Taking out wood and wire,

Poor Clay.

Aw, I'm really trying to help him through this.

It helps that I've been through this shit too.

Cheating bastards.

It's kicked in--- when I sleep, it's night terrors, but I don't sleep at all most of the time. I dream about things I should not dream about: churches, white flags, corsets, truces, tweakers, the devil, collapsing lungs. My hands are shaking. I was told it's probably the DT's, stop drinking, stop drinking before bed. Dylan Thomas died drunk in St. Vincent's hospital, you know. --- It was winter, though, and that is when the snow is bitter. Now there is only the sun like a wound, or tornadoes with rain to put out my cigarettes.

Something is agitation--- pure agitation, like coals pressed into my head. I cannot put my finger on what it is. I listen to The Cure, I listen to Sex Gang Children, I listen to Crass, I listen to Christian Death, I listen to the Cramps, I listen to the Mountain Goats and none of it changes anything. Still there are coals, agitation, frustration, but no roots. I read the bible, I read Dostoevsky, I read books written by Henry Rollins and William Gibson. None of it changes anything. I hate Keats, I love Oates; I hate Frost, I love cummings; I don't care for Whitman but you know, Naruda is alright, if it's one I haven't read before. Bly is pretentious, but he's good at what he does--- why isn't this changing anything?

I drink coffee six times a day, or not at all. It doesn't change anything, either. Most always, I take it black, sometimes I take it with cream; never sugar. Sometimes I put whiskey in it. Once I broke a coffee cup in an alley, and I have a scar on my boots from it. I am looking for a new job, but I love my old one. I wish I had been born a few months prior, I would move out and never touch college. No, I wouldn't. I would hop trains and hitchhike and come right back because I would be lonely and those who are jaded never stop being jaded and I am one of them.

That is true, and also, people grow to be evil and there is no way around that, but perhaps they are born good; I heard an argument for that once, and it made sense to me. Regardless of the way we started, we end up pieces of shit. People kill each other, has that ever occured to you? A lot of times for no reason. California is a shithole. I've only been there once, and I know that, but maybe I have been reading too much. It doesn't matter. People are shitstains and I hate most of them, because I am just like all the other shitheads, and that is the part that hurts the most. I am just like every other asshole on this planet. Maybe worse.

The Serenity Prayer is the only prayer in the Bible that I like, and the only reason I ever paid any attention to it was because it was in a Nick Cave song.

I am not sad. I am bitter. Aren't they different?

Stop drinking, stop drinking before bed.

Fuck you, I'm a writer.

Fuck you, I don't want to just smoke Parliament cigarettes and wait to die. I don't want to wait to die, even if nothing ever changes.

Altered my journal layout.

Source for the image is keiththompsonart.com

He's a fucking badass.

The four of us are doing what we always do--- Clay, Danielle, Khundy and I are kyping shit from a King Soopers, snagging a bottle of wine, and going on another picnic =]

I'm starting to really like this routine.

I wish I had my own house.

I would like time to myself like that--- to sleep alone in a house and know what it's like to be lonely. I need that.

I'm starting to need more and more space, excluding the company of Clay. It's not a bad thing, but happens all the time to me now. that might be a good thing. Not as much separation anxiety or whatever it is.

I need more intellectual stimulation from somebody, though--- someone to turn my worlds upside-down with their views on the human condition, whether people are inherantly good or bad, etc. I NEED that, and I can't find it right now. Which is okay, I can't have that kind of stimulation always, and it was a bad thing for me to be accustomed to, but hell.

Today, Ben Tregambo spilled two milkshakes, a few glasses of water, and a pitcher of coffee on me and my stuff, so he didn't charge me for the coffee I ordered. It was rad, but the whole scene may have been somewhat embarrassing for him. We left a rad tip.


Did I mention that I finished my Cinema Strange shirt? I gave the stencil to Micah as a white flag, through Clay, but he refused to see me, which was lame. He was being a real dick about it, making up excuses. I'm not used to being avoided, or a grudge being held against me. This kind of awkwardness between friends is starting to freak me out, because honestly I thought he was over it (I am) and I wouldn't mind being friends again, but he has a real mental block against it. Maybe it's for the better--- maybe I want something from him, still, and I don't need that kind of split feeling right now. I don't want to think that its true, but maybe it is. Clay says it probably is, and I trust him. I'm just happy in my current relationship and I don't want to admit that something may compromise it, in theory. Sometimes you just have to let go, even if the friendship is worth fighting for.

