By Nous

                          February 28, 2005

feb25: Stomach Egg

Gas stoves are pretty quaint at this point, eh?  We have an old
stove, the kind that Rachael Ray has in her kitchen.  Found out
recently that antique collectors would be willing to buy it for
a ridiculous price. Won't give it up, () egg.
I felt something scurry across my pants just now. Nothing there
of course.
I saw my mom heating up a pan.
I gave her a friendly punch on the arm and said, "Are you going
to make me huevos with eggs?"
I saw some burnt up paper or something on the stove. Mother lit
a fire under another pan.
"What is that?" I asked her.
"A match," she said.

Turns out my GPA is not good enough for me to get into Honors
English.  I didn't tell my teacher this; I haven't confronted
her about it at all.
Melissa LeFleur... Hm...

feb27: Losing Touch

Quite frankly, nothing feels very real. In fact, everything
that happened yesterday and today may as well have been a
dream, because I won't remember it.
These are the days we will forget. I know you will forget me
by the time I'm finished here. I have no faith; I have no one.
I have no way to know that I am still alive.
But I will breathe till I feel my lungs collapse.
Two weeks ago was the most wonderful time of my life. And now
no feeling rests inside me. Two weeks ago a person lived in
here and now I've had some strange abortion. I feel like that
Mormon girl who had her babies removed from her body while in
a drugged state. And she didn't remember it and neither do I.
"I am like a room where things once happened, but now nothing
does."
A poem I wrote before class:

Ordinary aerial
Departure, when Aquarius -
Alive and diving under
Soaring stars -
Begins a song of longing

Ordinary aerial
Declension when Aquarius
Begins a song of longing
On her Saturday departure

***

9:31 at night. My bed calls to me. Slight headache.
When I'm around people, I believe that they can feel the
vaccuum in my body. I think they can hear the silence of my
heart.
CAN YOU? TELL ME, I MUST KNOW!
Here's the point. It makes me want to be alone forever. But I
won't, because I couldn't take it. I can't remain alone for
long; I'll soon enough turn on myself.
This is a stupid existence. I feel like I might as well die.
Spent the afternoon at the mall parking lot wishing I weren't
alone, and reading this book on hypnosis. I checked out a lot
of weird things.
Actually, when I entered the library I was surprised to find
that it had become a flea market or something. It was weird.
I assumed it wouldn't be busy because it was a Sunday.  But
there were all sorts of people in there. Old people behind
desks checking out antiques; intermediate and high school
students chatting loudly about school; children whining.
Felt surrounded.
And sick.

feb28: Valerie

Guess which Carnival Girl's house I went to recently?
That's right. Crazy Carnival Girls' house. She had a project
on Krystallnacht or however you spell it due today.  I hope
she did okay. I was supposed to help her. Or at least, I had
it in my mind that I was going to help her. She probably did
okay.
She stopped smoking weed for a while and when I went over
there, she was really normal. Usually, she'd be a little
hyper and really excited. But she was calm. It was somewhat
estrano.
Okay, so it's morning time and I did my stretches and the whole
thing. I feel okay. I'm not sure if this feeling will last
through the day, but let's hope it will.
I'm hoping you'll be much happier than me today. Much much
MUCH happier. I hope you have such a good time and people are
nice to you. I hope you learn to forgive and I hope you're not
easily discouraged.
I WANT SO MUCH FOR YOU ALL.
But especially for you
And you
And you
And you
And you
And
Y
O
U

10am: I know I had a lucid dream last night, but I can't remember
it. I had one about Casey Moore returning from the Marines and my
mom knew him really well. They were friends.

12pm: Empty glass

9pm: Last week it was funny. I never want to sleep again.

10pm: Spring lows will become summer blues. Summer blues will in
turn become an autumnal depression, which, as we all know, meets
the winter doldrums. Year-round melancholy. Just as the hunter/
gatherers moved with the rain, so must we, never allowing the
sun to burn our lovely bodies.
But I want to be burned so badly. I want to be scorched alive.

So merry Christmas and a sunny year.

The End pt II