Happy that You've Come
(Nancy wore green stalkings, and she slept with everyone.)
This morning I slept until noon, and I'm trying to write but I can't seem to reach that trance of heaping creativity and apathy. This morning is gorgeous, and warm. It induces a feeling of complete contempt that's less than drug induced though thinking clearly is a little of a stretch. It's just that I'm nervous. How will I measure against other writers? I'm so worried that I've got no talent but 2 page essay ability. Verbal Self Expression- The Struggle of the Wannabes.
I miss my dad, so much. I'm going to see him this Thursday, in LA. We will smoke and drink. Then I will return to the trials of highschool.
It's this feeling that's itching. "Get me out of here." Now. ComeonComeonComeonComeon. Please don't pass me by. ("I am blind, but you can see, Yes, I'm blinded, totally.. I got the sense that the whole city was singing this.")
I took a hot bath and read Vanity Fair.
I had a nightmare again last night. Second night in a row. That makes me nervous. I used to get night terrors which is a nice way of saying that I used to be really terrified of sleeping because I had nightmares and I'd wake up scared.
I talked to Jaime until 4 this morning, and then I went to sleep, to wake up at noon.. as previously stated. The nightmare was all in yellow. I've never been so aware of colours in a dream.
The other night I ran into Travis, and again he did not remember my name. They call me and Bunny "Thumper and Pussy". He couldn't remember the time I gave him this bag of pastries left over from the bakery, either. I told him my name was "Holiday Golightly". He thought this was funny for a good hour. Abercrombie All American Kid was talking about carding his lays, Travis was giggling about raisons, Bunny was quiet and noncommital.. I was half watching them all with the interest only writers can carry.
I just remember feeling as if nothing was pointless that night. As we walked through Harvard, half tired but very free, as I bought her Valentine's Day gift, as I had a gauloise in her kitchen, as it turned out we got each other the same gift for Valentine's Day.. Until I had that fight with boyfriend, it was there.
I've got the biggest inclination, proclivity, to get dressed in costume and run to the Square. Something has to save me. Sometimes dress and art community are a lustrate in themselves, and no one else matters.
PLEASE DON'T PASS ME BY.
This morning I slept until noon, and I'm trying to write but I can't seem to reach that trance of heaping creativity and apathy. This morning is gorgeous, and warm. It induces a feeling of complete contempt that's less than drug induced though thinking clearly is a little of a stretch. It's just that I'm nervous. How will I measure against other writers? I'm so worried that I've got no talent but 2 page essay ability. Verbal Self Expression- The Struggle of the Wannabes.
I miss my dad, so much. I'm going to see him this Thursday, in LA. We will smoke and drink. Then I will return to the trials of highschool.
It's this feeling that's itching. "Get me out of here." Now. ComeonComeonComeonComeon. Please don't pass me by. ("I am blind, but you can see, Yes, I'm blinded, totally.. I got the sense that the whole city was singing this.")
I took a hot bath and read Vanity Fair.
I had a nightmare again last night. Second night in a row. That makes me nervous. I used to get night terrors which is a nice way of saying that I used to be really terrified of sleeping because I had nightmares and I'd wake up scared.
I talked to Jaime until 4 this morning, and then I went to sleep, to wake up at noon.. as previously stated. The nightmare was all in yellow. I've never been so aware of colours in a dream.
The other night I ran into Travis, and again he did not remember my name. They call me and Bunny "Thumper and Pussy". He couldn't remember the time I gave him this bag of pastries left over from the bakery, either. I told him my name was "Holiday Golightly". He thought this was funny for a good hour. Abercrombie All American Kid was talking about carding his lays, Travis was giggling about raisons, Bunny was quiet and noncommital.. I was half watching them all with the interest only writers can carry.
I just remember feeling as if nothing was pointless that night. As we walked through Harvard, half tired but very free, as I bought her Valentine's Day gift, as I had a gauloise in her kitchen, as it turned out we got each other the same gift for Valentine's Day.. Until I had that fight with boyfriend, it was there.
I've got the biggest inclination, proclivity, to get dressed in costume and run to the Square. Something has to save me. Sometimes dress and art community are a lustrate in themselves, and no one else matters.
PLEASE DON'T PASS ME BY.