Hits of Sunshine
Just had a class on Ginsberg's "Supermarket in California." Teaching is somewhat like being a performance artist. I blather on about nothing, but try to keep them interested. When I try interpretive dance to get them to wake up, shoot me, please?
Before, I had a cigarette with a couple of students. Surprisingly, a lot of people smoke. Is it strange that I identify more with smokers? Not that I don't with non-smokers, but there's some sort of comradery going on... Like a mutual agreement that we are doing something very stupid, but that it makes us (happy isn't the word) something. Saturday outside a bar smoking there was an instant connection. "Do you need a light?" "Naw, thanks." Smiles all around. Like, "we're stupid, but we like it so fuck it." It's strange that everyone who smokes acknowledges that they shouldn't, but is like "fuck it."
Is the world filled with masochists? I am one. It's so obvious I am one. Scars everywhere. And, when I drink, complete abandon.
Been seeing a therapist again. All about the previous entries. He told me to journal about the good things I do for myself. Kind of a silly task. I've been avoiding it. Does sitting on a couch all yesterday watching Season 2 of Arrested Development count? Does having three cigarettes in one day instead of five? What do I do that is good for myself? I went to starbucks after the appointment...does that count?
And, tonight, White Stripes. I might swoon at the sight of Meg White. Her nonchalant drumming. Her gorgeous self. I want to grab her and never let her go. Rationally I know she isn't what I imagine her to be. Rationally I know my obsession with her is ridiculous. But but but... I can't help it. The way she stares off or closes her eyes while drumming makes me want to take a hot hot shower that last hours.
She looks like someone I once knew. My first real girl-love. I guess that is part of it. A big part. Oh how I wish she were staring at me like this:
I know...creepy. Bizarre. A little sick and twisted, but I can't help it. Drummer chicks have always been a draw for me. I should take lessons. Maybe I'll have girls swarm me...
Before, I had a cigarette with a couple of students. Surprisingly, a lot of people smoke. Is it strange that I identify more with smokers? Not that I don't with non-smokers, but there's some sort of comradery going on... Like a mutual agreement that we are doing something very stupid, but that it makes us (happy isn't the word) something. Saturday outside a bar smoking there was an instant connection. "Do you need a light?" "Naw, thanks." Smiles all around. Like, "we're stupid, but we like it so fuck it." It's strange that everyone who smokes acknowledges that they shouldn't, but is like "fuck it."
Is the world filled with masochists? I am one. It's so obvious I am one. Scars everywhere. And, when I drink, complete abandon.
Been seeing a therapist again. All about the previous entries. He told me to journal about the good things I do for myself. Kind of a silly task. I've been avoiding it. Does sitting on a couch all yesterday watching Season 2 of Arrested Development count? Does having three cigarettes in one day instead of five? What do I do that is good for myself? I went to starbucks after the appointment...does that count?
And, tonight, White Stripes. I might swoon at the sight of Meg White. Her nonchalant drumming. Her gorgeous self. I want to grab her and never let her go. Rationally I know she isn't what I imagine her to be. Rationally I know my obsession with her is ridiculous. But but but... I can't help it. The way she stares off or closes her eyes while drumming makes me want to take a hot hot shower that last hours.
She looks like someone I once knew. My first real girl-love. I guess that is part of it. A big part. Oh how I wish she were staring at me like this:
I know...creepy. Bizarre. A little sick and twisted, but I can't help it. Drummer chicks have always been a draw for me. I should take lessons. Maybe I'll have girls swarm me...