The Philosophical Question of the Day
2-10-99 11:06 AM W
Just going through life trying to keep my cravings and desires in check--waiting to be free to be me(such times do come occasionally)--they're mostly self-destructive. I haven't eaten yet today. I bought a newspaper, but someone had filched the sports page out of it. The important philosophical question of the day: What's for lunch? I didn't type this morning. I haven't cared to write lately. It has been self-enforced labor lately. A total grind. The pencil and paper resist each other, the friction of it seems extraordinary today. And again: What for lunch? Haven't read any Tar Baby yet today. The skies are clear today, but a chill wind blows. Everyone remarks that it's cold. I don't think it's as cold as people say. I think they just unconsciously enjoy dramatizing the difference between the usual temperature. The weekend looms large. That's why I'm such a wreck these days. That's why I don't/can't write. Jim seems retarded again. What else? Ten minutes until the next big decision in my life: What for lunch? We played a little ball in the wind today. Even eight-year-olds get me out. Shirelle said this morning, "Life sucks dog [pencil sketch of Lon Chaney as the Phantom of the Opera] shit." That made me laugh. Whatever. What else? 5:38 PM I'm hiding out in the bathroom at Pio Pico. Mr. McKey who uses my room during the day (or really I use his room at night) stayed late again. He's so long-winded, I can't do anything but listen to him if I go to my class early to write. My beard is growing.
Just going through life trying to keep my cravings and desires in check--waiting to be free to be me(such times do come occasionally)--they're mostly self-destructive. I haven't eaten yet today. I bought a newspaper, but someone had filched the sports page out of it. The important philosophical question of the day: What's for lunch? I didn't type this morning. I haven't cared to write lately. It has been self-enforced labor lately. A total grind. The pencil and paper resist each other, the friction of it seems extraordinary today. And again: What for lunch? Haven't read any Tar Baby yet today. The skies are clear today, but a chill wind blows. Everyone remarks that it's cold. I don't think it's as cold as people say. I think they just unconsciously enjoy dramatizing the difference between the usual temperature. The weekend looms large. That's why I'm such a wreck these days. That's why I don't/can't write. Jim seems retarded again. What else? Ten minutes until the next big decision in my life: What for lunch? We played a little ball in the wind today. Even eight-year-olds get me out. Shirelle said this morning, "Life sucks dog [pencil sketch of Lon Chaney as the Phantom of the Opera] shit." That made me laugh. Whatever. What else? 5:38 PM I'm hiding out in the bathroom at Pio Pico. Mr. McKey who uses my room during the day (or really I use his room at night) stayed late again. He's so long-winded, I can't do anything but listen to him if I go to my class early to write. My beard is growing.
posted by johnz at 6:42 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home