| The shape of things |
[21 Aug 2004|04:38pm] |
I'm stretching...
I'm talking about gossip, little petty things about drama to her. Who is maybe liking who, who is makes glances and who is mad at the other person.
Why?
Well I wanted to get her excited with me. I wanted to talk about something here and not there. Something that we both share or can share while she's still miles away.
She caught it though. Why was I starting or perpetuating things? Why am I creating drama or talking more about it?
Ok here's the freud...
Truthfully I just wanted to talk about something here on the phone that we can agree and build on. Telephone conversations are hard for me sometimes. I wish I could just talk like I do when the person's there but on the phone I'm stifled, left stale and reaching.
So what's the point...
Nothing. I can't say I just wanted to talk to you about something here. No use in increasing awkwardness about something. So what then? Let it go by. Learn from the mistake and don't do it again.
There's nothing that gets in the way of the heart more than the mind. The thinking and extentions. I'm tired though. I want to not feel nervous about her coming...
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| Come down now |
[21 Aug 2004|02:47pm] |
I haven't written here in awhile so bear with me. I now have a journal made of paper and although I sometimes miss this journal, well I'm opening myself up to different things.
The morning left me hollow and altogether numb. I go through a happiness and sadness in my inability to say the right things over the phone. To convey feelings to display emotions. The day gets wrapped into a ten minute phone conversation and afterwards I feel brilliant or lost. Today I'm just walking around without a clue.
I miss erin. I miss my friend. I miss my girlfriend. I'm nervous about her return. I'm weird about many things.
I've been writing having the hardest time to say I love you and it comes out in the most strange and obscure ways. I call her randomly and tell her I just wanted to call and tell her I loved her. I write letters. I flip through poetry.
I just want to say I love you. I want it to mean something.
I miss us. Maybe that's it cause I wait to talk to her on the phone and then I don't have much to say. I miss us.
Things keep me back you know. I wish I could call and leave certain poems on your machine but then that's cheesy and I feel weird doing it. A short Billy Collins poem. A love sonnet by Neruda.
I sometimes wish you desired me again. You asked for my kisses and said that you can't take this waiting to see me. Or when you demand my hand as we walk down the street. I've always liked that.
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[11 Jun 2004|07:38pm] |
I miss my girlfriend so incredibly much. I miss her smell, her arm around me as I sleep. I miss the way she smiles and how it is almost the same smile in every picture. I miss her studying, her hair, her body. I miss looking at her while she's sleeping and waking up next to her.
I am moving on Tuesday.
My birthday is on the 24th. A thursday.
And all I want is her.
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[29 May 2004|01:28am] |
Tonight I'm sleeping in sweats and sock (not to mention my usual t shirt and boxers). The reason: I want to feel hugged. I miss someone hugging me and without my girlfriend around I'm longing for the closeness to something. Cotton will have to suffice for tonight.
I miss her.
Today I stared at the sky and thought about leaving. I said it to anita.
Me: I want to go.
Anita: Where?
Me: Away.
Truth is I wish I could be going somewhere. Nothing is more disheartening than seeing people buying travel books to places you wish you could be. The whole thing makes days feel long and casts an imaginative eye towards the door.
I want to go. For a week, a couple days, SOMETHING. I know that when I get there I'll want to come back and curse wherever I am. Probably it'll even be on the plane but please please please let me feel the exhileration of GOING SOMEWHERE. Instead of waiting for something to happen, for a wandering idea or change, which more often will frighten my stablizied sensitivity, I could feel like I'm making a change. That I am moving things, whether it is the world, the people, the surroundings or just me. I want to be the person who does.
I'm going to sleep now. I just feel so worthless sometime (frankly this feeling coincidential occurs near birthdays).
A man came up today and said how's it going. I said ahhhhh okay. He said I was just being social.
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[05 May 2004|06:25pm] |
Today, actually less than ten minutes ago, I was walking home and someone yelled from a car Faggot. I kept walking. I didn't know if he was talking to me or someone else but he yelled it again and by this time I'm reaching the door to my place. Now, I'm not gay but I am a thin young white man, which, for some frat boys means gay.
