.d.
.latest.
.older.
.tell.me.
.sell.me.
.dirt.
.mylove.
.c'mon.
.me.

.sponsor me.
.PLEASE.

2002-10-30 - 9:03 a.m.

if you run, i'll follow. if you follow, i'll run. finally, after a year of pain and chaos in the beautiful flow of S and R, those words. heavy and sad. but it happened the other way around. and nobody is running anymore.

sound doesn't travel in a vacuum.

this is the first time i have written stream of consciousness with the awareness of a possible audience. i mean it is possible these words will continue to echo binary reverberation in the empty halls of cyberspace. it is possible.

my backyard is connected to a nursery. little people, not plants. whenever they go out to play, the cacophony of screaming and shouting, the familiar sounds of recess, both soothe and agitate me. like i want to make sure no one is being left out. but i want to sample them and expolit their innocence. i am the sound villian; sampling, scratching, looping the unsuspecting. mwah ha haa...

11:00 am

i don't love anybody. that is the truth. of course i love you. and you too, you know that. but i don't love anybody. and it is a strange feeling. oh sure, i can pretend that chris-odonnell-messenger-bike-boy in the hallway is the thing that starts my engine every day. but you know i'd be lying. is it ok to resign myself to the fact that i believe my life to be a better place even with unrequited love. charlie brown totally gets me. oh shit. i think this is the lesson of letting go again. and self-love or some other crap like that. i would SO rather get stoned and see jackass then process another moment of letting go. let's go.

this was all dionne's hallucination in the first place. i save myself over and over again. not until i am saved. until i am unsavable. so i go down to the ocean wall to think, like any predictable unemployed writer could do, and the sun is blinding as a santa-goes-to-hawaii-looking man rides by on a seated bike with a ghetto-blaster[ghetto good] pulled behind him blaring pet shop boys' "west end boys". and when i can take just three steps back and take it all in, i know everything is going to be ok.

2:00 pm

let me just say that if i start to tell you who i think are the best musicians, i'm not going to mention jimi hendrix and charlie parker right now. its like saying you is a pronoun. which is a correct sentence, by the way. yo whassup, you IS a pronoun. and radiohead IS oxygen.

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