sublingua

The heart with a mind of its own.

(Be present.)

The mind with a heart of its own.

(It's past.)

The dream that is your waking life.

(Go there now.)

Sophistica and lamentation
2000-12-14

Got an e-mail from Sophistica today; she is the most social antisocial girl I've ever met, and witty-to-end-all witty (puts-me-to-shame witty). I'm jealous--or at least I'd be more jealous if we weren't some kind of friends. Anyway, to end the singing of praises, she wants for our little study group to get together and celebrate the end of the semester. I've been kind of hiding under the covers avoiding the reality and letdown of the semester's end, and she wants to celebrate. So, I'll do it, if for no other reason than that I wouldn't think to do it on my own. (Who knows, this stuff might work.)

I also began sorting through the bookshelf of crap in the kitchen. That bookshelf is my albatross. So far, I haven't made any progress, though I did unearth some outrageous bit of pornographic writing I did around my last birthday. (I was shocked by it. I can hardly imagine what kind of person writes this stuff if it isn't me.) I threw out a couple of markers that had gone dry, and a pen refill that didn't fit the pen, but that's about it. Oh, and I began a new quotation book to gather up some of the scrapulas of paper that orbit my existence. My favorite find of the evening: "'I' is only a convenient term used by somebody who has no real being."-V. Woolf from "A Room of One's Own."

So, other than that--I have done nothing. Nothing. I took a shower. I ate a veggie burger with cheese. I ate half a piece of pecan pie with vanilla ice cream. I played on the internet for a while. I lamented not having a life, feeling useless, etc.

This has to be the most boring diary in existence. (Tho' I know that isn't true just from a quick jaunt through a couple of the other diaries which are kept by teenagers who think that the end of the world is tied somehow to their complexions and/or social lives or by passive-aggressive alcoholic gay men who think that office politics are an excuse for a life. At least I know that I have no life. I don't have to pretend that I do and dress it up with HTML.)

How bitter that sounds, I know. I'm feeling very cynical today, as the reign of "dubya" begins, and I worry about my reproductive freedoms being turned into so much toilet paper for the gaping assholes of the conservative republican party. That, of course, is not the only thing on my mind. I'm also worried about the useless lump that I have become. I'm also worried about my inability to boot up. I'm worried about christmas. I'm worried that someday I'll have to admit that I want to enjoy christmas--and by then, it'll be too late. Christmas will have been swallowed up by commercial crap that is to thick to choke my way through: catalogs full of useless things, obligations, and family.

I'm worried that any creativity I have had in the past has evaporated before I have had a chance to exploit it. I'm worried that one day my whining won't pass for cynicism anymore.

retreat or surrender

More lies:
Waking Sleeping Demons II - Sunday, Oct. 30, 2011
Waking Sleeping Demons - Saturday, Oct. 29, 2011
time - Friday, May. 20, 2011
- - Wednesday, Oct. 06, 2010
The Return - Tuesday, Oct. 05, 2010

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