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02.28.03 . 10:06 a.m.
95: this is sort of about you, this is sort of about me

things that don't really go together:

See, I think its like this. Or I think it is one way and then it isn't, but what it isn't doesn't matter so much because I'm just as likely to get my facts mixed up when I'm sober as when I've been drowning my memories.

i think if i were to meet God, if I were to ignore my skepticism and every question I have, ignore every philosophical debate and idea I'm unable to articulate, I'd put the physical idea of his hand on the third rib of my left side and ask if he could just make something out of me that would be safe. And Iím not sure if Iíd ask for a man or a woman. "Dear God, give me a third option or something."

women are this softness and this feeling of knowing what to expect, of a calm amongst the heavy breathing and it hurts more to find out that no, our wires do not mesh, the synapses are not the same and our bodies donít even have anything in common. And men are. Men are. fuck. I donít know, men are the protection that I want and a solidness and tenseness like a bird caged or the sky before a tornado. I want men more than I want women.

(Dear boy, Iíd like to hear from you.)

My rib hurts at night; i've switched the side of the bed I sleep on and I feel like iím sleeping on a ghost.

i wonder about life on other planets, I think about the book and the movie Contact and the line that goes something like Ďit would be an awful waste of space.í About how our scientific evaluations and ideas are limited to what we can prove and how there is probably so much more outside of the evolutionary process weíve gone through. Just because we couldnít inhabit something doesnít mean thereís nothing there, we just donít know how to see it yet. Just because you canít touch something doesnít mean it isn't there, just because you feel something doesnít make it true. This is something I have to remind myself of... every few minutes.

I get drunk and wave my arms around and talk about the fall of the earthís ecosystem, that human society is pressing self destruct and there wonít be room or resources for everything soon. So what will we do? Will we have the technology to find another place for our bodies to live and how do we make the decision to push ourselves into another planets process, even if all thatís visible are rocks and trees. I make people uncomfortable - they don't like to be around me very much.

(I donít leave the apartment very much anymore.)

I rehash the last two years and it upsets my friends that I don't want to hang out as much, that I would rather drink vodka and sit on amps than feel the weight of my decisions. It upsets my mother that she couldnít make something for me that felt safe enough when i was a teenager, so instead I ran off into the dark and the dirt.

(I am trying so hard to be interesting for all 20-something of you, but maybe I should just take off my shirt instead.)

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