the temples, the jobs, writing big and small, ego filled, tail between legs, etc.
Zac across the hall received some kind of eviction notice because Bank of America, not surprisingly, fucked his shit up. C. Talked with him in the hall, but I could barely here. The cats battled, we returned to watching Angels in America. This thing is at least six hours long, so it will take some time getting through. Fell asleep during, had to go to bed.
. . .
It is all a matter of managing the time to be able to expand the brain, the mind, the soul, etc. I have been thinking about neglect, I mean, how I am neglectful. For example, I could just let the car go. I could never change the oil or any of it, and then I’d be screwed. The engine would blow and I’d be sorry then. My sorry ass would be riding the bus everyday. So things are easy now, driving ten minutes to and fro, but if I were to let the car go, it’d take an hour each way. I bring this up because, by not being “adult” or whatever, I only do the things I want to do and don’t take care of other responsibilities. Yet when I do take care of them, I always feel full of life by the time i’m done, also realizing how easy it was to take care of it, and how quick.
. . .
I put myself on the line when I advertise my hopes and plans.
. . .
I’ve realized something. As you are about to die, the dead are all around you: you may be able to see them, you may not. But they are actually full and willing to pull you in with them. They don’t care, they won’t hesitate. They’ve already crossed. The more you proclaim how miserable you are, that you want to die, that you can almost feel that you won’t live a “full” life, you’re inviting the dead to come and get you right now, at any moment. Don’t insult life that way. Life is just as real as death. Don’t insult death that way. It can’t be all that far away. Try to enjoy this life during your stay in this awful world.
. . .
As I sat at the traffic light, I called out many different parts of me that felt different things. One part feels excited. Another tired. One wanting to go out and “celebrate,” one rebuking me, saying I should stay in. I suppose if I went out now I would experience cold, cold! And it would be lonely and miserable. Better though, than watching tv waiting for a ball to drop. Yes, remember Matt Swasey telling you how he spent his New Year in a field at midnight, staring up into the sky?
. . .
I have gone out. For three minutes only. I walked up the block and back, very slowly, looking at stars, imagining things were better, knowing they could be worse, glad they’re not that bad, as they say when they’re trying to talk you out of something. I could write a strange story about a man on a ledge and people trying to talk him out of it. They’re sending him text messages on his cell phone, and he is taking his time to check them all, and respond. Insanity. How can I possibly justify the new technology? Because I feel I really make it work for me. I don’t know what most others are up to. Maybe they’re going to hell in a very christian or non-christian way. I don’t know, but I care. Other people are different in that way, because I think they stop. It takes too much energy or something. It’s easier to stop caring and say those who do are bleeding heart liberals. Casey was tripping me out with her: “tell them you are anarchist, so anarchist you think the left is right.” Yes, I think people are pushing me these days to start speaking up about things. It’s a blessing in disguise, or not even in disguise. I just have to open my eyes.