What does this mean though?
Why do people yell obscenities and how come certain words are taboo and others aren't. Faggot is okay to yell. Nigger is not. Dyke is okay. Jew is not. I don't understand and maybe someone can tell me.
Now you may be looking at this and saying it is a choice which, having had friend that are gay I don't believe is true.
Also you may say that Nigger and Dyke are nowhere comparable. But explain this to me. Both are representation of groups that had to earn rights. That have been repressed and percecuted. Yet most people are okay with someone calling someone else a faggot when they hang out. Try this. When you're hanging out with your friends (make sure that someone at the party has called someone a faggot at one point) call someone a nigger. Say it like: You play like a nigger. Or ahh you nigger. Then see what everyone does around. See if it makes an impact.
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| I need to keep writing |
[01 Apr 2004|03:52pm] |
I have been so down on myself about not writing as much as I feel I should. I am currently trying to finish a story and I really should be working on the novel. Maybe after. Today I crazy things happened. I went to an improv class and there was a guy with a hitler mustache. We got in pairs for a mirror exercise. The teacher said one person had to be a leader and the other had to be a follower. Hitler asked to be a leader almost immediately and I almost shit myself.
I need to keep writing.
The house is a mess. I'll clean it tomorrow and finish my story. The time goes by too much. Why haven't I finished the story. Sometimes I suck at personal discipline deadlines.
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[23 Mar 2004|11:02pm] |
I'm not thinking of suicide in any way BUT...
If I were to kill myself I'd hope to do it in the bath. The idea of a bright glowing red against the ivory porcilin would be a magnificent picture. I would even go as far as to clean the tub before.
Take this in contrast to the other more used methods. Jumping off a building? You would hurt not only yourself but maybe someone else plus then you have the person who is now a chalk outline thing going. Also someone has to clean what has to be a horrible mess (although I cannot thing of a suicide method that isn't a terrible cleanup). Jumping from a bridge, ok good on the cleanup but I don't know, it's so blah. I mean, you jump you fall, really people don't even see you or notice and your body is maybe never found. Nothing really IN it. How about the car thing? The mis en scene is horrid. Person in car, probably thrown up, maybe lying back with their head tilted. Also nobody would ever want to drive that car again. No pinash no substance. Gun is only messy and WAY too dramatic. Pills are messy and probably not work. How many times did Sylvia Plath tried to kill herself with pills. Also there's the great Paulo Coelo's book Veronika decides to die that shows one hell of a downside to pills, since they don't always work. Oh the oven looks dumb. Imagine a person with their head in the oven, not the prettiest picture. I'm not saying there should be a Queer Eye for the Suicide Guy but it's your goodbye, make it good.
The only drawback would be the process. You would sit in and watch the blood drift into the water and that could be hard. But I could also see it being quite wonderful watching you return to water in a way. Seeing the cloud of yourself start to form before you look consciousness. Maybe you could see the whole tub turn a brilliant red against the pure white of the bathroom before you died.
Anyway gotta go to bed. Enough morbid thoughts for the night.
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[23 Mar 2004|12:24am] |
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Would you hold it against me if I said I love you again? I mean I've said it once tonight but if I decided that maybe it wasn't enough and that I had to write you again, in a completely separate email nonetheless, and say just the words I love you. Or if I wrote how I ran in the morning and, when I should be thinking of breathing or dogs behind fences or David Bowie (whom I was listening to at the time) I instead thought of you. And I ran past people whom you probably don't know and maybe you'll never meet and they saw me with the light of you in my eyes. This is unnecessary and it's late again and I can't get to sleep and I am sitting on a cold chair in the middle of my room in my boxers but I wanted to say I love you again before I went to sleep. I love you Erin Duncan-O'Neill.
