10.18.09

me: david wojnarowicz has me thinking about my mortality so insanely

8 minutes

8:00 PM Joe: In what direction? Insane mortality can take you to a lot of places...

8:02 PM me: his ability to articulate how meaningful it all is and how conversely and simultaneously meaningless is pretty unbelivable

plus watching the progression from a cavalier highly sexualized young person to a dying individual is profound

8:03 PM your journals are important joe

i always thought they were over the top

but they're not

8:04 PM
Joe: ...which ones are you referring to? Over the top?

8:05 PM me: like, i always thought it was extreme how intent you were upon documenting your life through your journals

but it's not

Joe: I feel like I do a pretty pathetic job of actually writing in my journal - but in theory I think it's very, very important

8:10 PM me: there's this great passage in teh book where one of david's friends dies and after the memorial they go back to his house and david lies out all the photos of the man who dies on the floor and he's with kiki smith and they try to put on this albumand waltz to dance for the dead but david keeps tripping over her feet so they seperate for a second and then kiki puts her hands in the air and they start spinning and spinning and spinning

and laughing and falling

8:11 PM Joe: Is it making you want to write?

8:12 PM Edit the arc of your narrative?

me: of course

it makes me want to pin down experiences

and hold them to something

8:13 PM some plateau of meaning

and then at the same time just not hold anything to any idea of truth or sigifigance but just spin around alot and see what happens

8:14 PM it makes me feel alone

and it's good

2.15-2.22 (Various Excerpts from my CA Journal)

It's really hot here and I'm scared I'm going to get fried alive. If my feet get sunburned it'll be bad.

I tried to eat an orange but it had too many seeds.

Sunday was Valentine's Day. I think I'm getting pretty good at exorcising drama from my life. Didn't call any of my ex's or any of the guys I'm currently fucking.

I guess if sex stops being about this mutual knowledge it becomes as perfunctory as procreation and that's boring.

I think my parents are shrinking. Which in and of itself is sort of strange.

Things I could do with my Life:

1. Become a Professor

2.Start a music publicity company

3. Organize Events

4. Move to the middle of nowhere and become a recluse

5.Do art advising

Day 2: 9:30am

Awaiting toothpaste. Didn't get too sunburned. Phone is perpetually dying. Managed to sneak around smoking cigs when I woke up. Took a shit and a shower. Sitting outside, super warm. I think my allergies are bothering me. Dreamt of y last night. Super weird. Maybe I'm dreaming of a domesticity I don't know how to access. I think I'll write alot today.

2.21

Kind of cold to write but I will. Sitting on the corner of 21st and Valencia in SF. It's raining, listening to Magnetic Fields. Have been trying to see Meg for 3 days, she's totally mia. I dunno, I don't want to care, but I do. Had a pretty nice day walking around. Didn't eat anything, wasn't really hungry. Went out for a super expensive dinner last night. Won't have any money when I get back.

Money and food are boring.

It's pretty moody here- cold and rainy. The city feels real but lacks. Can't explain it? I could but that's boring too. I bought Alaina an old man zine, spying on senior citizens or something.

Is my writing becoming akin to one long awful text message?