talk to me now I'm older
2004-01-27 - 5:07 p.m.

Hungry, trying to decide whether hunger or food is my friend. Food is gratifying but fades too fast, at least hunger lingers around keeping me company.

I finished Catch 22. Can anyone suggest other novels that I ought to read so I can wither away my title of "cultureless void"?

I liked and disliked Catch 22.

There's a spelling mistake on page 364.

It irks me that of all the things I could think to say of it, that comes to mind first.

I liked the ending, of course, anyway. Trying to redeem myself from sounding like an auditor. Like things can be neatly added and subtracted in terms of merits. Or just sounding like me, like superficial things are important.

Do you remember that girl I mentioned about 9 weeks ago, who went missing near where I went to school? She turned up nearby while I was in hospital. In a bag. A sportsbag. They identified her by dental records.

I long to cross myself everytime I think about it or drink that jar of holy water my mother keeps in the cupboard, or something, anything.

Man, there's really no way to get the tone happy from here is there ... I perpetually paint myself into my little dark corner ... why? I'm not unhappy, generally, really I'm not. Habit? I hate to think that.

Practice? That's even worse, like I'm sharpening it down so I can get better at it.

I just heard a whole chorus of people muttering "someone needs a life" in the back of my head...

I want to do something ... big. Lasting. Be part of a larger whole.

My brain leaves out the w when I read that back to myself and it tries to convince me that I'm talking about making the world's largest donut to temporarily abate world hunger.

Speaking of donuts (a segue that probably only makes sense in my own head) Valentine's Day is coming up, and. Well, I've never gotten anything for it, so it occured to me it would be better to do some giving rather than the usual sitting around pouting, although the pouting is notably tempting.

So ... will you be my valentine? Email me your address and I'll send you a card regardless of where you live or who you are or what you look like. You could be an elephant training vampire biker midget in Zurich for all I care ... I mean, I care in a pathetically pc way and will respect you as a person and all that ... but I won't discriminate and you will damn well get a card from me, although if you're in Zurich don't expect it to get there on time or anything, especially because at the moment I haven't the faintest clue where Zurich is which isn't surprising considering the geography test I had in year 8 where I put the city I have lived in my entire life in the wrong part of the state on the map.

So cards, anyone want? Someone has to to stop me from causing marital breakdown by mailing them to random strangers in the phonebook. Or worse, sending a bunch to myself to try and look popular.

Although that might cement my title as "Queen of the Losers" (long fought over with this one). Somehow I see this queen, whoever it ends up being, marrying the King of the Nerds in a happy broadway musical.

As the insanity crescendoes so endeth the entry.


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