2003-04-17 - 7:39 p.m.

my cat has worms and that is the way life is.

love disconnects and beings get worms and other malfunctions mis-stepped from perfection.

and i'm really sad. and angry.

and i know i'm sick cuz i'm drinking salad dressing. dude, annie's goddess dressing, you'd do it to.

my heart hurts so bad. i feel like we are all just totally incapable of loving and connection in a partnership type way.

my friend called from nyc, he walked out on his lady. surfer derelic's out on me.

i feel further away from the picket fence than i did years ago, when i was young and supposedly too far from marriage. now i feel miles and years and walls apart.

a part.

i can barely figure out how to take care of a cat, more less the distant thought that a kidlet would be depending on me. nursing from me. maybe some people who are fringe walkers, who dance on the outside, just remain there for life.

granted, all seems normal. but i can't help from feeling completely broken all the fuckin time. i have intervals of relief related to outside success, but my insides feel in a spin.

and i know i just get like this. my perspective sinks. slithers down deep into some punctured place.

fuck it all.

i know my life is good. my bills are currently paid. life is generally full. and the things people said about me last night are so touching and amazing. to see myself for a second in anothers eyes offer relief. and yet i'm trapped behind bars in my mind of perpetuating a sensation that i've failed. that i'm not good enough.

and i won't blame it on my grandma, the purveyer and originator of some sick concept of success and happiness coming only from marriage and money. she's saying to me on the phone after i'm saying everything is great blabla bla...that i hope something goes right for you. as if i'm in some dumpy life. and everything isn't enough. god damn it!! just becuz some choose some sick republican life of marriage at 23 and money and then go and pop pills and cheat and i choose the fuck not to. i don't even vaguely relate.

but that means i'm a failure. and she's shoked that i have something to do at easter. like she can't believe i actually have friends and am not lonely. fucking kidding me? i have too many friends. i flake on them, i have too many. i have layers of friends and yes i have easter plans and i'd rather die then spend the time with 'family' in sufferable san diego. the most militaristic, republican place you go to die.

but i pressed her, when she said, i just hope it gets better and i saw that she was speaking about her own lonliness and hopelessness. gramps is gone. that's what there is to believe. the concept of gone. but really maybe he's just somewhere else. or we are gone and now he is.

we are gone and now he is.

so i can't take her to heart, but it has ruined my entire mood and now i feel like my job, my life, my unhurried, unmarriaged life is a complete experiment in failure. not that i have projects being pitched or that i'm courageous enough to follow my dreams or that i pursuit happiness on real levels, not fluffy country club ones.

and ya know what? i give. i do feel lonli tonight. with the surfer gone i'm left with my quiet self. i hate tv and i'm in between books. and there's only so much work i can do deep into the night.

i can meditate, write, chill. i might force myself to yoga tonight just so i'm in a new four walled space with other foreign objects.

i want ease of the mind.

i want acceptance of my life, not a sad acceptance but a fufilling one.

but what i feel like doing is eating brownies till i'm ready to spew them out every cell and watch a crap movie that won't remind me of anything threatening.

sorry all i had for ya is muddy waters.

do you know muddy waters? he was a 'po black musician' who had twenty thousand times the talent than those white leeches that made millions off him.