”The rate of AIDS infection is on the increase again. From the gay point of view, the reasons seem quite sensible. First, these men don’t really see a reason to live past their fifties. They are not married, they have no children, and their lives are centered on new sexual partners… because sex is the center of their lives, they want it to be as pleasurable as possible, which means unprotected sex. Third, they enjoy the attention & pity that comes with being sick.” (Ron Paul, 1995 in a newsletter)
i remember when i thought ron paul might be the lesser evil of the republican candidates. then i find all this bullshit - as well as his low opinion of the black community.
dude is at best crazy. realistically, though, he’s just an ignorant, cruel human being.
that’s right. this moi. christmas can eat it. this is an old school drinking situation - secretly going to my room to take shots and then come back out, trying to act normal and chewing gum. except in my really sad tomato days, i would listen to velvet underground loaded over and over again, drinking myself into a stupor.
luckily my phone is dead and i can’t find the charger, or we would be in sad text message territory.
i have decided that i will go to that goddamn party only if jen is attending. i am not kidding - i will make up an illness to get out of that shit. i do not care if i promised rachel i would bring something.
jen is perhaps the best friend i’ve made there. sure, she may be over the top, loud and manic. but she is also funny and loyal, and i can be myself around her and relax. i know i’d have a better time if she were there. she will also be a wonderful buffer, because while i adore her lunacy (most of the time), he hates her. and vice versa.
so then i won’t have to deal with it all day long. i can just drink and be weird and not have a care in the world.
"bob dylan said that, when he was young, he had a secret sense of his destiny. i wish i had something like that, but i didn’t. at all. all i had was an aching sense of desperation and an acute cluelessness - a nasty combination. i didn’t have any idea what the hell i was doing, and was only doing it out of not knowing what else to do."
"the books are there to remind us what asses and fools we are. they’re caesar’s praetorian guard, whispering as the parades roll down the avenue, "remember, caesar, thou art mortal." most of us can’t rush around, talking to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven’t time, money or that many friends. the things you’re looking for, montag, are in the word, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine percent of them is in a book. don’t ask for guarantees. and don’t look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for the shore."
"i have found it easier to identify with the characters who verge upon hysteria, who were frightened of life, who were desperate to reach out to another person. but these seemingly fragile people are the strong people really."
just heard kings of leoncloser on the radio. i listened to them a lot, a lot, a lot back in the day. some songs just triggers memories, and/or feelings.
part of me still kind of likes that song, even though it represents another odd time in my life. 2008-2009, i was involved with a guy struggling with a heroin addiction. he was a few months sober when i met him, and it didn’t come up immediately. even when it did, i had a warped view of what it would mean to get involved with him. i liked him too much at that point to be smart.
i had gotten over the end of my friendship with anna. i was using some drugs recreationally - nothing close to heroin. i had gotten rejected by this other guy. then james came along. coincidentally, my brother was on the verge of his own decline, but no one (myself included) was paying close enough attention. it was a very strange time.
james was tattooed, italian and somewhat wild but very good-looking and smart and incredibly sweet to me. he was also a punk, and in love with bouncing souls. i seem to repeatedly get involved with guys who have some obsessive love of music i’m not a huge fan of. he was slightly intense, too, wanting to talk to me every day right from the beginning.
he relapsed twice in the time i knew him. the first time, he went to stay with a relative out of state and got treatment. we stayed in touch. the second and last time was the worst. for reasons i’m still not sure about, he came home early and ended up at friend’s house and started using. i had no idea he was home and called him that night, but he didn’t answer the phone. then he sent me a message saying that he was using. i freaked out and called him about 12 times in a few hours and a girl finally answered and yelled at me, telling me to leave james alone, that i had no idea what was going on, all this other shit.
it broke my heart. james called me the next day apologising, saying the girl was some random, the whole night was out of control, and i hung up on him. what he was saying, even the sound of his voice made something feel shut down in my chest. eventually i caved and talked to him, and he told me he was going to a treatment facility in florida. he wanted to see me before, and try to keep in touch, and i said no, that basically i never wanted to hear from him again. i couldn’t sleep for days after that. i would cry in the bathroom at work because i felt like he could die, and i had walked away from him. but i had enough.
i mean, he had all these friends that just loved him to death that were trying to help him - everyone just adored this guy - and he had this good family, and at that point, he couldn’t help himself. i wouldn’t have been able to save him - i was only getting hurt. i regretted my choice sometimes, but that’s life, eh?
for the record, i have heard from people who know him, and he is sober and doing fine.