Last night, Clay, DJ, Khundy and I sat on the front porch and played guitar for an hour before we went to Shaun's to party in honor of Judy Ehlers. (the conversation I had with Greg broke my heart about it--- his MOTHER, for fuck's sake. . ) it was cool--- Clay bought a bass! He has his own amp and everything, we make music together and DJ plays the piano, it's so cool.

Anyway. . . yeah.

Kana called me earlier to let me know that Billy Mays is dead.

Goodnight, sweet prince.

(I just took a shot in his honor.)

My boss was being a dickhole today.

I'm learning Whiskey is my kinda Lullaby on the guitar. It's hard for me, but fun.

When clay gets home, he's taking a shower and then we're going to go off to the funeral. I'm nervous to view her. I don't remember what it's like to see someone that you loved dead in a coffin. It's going to be hard.

Other than that, no news.

BALLS

Good day. Work, then Paris, then Khundy, then home; tomorrow is the Sidewalk Sale (yay!) and. . . yeah. Some shit. Judy's funeral is tomorrow. . . I don't know if I can see her. I can't. . . fuck ass, it still hits hard.

Clay's hanging out with Micah; he just made up every excuse in the WORLD not to see me. micah, I mean. Fuck it, I think it's hilarious.
I finally made my Cinema Strange shirt; it looks rad, I gave the stencil to Micah even though he's being a fuck because he'd actually use it. I almost ripped it and said OOPS but I'm not that much of an asshole. Even though he's a manipulative ratbastard. I've been real pissed at that faggot lately. He's being a fuck, but I figured the stencil could pose as a white flag? He's the one acting like he's 12.

But the shirt looks real fucking good.

UGH. FUCK THIS SIGN.

It's like over 9000 feet big. Fuck.

I RESTRUNG MY GUITAR. Playing it feels like coming home.

Also, since Clay works at Whole Foods, he gets health benefits and a 401K--- DJ and I determined that he can't be punk if he has a 401K.

If you put metal inside of a man, he can work much faster than you can: with a toothpick, a pen-knife, a can-opener.

Rasputina kick, shoplifting kick. I haven't paid for shit in days, and it feels good (this excludes books, and anything from my job--- or any other family-owned personal business. Well, sort of. In theory, not necessarily in practice with that last one.)

Blast from the past, I am telling you.

I am going to go take a BATH. With BATH SALT. AND RASPUTINA.

FUCKS

CLAY JUST DIAGNOSED IT:
I HAVE A BRO-CRUSH ON DANIELLE. (Lol, bromance. xD)

FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU.

Also, the game.

I went on a wonderful escape with Suki and Sarah to the nicest hotel in the world up in Boulder--- four stars? Five? that place was absolutely incredible. It was really nice, even though I pretend to resent Boulder. I kyped a bunch of bullshit; new pins for my hat and some beads and stuff. Bought one thing; a book. Dostoevsky, again: The Gambler. Fuck off. I dig him. That bookstore was a dream come true. No cash register, books piled all over the floor and up to the ceiling, fucking everywhere.

I got Black Coffee Blues the other day. I can't wait to read it.

Fuck ass I love books. I need Another Roadside Attraction back-- I was talking to DJ and she said that she'd already lent Micah that book before I did, a really worn-out copy of it where mine was brand new and he hadn't returned either. I like how he didn't tell me that. Dickhead. If he's not going to read it, he really ought to give it back. I don't remember if I ever finished it. He has two copies of it, for god's sake, one for the two women he ought to regret leaving because we're the only fucking smart ones, apparently. (His loss xD)

Krod tub. Lol.

Clay's an ass. He got a job paying 10 bux an hour washing dishes at Whole Foods. What a faggot.

GROUP SEX, WILD IN THE STREETS--- RECKLESS ABANDON!

