Feeds:the Recipe
- Portraying: Mosh to live, don't live to mosh
- Conveying: Fear, dissapointment, piss-offedness, intense longing
- When Praying: Ian's grades
What's the word for an intense longing for something one can't have?
Tonight was the first night I really missed my hair.
Tonight, I learned how to dance.
Man, from the 'Conveying' line in the header, one'd think I was a swirling keg of violent emotion.
This hat is starting to fall apart.
I'm afraid. I'm afraid that I'm becoming a punk. I mean, let's take the facts: I'm a pissed-off young man with short hair and a hoodie. All I really need now is a blatent disregard for the well-being of others. Then there's those extra things: ripped jeans, brightly-dyed hair, body mutilation. I still haven't patched my favorite pair, I'm considering dying my hair green (though not sure if it's worth it at this point), and I've always wanted an eyebrow piercing.
Caroline got drunk tonight. Caroline is not the drinking kind. Drunk Caroline scares me.
It always pisses me off when I go to something like tonight and I still have both my shoes at the end of the show. These Hyde Park kids, these U of C kids, they're all freakin' pansies. If I don't get a mosh pit soon, I might start a fight instead. Everyone knows that's a bad idea. Tonight I remebered something fromwhat seems like long ago.... The feeling that one can't be completely healthy without some open wound somewhere on one's body. Excepting the one I found last week, I can't remember the last time I found on my body a scap I didn't already know was there. I remember when my wrists were constantly scarred from the zippers and sharp seams of other people in the mosh pit. I can remember limping away from moshpits week after week.... So I'm nostalgic and grieving the unnoticed passing away of what I once was.
I want me back. I wouldn't mind having Amanda back, too, now that she's single again. But she's not going to get involved for a couple months, so that's not relevent. am I even talking about this? I've got important self-pitying to do.
More and more, I have a thirst that water doesn't quench. No, I don't mean 'the Thirst', and no, I'm not talking symbolically. I'm just thirsty, and water feels so rough and hard in my throat. Maybe milk.... but milk is so filling.
So, I miss me. Not just me, but all the other things that helped me be me. I realized the other day that I'm alone in my head.... where did everyone go? Dip, Blue, Daze, all my alteregos.... gone. It's so quiet....
I can't do half of what I once could. I'm not half of what I once was. "Life of the Mind"? Huh. Why does it feel like I'm dying, then?
I need my bike helmet back, so I can do stupid things without killing myself. Oh yeah, and I saw About Schmidt today, and I cried when he opened the painting. That's right, I cried at a movie. I'm not ashamed. I'm proud. Tears are a blessing. I hope none of you ever forget that.
Amanda, I love you. Write me an e-mail.
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