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[21 Mar 2004|04:32pm] |
Hanging around home, wasting time reading Roddy Doyle and trying to write a short story. And yes, whenever the phone rings I want to speak with Erin. I miss her and the worst of it is I'm terrible at phone talk. I want to see her and hang out with her and smell her hair and just have that glow she has around me again.
I watched too much NCAA basketball today. I forgot how I love watching people triumph. I always root for the underdog and seeing UAP beat Kentucky by one point had me jumping up and down. Finley, the man who hit the game winning shot, fell on the bench, put his head on the chair and cried.
I have started to write quotes on notecards for inspiration and hanging them in solitude (the small area with my desk and typewriter). I want to be the writer I want to be. This is my down and out time, my hand to mouth, my time to struggle. I want to be someone who could write well. I want to be what I can.
I have been trying to act the way I should instead of falling back on the futile.
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| BOOM!!!!!! |
[18 Mar 2004|01:19pm] |
When you try to make everyone happy things just get blown up.
How? I'm feeling a little weird today so let's explain in a different manner.
Last night I thought that if Erin didn't go to Italy I would go for a little while and see Guy and see Chase have her baby and set Lena up and then go back. That was Lena is happy because she's set up Guy is happy because he and I get to hang out Chase is happy to see me and Erin is happy to see me during the summer and seeing her friends during the summer as well.
SOUNDS GREAT DOESN'T IT?
Everyone's happy. They are holding hands and spinning while buying the world a coke. Oh wait that's not a coke it's a cokehead with a baseball bat beating my skull in.
So I call Lena last night and leave a message to call me. I call Erin and she is studying which is totally ok and I plan on talking to her about it tomorrow (today). Lena calls me. I say that Erin might not go (she's known this is possible) and she gets mad and says that she'll talk to Erin about it when she shows up tomorrow. I say that's fine and plan on telling Erin tonight about the plan. Erin calls me and asks why she has to deal with Lena calling her getting mad. I call Lena and tell her that all I was going to say was that I could go there and set her up and the plan scenerio detailed up above. Lena says that nobody has sympathy for the stress that this is giving to her.
SO LET'S RECAP.
I have Lena who is mad at Erin and I and freaking out about what she's going to do with her life. I have Erin who is mad at Lena and me for me telling this to Lena and for all this happening immediately before her test and here I am. Screwed beyond all belief. Two people mad at me. Why? Because I tried to find a way for EVERYONE to me happy. The amount to which I am an idiot is overwhelming. CRAZY overwhelming. From now on I'm working on Matt's problems and Matt's problems only. Not only Matt's problems that really doesn't fit but I'm going to STOP trying to help people. It doesn't work. No. Nada. Dummy.
Ok that's it for now. I have to go enlighten children to my knowledge.
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| Jane Says |
[14 Mar 2004|01:33pm] |
Jane's here. She's hanging out with Erin and there's a fluffy warmness between them. I love it when Erin's happy and Jane definitely makes her happy. They're cute together. Last night we got in a argument where I spent too much time talking about something. I was arguing something that was supposed to be ah hell it's confusing me.
I hate it when people say ethnic or sexist slurs but I'm ok when my friend Luis says things against gays I'm completely fine.
Erin hates it when people say ethnic slurs and things against gays but she is ok when people say sexist things to her. (granted they are not VERY sexist)
Jane doesn't mind about ethnic slurs, don't know about the gay slurs and she is ok when people say sexist things to her. (sometimes she even likes it)
So...why am I having an argument about this stuff. Am I having an argument because I really don't like it when people say that kind of stuff or that people say that kind of stuff to my girlfriend.
What kind of stuff? You have a nice ass. Or "you looking nice."
Why did it bug me?
My idea is that people should not be given allowances. The idea that this is their way of showing affection doesn't work for me. People should act how they should.
Sometimes I don't act how I should, but I usually know when I'm doing something I shouldn't.
Many times I do things I shouldn't because I don't care.
I want to be the person who does things he should, not because it is social right, but because it is right with me.
Anyways...
