2004-03-27 - 6:51 p.m.

fat is not a feeling, so what am i really pheeling?

i'm feeling *FUCKED* cuz i'm so fat.

i'm pretty regular, theoretically, some call it thin. not that, i eat diet cokes and twizzlers thin shit. but just ...normalish.

who cares.

exactly.

i wish i could say with ease, who cares. who cares. who cares. but i feel more powerful and confident when thin. right now, out of no where i've gained plumpness.

and what i feel like, is crying, like a total wuss. like a total fuckin sorority girl. and i feel like going to get a special, fully loaded with sugar liquady coffee drink. i feel see-through. i feel like everyone will know that i'm less of me, by being too plump of me.

i know it is a sensation birthed on the inside, but let's not fuck ourselves, thin people get immediate regard. at leeast in this morphed ciudad. how do i take this night and own who i really am, and how much i have to give? how much i have on the inside. how do i own who i really am, when i'm feeling like i'm just not enough.

i wrote a milk pure from the momma's tit piece on this essential feeling. this suddle attempts to innihilate the self, while simulatenously finding reasons to stay. what is that curb we turn that gets us always to stay, and yet still slowly tempt to knock ourselves off. for me those slow murders are more suddle now then the go for broke drinking and chemistry mixing. now it's eating away at myself. now it's running too hard and injuring myself out of hatred. now it's unprotected sex with someone i give a shit about. now it's the constant barking dog ravidly taking chunks of soul from my mind or heart or whatever geographical region we want to deam that space, where "it" all takes place.

so this new friend is coming over and we are doing some westside situational happenings. which is bad of me. that's the real undercurrent adding swift tidal pull to my bad feelings...that i changed plans with the good guy date tonight so i can cruise the 'scene' some more. as if i haven't 'seen' it fucking all.

check out old entries, it catalogs one fourth what i've seen, or been physically tangled in.

but there's this friend's roommate who sounds okay and i saw him before and am interested in seeing if somethings there. always always jumping into someone else's lawn, surely it's more spruce than mine-yo.

i'm fucking burning up in my apartment. how's the weather in ny? you can thaw out here, the heat is melting at the mo.

so in therapuetic news, my team of experts have discovered that the base of all of my problems is this shame. shame manifesting in a million various ways, like the heads of an angry shiva god, ready to rip human heads easily apart from their veiny bodies.

shame, tonight wears itself in these various shades:

shame of fat.

shame of apartment being too messy and i refuse to let friend in.

shame of car being filled with crap and covered in two month old dust.

shame of not being able to drink tonight.

shame that this new friend doesn't know i'm still a massuese, as i've made it slightly seem more in the past tense and have opted to tell her of my twenty more exciting careers, and tonight we are seeing friend's who are clients.

cover.

blown.

that should wrap up my current "shame spiral."

here's clutch knowledge. i secretly know that said friend also feels a wealth of internal perfectionist pressure and some slant on shame to be sure. i know most humans do. i just know that she gets to chase it all away with some red wine. and i get to writh away in it for the during of my sitting, impatiently in my skin. that is why i'm in such pursuit of my impulses. to satiate the noise, to distract the hammsters wheel in my head long enough for some "high," some inebriation and ease. if only receiving ease through utter outward caos of putting myself in dangerous situations. like my compulsions to go to downtown LA in the middle of the night alone. or choosing to walk the dark alley instead of the street or parting the sea of homeless heard instead of others avoidance tactics. i enjoy the fierocity of the flame that ignites anyother syapses in my head than those that currently cycle themselves mad in my exhausted mind.

i'll let you know how the evening upfolds, as i'm always perplexed by this moment of before...sitting here not knowing what will happen, yet if a few weak hours i will. here. there. linear.

on the plate: two art openings, one other possible afterparty, and my friends who are having friends over for "drinks".