Today was rad. Khundy and I went shopping. xD I got a Death shirt (The Sandman. You're all faggots and probably have no idea what I'm talking about) and I never realized that Death really looks a lot like Siouxsie. I also got an Iggy Pop shirt and a Jack Daniels shirt. Buffalo Exchange ftw, and Khundy bought me this rip-your-balls-off-it's-so-badass spider ring that opens up in the back for the poison at a shop near there. You know? And. . . I got a little lobster and another cockroach for jewelry at the other store.

Yesterday I hung out with Drew. I almost cried when his mother gave me a hug. . . I miss his parents a lot. And him too, I guess, but we most certainly don't fit anymore. Not like I was considering it or anything, just. . . eck. He is an ass and he'd do better as my brother at this point, we argue so much.
BUt I really do miss Sue and John. Like, a whole assload.

Clay and Danielle and Khundy and I love picnic-ing.
50 cent Jimmy Johns , along with an avocado, a salt grinder, a lime, brie, and grapes casually requisitioned from a King Soopers. Apparently we intend to do this a lot.

Clay's actually at DJ's right now; eh, we both have work tomorrow. I want to bond some more with that girl.

Also, I bet you ten bux they finally fuck tonight.

ROMANCE IS FOR CHILDREN. GO MAKE ME A SANDWICH.

Did I tell you I continue spraypainting Awesome Face's in her neighborhood?

. . . . You know, as an overthought, I think I might like Danielle almost as much as Clay does. Non-romantically, of course.
This morning, she said, "You know, I always really liked you and I'm so glad we're friends and that you're here."
I told her, "You have every reason in the world to resent me and I am so glad that you do not."
"No, believe me--- I was so pissed at him, I remember thinking, 'Damnit! That girl was so cool, right when I thought I'd finally made a female friend, he steals her away from me!' I wasn't ever mad at you."

It was cool. And her house is rad, a tiny studio apartment, with no bedroom, even. I asked if she ever got tired living alone, she said yes--- tired, and bored, but never sad and only occasionally lonely. It's the first place she's had by herself.

When she got out of highschool four years ago, she ran away and hitch-hiked and lived with gypsies and crust punks and homeless people for a year. She told me all these crazy ass stories--- I'm just surprised she repaired her relationship with her parents.

Never hopped a train though; she thinks it's too dangerous (she saw someone's leg get ripped off once, IRL). Next summer, I'm making her hop one with me.

Three hours of sleep; Clay and I spent the night at Danielle's. We ended up taking all of the acid (lol, 54 dollars, all seven hits) between the three of us. Clay barely tripped even though he took the most, and Danielle and I stayed up and talked. Khundy snuck out of his house at 1 AM to come ride the lightrail and visit me and stayed the night. (Holy balls, I love the boy.)

It was nice. Probably won't ever do it again, but it was fun and we needed the experience.

"I AM GOING TO MASTICATE YOUR ELBOW. I WILL MASTICATE YOUR WEENIS."
"Clay, that's like. . . rapification."
"MASTIFICATION. . . . *giggle* . . . I WILL MASTIFICATE YOUR WEENIS. TURN THEM INTO DOGS. LARGE, STATELY AND AUSTERE DOGS. Woof! I LOVE YOU! Woof! WHY DON'T YOU EVER WRITE ME?! Woof! I'M SEEING SOMEONE ELSE."

Etc. It was a nice, chill and fun time. Very silly. Danielle and I bonded quite a bit and got very close. The three of us talked of old times and some other, uninteresting shit happened. It was wonderful and it'd been a couple of years since we'd done anything that irresponsible, all three of us. It was wonderful. We listened to Silent Hill music all night and giggled and smoked and caught moths.

Now I am extremely tired. Clay and I just watched Reno 911 for a very, very long time and now we're both just relaxing in our beds.

Weekend plans might have gotten shot. Fuck.
Either way, though, some fun shit will go down. I'm sure. We'll make it so!
Clay doesn't want to go because DJ wanted to attend a recital and he will not go camping without her.

I have work in three hours, but I think I will continue writing terrible songs and trying to make them a little better.

Last night, I had to sleep in the family room because there was a spider on my ceiling and I apparently still cannot kill them (or be around them!). Drew would be happy about that, eh.

