i found out that i wasn’t an artist. that summer i am just thirteen and everything sucks. you big puff. tomorrow you will wake up alive and that is all that matters. tomorrow you will wake up with air in your lungs and your heart will beat a new tune. i just don’t want to deal anymore with bad things bad people bad everything. mild malaise. dysthymia allows an appearance of normalcy because it becomes, over time, a part of life. i am the walking wounded. if they were manic depressives, they worked out of hypomania, the productive precursor to a manic phase which allows a peak of creative energy to flow. but, depression is pure dullness, tedium straight up.
hardware store hell
i look out the doorway onto the street and i think i won’t be here 3 hours from now so it doesn’t matter. i will be away from this place, this store, this life.
i had to go somewhere with the premise of actually accomplishing something other than getting baked on the beach.
fell over a lot last nite. illegal boozecans. magicians. things you shouldn’t indulge in anymore. giving all your money away. the ultimate low. sleeping your day away. married on the beach. velvet drapes. need to do laundry. RAGBRAI. never eating perogies ever again. am i a junky? i am not a junky. time to wash my pants. the cat attacked my hand. tomorrow can be worse. yes i’m classy. yes i’m fancy. yes i love kevin spacey in the last twenty minutes of seven. oh to look at you in a cab, back of your head across my lap. it’s hard to understand, but the touch of your hand, can start me crying. fuckers. she’s a walking pharmacy. you don’t even need hate to have a perfectly miserable time. day after day wearing down everybody who gets near me. every guy i meet turns into jesus christ within twenty-four hours of meeting them. you seem like maybe you’re too intense for this world. but then i never had to worry about a crash landing because i never took off. you don’t need drugs. what you really need is close, caring relationships. you need to trust somebody. you need to think people are okay. she is the rain.you are global. i lose everything. i am a plane crash. she would just lie in her bed, staring at pink walls, taking pink pills that the nurse in white would give her. between the green pills and the yellow ones. and all these blues. but i can be your best friend. people tend to go crazy when they don’t even have a container of milk in the refrigerator. i myself am hell. us you them. i want my brain annihilated. Mellaril, an antipsychotic, a medication that’s been known to help schizophrenics during their visionary episodes, a major tranquilizer in the same family as Thorazine, blocking the receptor sites in your brain which connect facts with feelings. he was positively dapper. completely ass-backwards. listen to any unhappy person tell his tale of woe, and it sounds like every other tale of woe.
still she said relax and i said i wish.
the whole bunch of them can go blow as far as i’m concerned.
by then, i was a perfect weirdo by any standard. think so maybe. alcohol and drugs also mask a type of depression that is not so very different from my own. bickering about something that in measurable terms did not exist. i just hid in my room languishing in an increasingly morose state. it was as if she were part of the chorus in a Greek tragedy and this was the big funeral scene. i don’t want to deal with me. not sleeping, not even trying to sleep. i have that boozy and bruise-eyed look. taking drugs breeds taking more drugs. i was magnanimous and gregarious and all that stuff. i need the thing that happens when your brain shuts off and your heart turns on. i will be your little boy. i am okay. theme from twin sheiksr. until you are actually flying out of a window, you don’t have a problem. maybe i want to look cheap. she thought she looked just fine. her friends were all impressed by her sophistication.
Saturday, June 11, 1994 3:23pm – in the car -
My mom, dad, brother and I are going to Mike&Lena’s house. Our cousin Jeremy is there, too. We are going swimming. We are also going to eat dinner there too.
I’ll write back later. (MAYBE!)
ps. School is almost over!
pps. Yeah!
this world. i tell you. i appreciate this anger. generally, jealousy alludes me. i just get pissed off. what pissed off feels like: hot-bubbly fire in your temples, the pounding of tambourines against your skull and a tight knot in the pit of your belly. everyone here is an artfag and a boy and i’m just a girl. billets et bagages. no deliveries 11:30am-2:00pm. gnova kel villa norman grisley quiet slums. subdued, oblivious-like yet very much aware of my surroundings. where’s the chicken head?/i will kill you in your sleep/this is a haiku. here we are again at the beginning. i am in commuter hell forever damned and sucked into the ocean of stampeding suits. everywhere you go/they’re expecting greatness/everywhere you turn. october 18 2000.
running wild. dreaming until your eyeballs pop. october 19 2000.