“the calcium in your bones came from a star. we are all made from recycled bits and pieces of the universe. this matters because origins matter.
for example, if you were born to a reigning monarch but kidnapped by the black market baby underground shortly after birth and sent to america where you were raised by common, unremarkable people from ohio, and when you were in your thirties working as a humble ups driver, dignitaries landed their helicopter on the roof of your crummy apartment building and informed you of their thirty-plus year search for you, His Royal Highness, the course of your life might change.
our familial genetic origins -medical histories- inform us of medical conditions which exist in our families and when we know about these specific conditions, we can sometimes take certain actions to prevent them.
which is why i think it’s important to consider that billions of years before we were students and mothers and dog trainers and priests, we were particles that would form into star after star after star until forever passed, and instead of a star what formed was life; simplistic, crude, miraculous.
i have an abundance of free time right now, and it can get me down a little bit. i like keeping busy - i am a naturally restless person with poor impulse control. being bored has often gotten me in trouble in the past.
i’ve been baking a lot. i like creating something that other people can enjoy. if it’s sitting around for too long, however, i will feel obligated to eat like, all of it.
i’ve also discovered that watching shows like disappeared or who killed me? on the i.d. channel actually lightens my mood a little. i don’t enjoy the idea of people being tortured or killed - sometimes it is so truly gruesome/disgusting that i want to smash my television in horror. but the mystery element sucks me in. whenever i make it through one of these shows, i’m always thinking at the end, “well, my life is not great, but at long as no one is actively trying to kill/maim/rape/torture me or anyone i love. things are looking up.”
this morning i was looking online for job listings, and i found one for crime scene technician. the pay is not bad. you know you are not in the best place, or perhaps fully awake, if you read this job description
we get calls at all hours and must be able to go on a moment’s notice.
this entails cleaning suicides, homicides, unattended deaths, and hoarding situations. please reply only if you know you can handle these situations.
and you think at first, ‘sure, it would be hard at first, but you build up a tolerance. what about those girls in sunshine cleaning? that had to be a somewhat accurate idea of real world scenarios. they had a life affirming experience.’
but then you drink some more coffee and remember that you almost passed out last week when eddy cut his finger and left a trail of blood on the floor and you had to go outside and run in tiny circles to stop freaking out as someone mature and level-headed stopped the bleeding and wrapped his finger like a boss. never mind all the times you pass roadkill, accidentally get a good look at the carnage, and spend the next 15 minutes screaming internally.
“Individuals live in a society that provides them with ready-made patterns that pretend to give meaning to their lives. In our society, for instance, they are told that to be successful, to be a “bread winner,” to raise a family, to be a good citizen, to consume goods and pleasures gives meaning to life. But while for most people this suggestion works on the conscious level, they do not acquire a genuine sense of meaningfulness, they do not make up for the lacking center within themselves. The suggested patterns wear thin and with increasing frequency fail. That this is happening today on a large scale is evidenced by the increase in drug addiction, by the lack of genuine interest in anything, in the decline of intellectual and artistic creativity, and in the increase of violence and destructiveness.”—Erich Fromm (via cultureofresistance)
b: thanks, charlotte, you too. take care. i’ll see you soon.
there is something seriously wrong with me. i received his response maybe 5 minutes later, i read it and immediately started crying a little bit, mumbling to myself, “he doesn’t care at all. ‘see you soon’? he won’t see me for a month!! this is the kind of message you send to some looney basically meaning, ‘why are you texting me?’”
ugh. luckily i started laughing about my insanity on the way home. it is funny the way my mind works. overall, it doesn’t mean anything. it is what it is. a polite response, and there’s no point in reading anything into it. just have to move on.