I love my grandfather--- he's got this real quiet way about him. I just caught him reading the newspaper over prune juice (seriously!) and he commented to me about how many words there are in the Russian language as opposed to the English--- it's a heavy difference--- and then he talked to me about politics, but in this really quiet way. Just. . . as if things happen the way that they happen, and he knows he's not around for much longer so he simply absorbs them and takes everything at face value, without being fierce about it.

I'm really glad that they have come to visit.

Lol.
Clay and I just bought seven hits from a source we trust on a whim. We are going to have the best weekend (ever!)

It's been nearly a year since Clay and I have experimented with anything.

HearseCon was AWESOME. So many hearses. . . .
Cynthia looked awesome, and she and I and Clay just dicked around during Jamie's wedding. It was funny, and ironic; Cynthia caught the bouquet. (She and Jamie also "broke up" as friends over a guy--- the guy Jamie married, actually. Four years of friendship down the toilet just 'cause Cynthia didn't think he was good for her, judging the fact that he's 33, she's twenty, and he has a long criminal record and a history of domestic abuse, and also came on to Cyn way back early in his and jamie's relationship) and we just did debaucheral things to it. I am shooting it during a picture. Some pictures are up.

Hahaha:
"Dude. That's the guy she's marrying?"
"Yeah."
"Dude. . . what a tool."
"And he's ugly, too!"
"Yeah. . . well. . . their children sure won't be attractive."
"God, no. . . oh, jesus!"
"What?"
"They're both tools, they shouldn't be getting married!"
"Wait. Yes they should! They're perfect."
"They shouldn't. . . breed."
". . . You're right. . . their family will be like a toolbelt."
"Jesus! Absolutely! Their house will be a toolshed!"
"Is a toolbelt a family, or more like, you know, the global belt-thing? You know, that spreads across several states, and is just full of tools?"
"God, I don't know. I'm trying to hold back my snickers, shh. I want them to hear my muffled, bitter and scornful laughs."


It was TERRIBLE. But hilarious.


Oh man, today was really good too, though. I went on a picnic in the rain with Khundy, Clay, and Danielle. We drank wine straight from the bottle and ate some fancy ass cheese and shit. It was awesome. Then we dicked around some more, and Danielle and Clay had to go so Khundy and I went back to his place to warm up (it was chilly!) and watched Amelie. But then. . . we got a bit distracted, and when we were leaving, his oldest sister said to him (she thought I was out of earshot), "Wow. She's a screamer, she's really loud. . ."
Oh, I almost died, it was so embarrassing. I don't care about his sisters, but his parents? what if his parents hear us?
Fuck! I need to learn to be more. . . quiet.
I'm really, really. . . upset about it, but I think it's kind of funny, too.

Hearse convention. Yeah. That's right.

My friend Cynthia invited me (Jamie's getting married there. lol. To a rapist. Lol. She deserves it. Lololololol) and I can't WAIT to go. She's a hearse girl, though, and I can't do the same. lame.

Ew, gross though. Clay invited Micah. That part I don't mind, but we think he's going to bring Thera, and quote Clay: "Oh! SHIT! I forgot that they're all disgustingly co-dependent. . . well, I'll just tell him I'd like everyone there to be capable of intelligent conversation."

Clay's a dick. xD BUT! He's going to dress up like a droog, and I'm just going to psychobilly it out as far as the eye can see. I have work in twenty minutes, though. Shit. I better get on that. I get off at 3:30 today, which is a MIRACLE. It's not 7:30 oh thank GOD my boss is a family man.

Sunday, I'm having my picnic in Wash Park with Khundy and a bottle of wine and a blanket. It should be lovely.

Annie called me hahahaha. I told her that I would have coffee with her on Wednesday. I might. . . but I'd rather hang out with Sarah.

During my breaks, I read Dostoevsky and smoke in front of Myxed Up. No joke. I'm in the middle of The Idiot, and (Suki would like this especially) at least twice as good as Crime and Punishment. It's fucking. . . genius. But anyway, Rob thinks it's hilarious. . . because he reads a lot of Ann Rice. xD

DEAR GOD
HEARSE CON