"damage"
wtf im in despair that i havent written anything worthy these days. i feel burnt and useless like when u suck too fast on the quick butt of the cigarette and u get heat centered on one part of ur lip. i dont want to be crying my heart out--who gives the fuck rite? i hate those ppl. i want steel edginess. i want metal. i read my second michelle tea book it's called rose of no man's land and the main character doesnt really have much of an inner life, i mean she's a homebody like i used to be but she has so much character, i love that. also it made me want to try crystal meth. she glorifies the drug life for sure but i mean im done with the good girl stint, the one where im supposed to follow some stricture about what and what not to do. i was raised a Catholic. i wholeheartedly believed that shit about marrying Jesus and shit--for like, a half day. it seemed so glorious to be wholeheartedly for one thing that youwould marry it. i spout shit like that all the time. like "i love tape so much i want to marry it" when i was obsessed with the idea of keeping myself together through artificial means, to tape me up messily like a porcelain doll u accidentally dropped. see i think that would be a good imagery, if someone can take a picture of that that would be awesome--maybe i will buy one from kiwanis and tape it. my aunt has lots and lots of tape at home, thick masking tape and clear packing tape--a treasury of tape. but anyway. one time my religion teacher (i went to a catholic school, religion did not have to be defined, because all religion is catholic religion) gave this long talk about st. theresa of avila and how she loved jesus. those fucking martyrs knock me out. theyre kind of pathological, i think, special. it has a certain allure for me that scares me. i dont want to be a fucking martyr, i dont want to be a masochist...except i think in some ways, i already am. i know it, and ive been accused of it. and i hate that it might be right. it's nothing overt like cutting or doing excessive drugs. it's more a mental thing. i like thinking bad things because it gives me a special feeling in my chest, like my heart really hurts. i dont know how to describe it, but the thing is im the only person who can make me feel like that. it's delicious. but also--its not a good feeling. its really negative. except i cant seem to stop myself.
also i want to finish reading this book called games ppl play i dont know who i heard it from. but the idea is that we have this need for intimacy that is rooted in infantile needs to be stroked. as we get older and this need is unfulfilled, we sort of sublimate this need through other forms of contact and social interaction such as when someone says hi to u on the street and even when u read about the lives of other ppl in books or something. so all u ppl who read my journals, u just want me to stroke u. hahahah.
i have other things to say, im thinking of them but i dont wnat to write them down because even tho a writer must not be afraid of writing anything down, i do have vulnerabilities--well fuck that. so someone invited me out for friday to take pictures--of what? there is a certain dangerous and exciting prospect that it is of me. naked. how is that for lol> and the thing is im seriously considering it. the thing is tho i have taken all these classes that tell me that for someone to be viewed, painted, photographed means one is speechless, and powerless. everything is a marxist struggle for power. did you know that? yeah, apparently. everythign can be interpreted as the constant struggle for power between the oppressed and oppressor, the powerful and the powerless, the rich and the poor. im sure there's an alternative POV where to allow urself to be photographed in a certain way or somethign is a reversal of hte power grid. in teh same way that dominatrix games is actually about the dominatrix having power over the weak men who pay to be humiliated.
fuck, i think too much.
also i want to finish reading this book called games ppl play i dont know who i heard it from. but the idea is that we have this need for intimacy that is rooted in infantile needs to be stroked. as we get older and this need is unfulfilled, we sort of sublimate this need through other forms of contact and social interaction such as when someone says hi to u on the street and even when u read about the lives of other ppl in books or something. so all u ppl who read my journals, u just want me to stroke u. hahahah.
i have other things to say, im thinking of them but i dont wnat to write them down because even tho a writer must not be afraid of writing anything down, i do have vulnerabilities--well fuck that. so someone invited me out for friday to take pictures--of what? there is a certain dangerous and exciting prospect that it is of me. naked. how is that for lol> and the thing is im seriously considering it. the thing is tho i have taken all these classes that tell me that for someone to be viewed, painted, photographed means one is speechless, and powerless. everything is a marxist struggle for power. did you know that? yeah, apparently. everythign can be interpreted as the constant struggle for power between the oppressed and oppressor, the powerful and the powerless, the rich and the poor. im sure there's an alternative POV where to allow urself to be photographed in a certain way or somethign is a reversal of hte power grid. in teh same way that dominatrix games is actually about the dominatrix having power over the weak men who pay to be humiliated.
fuck, i think too much.