I woke up this morning and talked about the night with Jane and Erin. We laughed. We ate pancakes. We hung out. I went out and bought the best of Will Ferrell and we watched it together. Then we watched some of Mrs. Doubtfire.
I love Erin so incredibly much. She glows around Jane and watching the two of them together makes me love her more. It's strange seeing another side, seeing more of the person you love and love that part of her. I don't know. I'm acting all cutsie. That's it. Ahhhh. Nevermind.
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[09 Mar 2004|10:53pm] |
Nothing tends to bother me more than not getting things done by my own stupidity.
There are days where I watch a little tv, go to a friends to play foosball and then, when I'm home alone I wonder about my commitment to the things I love. Writing and reading and generally playing around on my guitar.
My god, I sound like a hipster.
Ok slight hipster I understand but still. Hmmm.
I am currently reading Breakfast of Champions and Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven.
I plan on being in Italy by June. That's the general idea. Should happen. Click my heels three times.
I need to change myself.
Lately I've tried something. I've tried to be the ears and eyes and conscience of the creator of the universe. I keep fucking up. I'll get it though.This week, I promise.
I've thought about another story and I'm going to go to a park somewhere and write an outline. I have to go to a park because I'm not allowed to park for more than two hours where I'm at.
I know this writing is shit and I'm sorry for subjecting you to these abstract thoughts or "mini" thoughts.
It's just I find it easier to be the person I want when other people are around.
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| I kept promising myself. |
[07 Mar 2004|02:30pm] |
What's the meaning of life?
To be the ears, the eyes, and the conscience of the creator of the universe, you fool.
Tom currently has four blood scratch marks. They are aligned on his nose, the inside of his right outside nostril, under his nose, and slightly to the left of his left nostril. All together they look like a baseball diamond and, with his considerable razor burn on the left side cheek he continually looks at the mirror. He has tried to stop himself by only glancing in the mirror as he walks past but the burn and diamond bother him.
All his wounds are self inflicted. While washing himself in the shower he takes his hands, palms out, and rubs his face to take the water away from his eyes. He's seen people in movies do this and he finds that it clears his sinuses as well as a general feeling of expelling something. Lately he's been doing it too hard and his fingernails scratch his face. The burn on the side of his face he attributes to shaving too fast against the grain.
Tom lives in a big studio. He likes the place because he has never lived in a place before this size by himself, but most especially, because it is across the street from his girlfriend. A place this size (you should see how big it is) probably could hold two people but now it only holds Tom and sometimes, usually weekends, his girlfriend.
When Tom's girlfriend used to stay over he took her home in the morning or when she needed to be home. The trip took around fourteen minutes because of the lights and the traffic. Tom's girlfriend lives in the dorms. He would park in a short alley, near the construction of the new dorms made with a board voted educational bond. He would either walk her to the door or, if he was in a hurry or she insisted not to walk her, he would wait for her to walk up the stairs and look back at him. He loved it when she looked back because he thought it meant I love you.
After moving to his big studio Tom never drives her home. Since they live so close, Tom parks and then either walks her to her door or they split paths at the alley. When she leaves she kisses him but doesn't turn her head. This change, Tom reminds himself, is all a part of moving.
Tom first met his girlfriend in Paris. He was living in Italy at the time and he convinced her to visit him in Venice. They wrote to each other and fell in love fast and beautifully. Tom's girlfriend wrote in such a way that made him feel loved not only by her, but by the world. She is wonderful like that.
When both returned to San Francisco they no longer needed to write to another. They could simply call or tell each other whatever their needs and wants were. At first Tom felt strange about the change, but soon he realized that it would be fine.
Once Tom saw a movie about change with Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep. Clint wanted Meryl to change. He said that they had true love. She agreed but said she had children and a family. So Clint left. Tom saw this movie with about three middle aged women, one being his mother. They all cried.
On the way out of the theater one of the women said to another that she guessed love is in the timing. The other nodded. Then they went home to their husbands.
