Shallow Abyss?
12-16 Tu 12:15 PM
Kids play soccer on the grass. Finally I feel some warmth today. When the pigeons land they beat up a flurry of sycamore leaves. I woke up at three thirty with the usual anguish. I read a chapter in Henry Miller in which he goes through exactly what I'm going through. The streets embedded with cruelty. Pages 160-166 of the Grove Press edition of Tropic of Cancer. I won't copy it all here. "When I realize she is gone, perhaps gone forever, a great void opens up and I feel that I am falling, falling into deep black space. And this is worse than tears, deeper than regret or pain or sorrow; it is the abyss into which Satan was plunged."
1:20 Urg. Back in class at my desk. Ate a half a bag of Funyons Dijonia gave me for lunch. Got a cup of coffee so I won't fall asleep at my desk again. Miller is a genius. What will I do when I get home. Type? Sleep? Go out for a drink? Eat maybe? Jerk off?
Who used who? In the end, whose feelings were deeper or stronger? Turned me into the bitch from the Alanis Morissette songs.
I was trying to think of a frame for life: Birth on one side, death on the other, Heaven above and Hell below.
When will I be able to sleep again? I don't feel too bad right now. Sharon said there will be relapses. Fuck. I want to go out and drink in public, mix it up with life again. I'm scared though, scared of evil. I used to be fearless.
She wanted to sell me a thirty bag. ShrillButt. Shrilly Asspain. It was always fucked up. I want to drink, but I'm afraid of what it will do to me. Susan called. I'll call her today or tonight or tomorrow or something. Had brunch with Yovonne Ellington last Sunday. Shirelle said she would have gone with me. Glorious told me she loved me last night. I told her I didn't know how I felt, but when Shirelle used to say that to me, I wouldn't respond in kind, cuz I wasn't sure, so she got sick of it and left me, and that's how I found out I did love her, but by then, of course, it was too late. So why hold back? I thought those words should be special, but I'll start slutting them out like a ten-dollar crack whore from now on.
What will I do when school ends? Read more Miller, I guess.
Kids play soccer on the grass. Finally I feel some warmth today. When the pigeons land they beat up a flurry of sycamore leaves. I woke up at three thirty with the usual anguish. I read a chapter in Henry Miller in which he goes through exactly what I'm going through. The streets embedded with cruelty. Pages 160-166 of the Grove Press edition of Tropic of Cancer. I won't copy it all here. "When I realize she is gone, perhaps gone forever, a great void opens up and I feel that I am falling, falling into deep black space. And this is worse than tears, deeper than regret or pain or sorrow; it is the abyss into which Satan was plunged."
1:20 Urg. Back in class at my desk. Ate a half a bag of Funyons Dijonia gave me for lunch. Got a cup of coffee so I won't fall asleep at my desk again. Miller is a genius. What will I do when I get home. Type? Sleep? Go out for a drink? Eat maybe? Jerk off?
Who used who? In the end, whose feelings were deeper or stronger? Turned me into the bitch from the Alanis Morissette songs.
I was trying to think of a frame for life: Birth on one side, death on the other, Heaven above and Hell below.
When will I be able to sleep again? I don't feel too bad right now. Sharon said there will be relapses. Fuck. I want to go out and drink in public, mix it up with life again. I'm scared though, scared of evil. I used to be fearless.
She wanted to sell me a thirty bag. ShrillButt. Shrilly Asspain. It was always fucked up. I want to drink, but I'm afraid of what it will do to me. Susan called. I'll call her today or tonight or tomorrow or something. Had brunch with Yovonne Ellington last Sunday. Shirelle said she would have gone with me. Glorious told me she loved me last night. I told her I didn't know how I felt, but when Shirelle used to say that to me, I wouldn't respond in kind, cuz I wasn't sure, so she got sick of it and left me, and that's how I found out I did love her, but by then, of course, it was too late. So why hold back? I thought those words should be special, but I'll start slutting them out like a ten-dollar crack whore from now on.
What will I do when school ends? Read more Miller, I guess.
Labels: Lowlife Literature
posted by johnz at 5:56 AM
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