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keep comin'
playlist april 1: rolling stones; satanic majesties request, the misfits; any&all, the white stripes; white blood cells, the dixie chicks; fly. today seems stagnate. the past few days have. i feel as though i am standing still (again) and in my recovery i feel...nothing much, sadly enough. i miss my friend. i miss J. i miss him so much i feel as though i am starting to resent him and hate him. this missing thing is getting me angry and i want to lash out at him, yell at him, throw a rock...something. i'm not going to but i want to. i do find solace in music more than anything else these days, although i dont really know how to wrap my head around all that i love. is music there for me to critique, or just simply enjoy? both? it's hard, but amazing because of that. i want to write, write, write. i want to write EVERYTHING. stories, poems, song lyrics, reviews, biographies. but all i write is this: the diary. i'm trapped in diaryland. i am an addict and i want everything, i want it fast, and i want it huge. i want to be huge, figurativly speaking. i want to be everywhere all of the time, so instead i'm just alone in my apt. i get thinking too big and too much and it overwhelms me. i want the program to give me the motivation to do stuff and right now it's just not. kcb. i keep thinking about driving away. i keep thinking that if i drive away i might find something sacred that will trip me out and rock my world and change my life. i'm crazy. what's up? what do i WANT, really? i dont know i dont know idontknowidontknow. ride johnny ride. everything just seems so 'routine' right now and it's bothering me, like things are really ok and i just want to fuck it up. my routine isn't really that repetitive, but in my head i think i'm too boring, too good. when i was using, everything was still and repetitve but there was chaos and i loved that chaos. it was in my head, true, but it's my heart as well. i am genuinly passionate about chaos and it's something i dont want to let go of. chaos doesnt have to be about getting fucked up, but its a great place to start, so they say anyway. i went to buy nikes today and the two dudes that were working there were DICKS. fuck nikes man. these 2 kids were like, those 90's supreme skater boys but a little older, and what really bothers me i think is that immediatly i think "if they knew worked at their favorite magazine, they'd be kissing my ass" but that is bullshit too. i hate 'too cool for school' and sometimes i wonder if my motives for wanting to communicate and achieve recognition thru my art is based solely on revenge. REVENGE. that's a good word. but it has such a sad m.o i guess. like, what am i trying to prove and why do i need to prove anything? i wish i could really be ok with that all of the time. sometimes i wish i was just a librarian, living in nebraska or something. my husband would be a janitor. everything would be simple. i wouldn't know any of this. but really, thank god that i do. i'm a contradiction. i want attention but when people pay attention to me, i resent them and get annoyed by it--sometimes. maybe it has something to do with the fact that when someone says my name, i immediatly think it's because i did something wrong. there's high school. it's not going away. yeah dude, kcb.
6:02 p.m. - 2002-04-01
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history - mystery
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