Tom wonders what he could do to have his girlfriend turn around again. He also thinks that the reason why she isn't turning around is his blood baseball diamond on his nose and the burn on the left side of his lips. Maybe she doesn't like looking at them and is waiting for them to go away. Maybe then she'll turn around.
Tom's girlfriend's roommate says that usually the romance usually goes down and the passion subsides after six months. Tom and his girlfriend have been seeing each other for eight months. The roommate has never been in a relationship before. She is from India though and when she speaks profound sometimes she carries a kind of cutural mysticism.
Tom has wished to have more of a cutural and, at times, feels he has none. Tom's mother was born in Australia and father in Sacramento, California.
Actually Tom's girlfriend's roommate was not born in India. Her parents were born in India. She was born in Fremont. Fremont is a small city in the California bay area.
Tom sometimes gets afraid of change and wishes that his girlfriend would turn her head after eight months of seeing each other. He also wishes his blood scratches in the form of a baseball diamond and burn would finally go away.
That's all for now.
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[05 Feb 2004|07:27pm] |
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Hey everyone. I haven't written in here in awhile but if I could get some help right now that would be nifty. Anyways I need two people to live with. My roommates are leaving and I need two more people to take the rent. If anyone knows of anyone PLEASE email me. thanks guys.
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[19 Dec 2003|11:52pm] |
My parents just said that my dad is thinking of going in the military full time. That would mean selling the house and moving to Sacramento. My mom would stop owning a day care (something she has had since I was four) and go to school full time. After living in Sacramento they would move to Europe for awhile (place not yet specific). They will live there for a couple years. Maybe three. My sister will flip. She will hate this. I haven't yet decided how I feel.
This is our first holiday scandel.
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[17 Dec 2003|06:17pm] |
A. I'd like to say that I'm sorry about not posting for awhile. I feel like a slacker. B. my mail came back from currentyautumn's house so I need to get the right address because I probably wrote it down wrong and now I don't have the address or at least the right one. C. we have to stop counting in letters.
So I'm at my parent's house and by the time I return all internet use will be back and running which is nice. I'm going to be here for awhile doing family things and writing about that. I have lots and lots to write about. So Matt why don't you just write it and not say you have lots to write about. Shut up.
Erin is currently in Phoenix for her Christmas vacation and I'm sad and lamenting. I miss my girl. What can I say? She saw In America last night and I wish that I could have been there. Her and her mom cried when they saw it and I found myself lost inbetween wanting to be there and knowing this was a great moment with her mom. I have stories though. Erin stories that need to be told and will before the end of the weekend. Stay tuned.
Tonight I'm off to see the Jack Nicholson movie. I'll be writing more tonight since my bedtime is in a different time zone then the parents.
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[08 Dec 2003|03:08pm] |
Computers sometimes go out and then you are stuck with an endless amount of news and information that seemless impossible to fully explain. Also, being well past the time where the events occured, this appears harder to accomplish. Anyhow anyway anything's possible.
Right now I'm waiting to tutor a Ms. Phoebe and I'm very early. I've thought I could do something in the city but, for the life of me, I can't find anything to do in the mission district. Forget this. I'm going to a cafe and reading my book.
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[03 Dec 2003|07:38pm] |
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I've been having computer problems...I will be back soon. Sorry for the delay.
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[14 Nov 2003|01:20pm] |
Willie Nelson's you were always on my mind is on repeat in my head. It's raining and I'm feeling moody. I wish I could write. I have to go home and clean, which is not at all bad, just disappointing. I had to cancel my appointment with Phoebe. Work must get done. Bills get paid.
So there. When I walk down the streets in San Francisco they seem so grown up. I sing to myself while I walk. I'm a horrible singer.
I got to a phone and delivered a message to my girl. It's raining and sometimes the rain makes me moody.
I miss her she will want to make me laugh and cheer me up and if I had money I'd bet that she'll do it.
I feel like I want a hug. I miss her. I miss being by myself. I can't wait for my vacation. I don't want to let people down anymore. I am not lost, I just don't know where I'm going.
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