February 21st, 2004: I mean, not to be lame and quote Alanis Morissette or anything, but in my perpetual state of self-loathing and longing, this lyric struck me tonight: "Soon I'll grow up and I won't even flinch at your name."
February 9th, 2004: I was thinking today about being a professor and sleeping with all of my students, as I'm prone to do. I was thinking that being a professor is really the way to go, because I'll always have a fresh crop of willing, young pupils. New ones every quarter. And I'll be a difficult grader, of course, so there'll always be plenty of students who'll need to provide sexual favours to me to compensate for their in-class performance. Plus, I'm just going to be one hot old broad.
The problem is that when I'm imagining these romps on my desk, I have to imagine myself being a man, because it doesn't seem like it would be any fun being a promiscuous woman. As a male professor—married, of course, to someone as brilliant as I—I could just stick myself in anyone, anywhere. But as a woman, I would have to worry about my birth control failing and my becoming pregnant with some non-punctuating, grammatical error-making, English 101-taking frat boy's baby. My poor poet/sculptor/musician husband would blame himself for our son's inability to properly use semicolons, of course, because my DNA is obviously unflawed. Little would he know that it was the fault of some 50 Cent-loving imbecile, and I would have to live in shame with my guilt forever. But, you know, not the sort of guilt or shame that would stop me from sleeping with my students.
February 4th, 2004: I feel like I was personally attacked recently in a friend's online journal through my presidential candidate of choice, so I was talking about it with another friend today, and we decided this: voting for a candidate because you think that he's more "electable" than another is maybe the most ridiculous thing in the entire world. It's like we, a society of voters who couldn't be more disgusted by George W. Bush, believe that we actually have to vote for the Democratic candidate most like Bush in the primaries in order to win the general election in November. Fuck moderate voters, I say. Let them choose to be conservative or choose to be liberal. It's nauseating when John Kerry wins the primary vote because he's Republican enough to please the mindless who know that Bush is dicking them over with his tax plan but are too close-minded to accept gay marriage. Democrats are just conformist as Republicans, it seems.
Dennis Kucinich, will you have my babies?
February 1st, 2004: The following is a portion of one of T.S. Eliot's pre-"Waste Land" drafts. And I'm in love with it. Especially the third stanza.
First he was sure that he had been a tree,
Twisting its branches among each other
And tangling its roots among each other.
Then he knew that he had been a fish
With slippery white belly held tight in his own fingers,
Writhing in his own clutch, his ancient beauty
Caught fast in the pink tips of his new beauty.
Then he had been a young girl
Caught in the woods by a drunken old man
Knowing at the end the taste of his own whiteness,
The horror of his own smoothness,
And he felt drunken and old.
So he became a dancer to God,
Because his flesh was in love with the burning arrows
He danced on the hot sand
Until the arrows came.
As he embraced them his white skin surrendered itself
to the redness of blood, and satisfied him.
Now he is green, dry and stained
With the shadow in his mouth.