2003-11-09 - 1:59 a.m.

thursday misfits with mohawk max and roomie liz. got the shit beat out of me. brought back memories.

friday parents & sibs. then just little sister. drinking and walking and talking and dancing. annie reminds me of a favorite aunt. her roommate reminds me of tinkerbell. many pretty boys.

tonight not a great one. did homework earlier, dinner with family, drank more, hugged everyone. helped my sister to lose all respect for me. oh well, it would have been her if they hadn't run out of pink fizzy drinks in little bottles. girlie drinks panty droppers. she with her pink drinks and me with my 40. but she ran out of pink drinks and felt the burdern of being the un-drunk one. everybody learns. later watched M, played spoons. and drunk telephone. i believe the ending phrase was "i met a man who met a man who met a man who met a man who had some snakes and some glasses and some shit."

the most intense emotions of the weekend being a random cloudy nap i took before dinner while listening to ani. it seemed to be the exact same cloudy day i first heard her. i bought little plastic castle on clearance because i liked the cover when i was twelve. and listening there, lying there, wondering what had really changed and what shouldn't have.

my sister is not me.

oh and i got some drunken emails from boy boy. weepy drunk. endearing.

i am so lonely. but i realized lying there in my cocoon under the window, anyone i can think of won't fit in the lonely slot. the what's missing slot is not person shaped. at least, not shaped like any of the people i would have thought. it's shaped like me, or possibly granville, or possibly the past. or possibly the future. maybe it's shaped like certainty.

being a student is not teaching me anything but calculus and japanese history. it's not teaching me contentment or peace or joy or tenderness. i think maybe i'm not a student at heart. maybe i'm a lover or a mother or a little girl. but i don't think i'm a philosopher or a calculist or an astronomer or a linguist. although those are fun hats to wear. i'm nothing more or less than a poet. and i don't mean that in an "i'm poetic, my soul has poetry" way. i just mean, that's all i am. i express confusion. that's all i really feel like doing in any permanent sense.

this is so drunk and rambling. in the words of emma, i'm t-i-p-c-y. but this entry isn't for your benefit. i'm not trying to tell you about my weekend or my experiences. i'm just recording for myself my thoughts.

to be honest, as cliched as it is, i still feel that i only think clearly about the really important things when i'm drunk. because being sober allows me to follow the minute foreground details that ultimately mean nothing. but being drunk is like when you unfocus your eyes and the periphery becomes so much broader.

i am so very lonely. i'm going to go find someone to ramble to.

one step forward - one step back