thinking to himself/why have the gods cursed my name/bad days forever
we are all slaving for causes we don’t believe in. collectively getting nowhere.
i can’t do this if your heart belongs to someone else.
i am pissed off all over the place today.
october 26 2000. different girls wearing the same shoes sitting beside each other in the cafe.
people who have had someone close to them die
are special people
be nice to them
listen to them speak
they are beautiful
-raymi
i will never forget watching that man jump from 50 stories up and explode when he hit the ground.
i was 4 years old.
i will never forget watching television when i was 3 years old about 6 in the morning in florida.
and having lemon meringue pie for dessert on the airplane.
i will not ever forget making people cry and feeling horrible for it.
and my birthday goodbye party in maine and making all this lobster and not being able to eat any of it and havin to wear old lady sunglasses to hide my face.
i will never forget what it feels like to be upside-down on a rollercoaster and being on an airplane when it is taking off and thinking i might die today and it is ok because i am strapped into this seat and i am eating pretzels.
i will never forget the feeling i felt when my parents found out i was dating a 29 yr. old and i was only 16 and it was like this intense slow motion consuming fear.
i will never forget being told to get lost by all the popular kids in grade 6 after i got caught talking shit about all of them behind their backs.
and then they begged for my forgiveness and i went on to be the valedictorian.
so there.
btw – if you know of a cathy garcia. please tell her i think about her sometimes.
you know what? fuck underpants man! i totally forgot how awesome it is to not wear those stupid things. rowf! Also, i’m also wearing the same two outfits every other day and listening to the same awful song over and over.
What do you call something that’s big and red and eats rocks?
a big red rock eater!
now
if that line doesn’t get me laid tonite, i dunno what will. seriously.
tonite is fraud club. haven’t been there in awhile. meh.
hokey sales pitch-thing. i have about 40 hot hot hot black ‘n whites for sale. nude-o-rama. blown up to whatever size you want, framed or not. signed, surely. whatever. lemme know if you wanna see more. serious mo’fo’s only.
i will pay someone four dollars if they come over and clean up my room, do my laundry, do my hair, tell me i’m pretty and then get me some soda.
i have these Ferrous Gluconate iron pills but i haven’t been taking them consistently enough so on the days i remember i take a handful and then everything gets all weird.
i wore a t-shirt dress yesterday. this bigass white thing i got from art system and i wore long johns and my barbarella boots and i walked in slow motion through the snow all the way to the supermarket whereupon i bought blackberries and hair-dye and greek salad.
i put lipstick all over my body at my friend’s place of employment last nite after a few beers and i got it all over the place and i tried to wipe it off but it still says cocktease and cunt and bitch on my arms and legs. i am deliberating whether or not i should post the pictures.
maybe i will.
i told my roommates to drink all the milk while i was away and they didn’t so we have two rancid bags of 2 per cent just sitting there. i think i might throw one over the backyard fence into the alley.
we love naked people lying down in tables of red wine and people jumping thru drywall and stealing art smashing lightbulbs and people asking me to have sex with them and paying coolhandluke to show them his dink and me wearing underwear and cutting in front of groups of people in line for the bathroom to fill up my beer can with water and on and on and a snotty girl asking if i slept with the her sister’s ex-boyfriend and walking around saying i’m a go go dancer but really i am just walking around on drugs. yarrr!
go to Art System tonite. i’m go go dancing with coolhandluke. people will be smashing up crappy art and drinking beers and there’s a party room. fritz the cat is playing dj or something. i got all these press releases but they were too confusing to read. just go.
today it was all about fat and disgusting food booze and then a strip club tour ouf the city all before 5pm. wheee! i’ve seen enough cottage cheese thighs to last me a lifetime. yes. i. have.
—————–
Dear Raymi,
Do you have something against girls, especially me. I think you are
insulting all those female to get them upset.
I think you are a drunk, fucking Asshole, and I’ve read your story,
How to be a Drunk Asshole. At least that story didn’t insult anyone.
From
Willow
Um what exactly have i said to insult women?
and yes, i make it my personal goal, each and everyday to
talk shit about my own gender. in fact, i have so much feminine guilt i think i want to get a penis.
all my html link tags were stripped somehow so links on the lefthand sidebar thingy dont work. go to my archives if you are mega desperate to see what those links are all about. they work.
