15 April, 2004
"You don't have to worry about me any more." (said with great sadness)
"You fuck head!" (said very angrily by an angry man to another angry man)
"Four Years" (the amount of time it would take full time to finish the/a degree of my chosing.)
Limitations suck.
Youth supposedly is on most of our sides. Sore youth is not on most of our sides though its on enough for me to be able to mark the differences. Ten years of this. I'm angry at those who never know this for not understanding. Why don't you DO something? Oh fuck up and die.
(me just now)
I do think about him constantly- I feel like its my fault that he is where he is- in all the negative aspects- and I don't feel that I've helped him into any good either. There he is lonely and alone and I made myself his closest friend- the person he called every night- the woman he was with whenever he got the chance (that I gave because I dictated the whole thing.)
So to say that I don't have to worry about him anymore- to suggest that the ties are cut- is just ... well damn impossible.
I think that I decided today that its probably best if I find my own place. We all know that's the best thing don't we? If only for six months? If only for however long?
I need hatches to batten down. I need locks to lock and spring to clean.
I painted two things tonight- although painting doesn't really - oh it was painterly I suppose. The good old method of drawing in soluble pencil and crayon and then running it under the tap so that it bleeds everywhere. A constant reminder of those pebbles and shells that look dull when dry- but when licked, or submerged they glow.
The textiles course looks more interesting- less weird industry stuff- though I'll just have to eat my dirt without the water regardless of the type of mud pie I'd like to make.
I'd like to make a house- and then- in the proccess learn how to make all the things that go in it- and how the roads to it are made- and how the trees are made- and all the creatures that live around it- including you.
I'd like to learn all these things- how the books are bound in my house- how the sheets are dyed.
I'd like all of this and then submerge it.
Make a life that's shiney and wet and lacquered and glowing and rich and good.
Or something.
promanade