tell me no more of enchanted days.
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
- in a joycean mood
feeling self aggrandizing today. troubled. a bit disheartened. things have not been going terribly well as of late. i went home friday and saturday for the half brother's party. i had to wake up sunday to find out from my mother that i have to to say my first ever eulogy.
i'm not really sure who i want to read this: maybe BK. maybe no one because it'll probably be a huge mess. so i guess i shall delve into my latest addictions and disorderly thoughts // as if i need any more introspection but i believe self pity is an all too dibilitating emotion to reconcile catharsism so here is my attempt: one week ago, i skipped all my classes for 7 days. i don't knw what i did really, probably played video games a lot, ordered in and read politica online to appease my worry over the campaign coverage -- against my better judgment but at the prompting of others i decided to do a bit of self help and see someone who's normally enbabled to deal with this sort of thing. 1hr later left me feeling a bit less strung out---not much, i still couldn't find it in myself to feel anything other than obligation for getting out of bed. so the wk continued after that session and i knew i had to go home and promised i would be v. good about it all which i tend to thk i was---baking cookies and brownies and eating and eating. and so then, i get back to new york looking forward to my bed and to sleep and to reading sylvia plath maybe but only waking up to find out the only person who ever cared about anything that mattered had been taken from me. just as things could have gotten better---just as i was maybe going to feel guilt-less, a huge sour wash of it seeps in...and 75 long years is a find old time really and i'm not SAD, really, just oddly unable to focus on it. I cried on my temporal iz's shoulder for two minutes and then i had to figure out how i was going to do my simone de beauvoir reading. which i did oddly.
i'm s'posed to write something for her: i thk i'll read tyger, tyger...i call upon dangerous lives of altar boys yet again. so: i've concluded this just doesn't make sense. somewhere somehow, i knw that happiness isn't some locked up special gift reserved for the unenlightened / i knw that it can be be an all pervasive demeanor without a contsant smile upon yr face, all while battling demons still not lost and fought. but i'm finding i'm battling without the ability to stop and take that special something away---maybe shiny and pretty. odd metaphors sorry. i'm trying to eloborate without drenching anyone in pity, shame or guilt.
so that's all. i'm going to buy something new to wear b/c i'll never want to wear it again.
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
- in a joycean mood
feeling self aggrandizing today. troubled. a bit disheartened. things have not been going terribly well as of late. i went home friday and saturday for the half brother's party. i had to wake up sunday to find out from my mother that i have to to say my first ever eulogy.
i'm not really sure who i want to read this: maybe BK. maybe no one because it'll probably be a huge mess. so i guess i shall delve into my latest addictions and disorderly thoughts // as if i need any more introspection but i believe self pity is an all too dibilitating emotion to reconcile catharsism so here is my attempt: one week ago, i skipped all my classes for 7 days. i don't knw what i did really, probably played video games a lot, ordered in and read politica online to appease my worry over the campaign coverage -- against my better judgment but at the prompting of others i decided to do a bit of self help and see someone who's normally enbabled to deal with this sort of thing. 1hr later left me feeling a bit less strung out---not much, i still couldn't find it in myself to feel anything other than obligation for getting out of bed. so the wk continued after that session and i knew i had to go home and promised i would be v. good about it all which i tend to thk i was---baking cookies and brownies and eating and eating. and so then, i get back to new york looking forward to my bed and to sleep and to reading sylvia plath maybe but only waking up to find out the only person who ever cared about anything that mattered had been taken from me. just as things could have gotten better---just as i was maybe going to feel guilt-less, a huge sour wash of it seeps in...and 75 long years is a find old time really and i'm not SAD, really, just oddly unable to focus on it. I cried on my temporal iz's shoulder for two minutes and then i had to figure out how i was going to do my simone de beauvoir reading. which i did oddly.
i'm s'posed to write something for her: i thk i'll read tyger, tyger...i call upon dangerous lives of altar boys yet again. so: i've concluded this just doesn't make sense. somewhere somehow, i knw that happiness isn't some locked up special gift reserved for the unenlightened / i knw that it can be be an all pervasive demeanor without a contsant smile upon yr face, all while battling demons still not lost and fought. but i'm finding i'm battling without the ability to stop and take that special something away---maybe shiny and pretty. odd metaphors sorry. i'm trying to eloborate without drenching anyone in pity, shame or guilt.
so that's all. i'm going to buy something new to wear b/c i'll never want to wear it again.