"…i came to a sad conclusion about him. i said to myself: "if you allow yourself to love that man, you will be the unhappiest creature on this earth. with your temperament, you will expect some response whereas this man scarcely looks at you, talks of nothing but dolls, and pays more attention to any other woman than yourself. you are too proud to complain, therefore, attention, please, and keep on a leash any affection you might feel for this gentleman; you have yourself to think about, my dear girl." this first scar made upon my impressionable heart remained with me forever; never did this firm resolution leave my head; but i took good care not to tell anybody that i had resolved never to love without restraint a man who would not return this love in full; such was my disposition that my heart would have belonged entirely and without reserve to a husband who loved only me."
catherine the great, portrait of a woman, robert k. massie
if i represent the one who did this to you, then can away the part that represents the thing that scarred you
this is my maternal grandmother. to say she had a long-lasting negative impact on my mother would be the understatement of my time here on earth.
i knew her briefly as a child. i talked to her sister, my great-aunt, when my grandfather was dying in the hospital, and she actually told me that emma (gm) was not welcome in her house ever again, just as standard policy.
does she look horrible here? she looks pretty. you’d never think there was a strict, unyielding tyrant living behind that face. something made her like that. i mean, she wasn’t born wanting to hit children and dominate grown men. her father supposedly was a drunk. her family lived on a farm, there were 9 children - she was somewhere in the middle and apparently cried every time a new baby appeared. surprisingly, none of her siblings grew to like her very much at all. but no one ever openly came out and said, “well, of course emma is like this. this happened, and that..”. no explanation.
hilariously, she lived her life believing, or at least telling everyone that she was 100% german. yep, she was one of those kindhearted racist grandmothers. we did a genealogy test for my mother one year just out of curiousity.
it turns out the maternal family line has very strong jewish roots.
young one, look at me, it's not your beast to leash, oh don't hold more than you can stand to carry
i went to the party last night, and it was odd at best. i did take a shot before i went in to try and settle some of my twitchiness. it did not work that well.
rachel made me wear a santa hat, which i actually did not mind. i don’t take myself seriously, so why would i give a fuck? then that lauren girl came in. i don’t know about you, but if i don’t know someone, and they are sitting there, smiling just in general and wearing a santa hat, i would not look at that person with a sour expression and then proceed to ignore them. it’s not the best first impression to make. honestly, i was already inclined not to like this chick, but come on. that shit is not kind. i also like him less for being associated with someone like that.
then i found out chris had gotten sacked due to budget problems, which hurt my heart. i’ve known him for 5 years now, and he’s grown on me. sure, he may come from a wealthy family that helped him buy a $30,000 car, and he may be something of a dick half of the time. but no one who has worked at a job successfully for 10 years should be blindsided like that.
i only got mildly harassed by two old men who had been drinking. one wasn’t so bad, but i did get hugged unexpectedly and kissed on the ear. the other hugged me and crowded my space to the point that i was just sitting on the edge of my chair. i hate it i hate it i hate it. i don’t hug people i barely know normally, especially random men around my father’s age, and around the holidays, it just seems like a free-for-all. after awhile, i just started cringing as soon as anyone with a rosy face approached me.
i did enjoy myself at some points. one of my favorite moments was evan telling me he’d wipe away my tears with his fists after i broke a wine glass and tried to blame him. and there were many different desserts. i managed to (mostly) stay out of the sad tomato place, and i did not drink for the rest of the night.
to sum up the feeling of the evening: i cannot believe i am coming back for another year of this shit.
"when he told his humorous stories, henry whitney marveled, "he emerged from his cave of gloom and came back, like one awakened from sleep, to the world in which he lived, again." his storytelling, speed believed, was, "necessary to his very existence - most men who have been great students such as he was in their hours of idleness have taken to the bottle, to cards or dice - he had no fondness for any of these - hence he sought relaxation in anecdotes." lincoln himself recognized that humor was an essential aspect of his temperament. he laughed, he explained, so he did not weep. he saw laughter as the "joyous, universal evergreen of life." his stories were intended "to whistle off sadness."
modern psychiatry regards humor as probably the most mature and healthy means of adapting to melancholy. “humor, like hope, permits one to focus upon and to bear what is too terrible to be borne,” writes george valliant. “humor can be marvelously therapeutic,” adds another observer. “it can deflate without destroying; it can instruct while it entertains; it saves us from pretensions; and it provides an outlet for feeling that expressed another way would be corrosive.”