Life is hell. It is just utter, utter hell.

I hate women. I just fucking utterly hate women.

All any of you can do is protect and indulge yourselves while destroying other people. And if anyone calls you on it, you set up this straw man: “well if I didn’t, you would hurt me first.”

Well I’ve never done shit to you. I’ve always been good to all of you, and all of you have done nothing but serve yourselves in return, conveniently claiming to do it for me when it coincides with my needs, then dismissing me like a schoolboy when it doesn’t, playing the “oppressed woman” card if I call you out on it. I’m not even there, to any of you. No men are. Why we put up with any of you I’ll never know.

You feel entitled to everything and take it without faith or loyalty, caring or compassion. You are a disease on the world, selfish and self-absorbed, uncaring and cold, the ultimate consumers, digesting everything that stands in your way, then spitting it out again like so much gristle.

One more night in my life with no sleep. Today is gonna suck hard. 🙁

Oh my god I feel shitty.
Still can’t sleep.
No matter, I have to be to work soon anyway.
The inside of my mind is this maze of memories I can’t touch without hurting.
The longer I live, the worse it gets.

—

She asked me, recently, why I was always suffering. It’s funny, I’ve been asked that before, with as much irony.

Women are why I’m suffering. When I don’t care about them, I’m fine.

It’s like this roller coaster of highs and lows that I just can’t take.

This fucking sucks. It just fucking **sucks**. I am so tired of all of this. I’ve never been so unhappy in my entire life. I am tired, tired, tired. Why am I doing this? Jesus H. Christ everything sucks, sucks, sucks.

I feel incredibly sick. It’s back to the endless vomiting again and the crazy headache again and the burning eyes and everything else. I just want peace. All I want is to feel okay. I’d give everything in the world to feel okay.

It’s official, I hate my life and want to die.

between the rocks and the bay
in the white a.m. glow
are wild seagulls and they
are circling and calling
while touching the heavens,
all seeking to show
in their grim, earthen wisdom
in their grasp of tomorrow
that i’ve lost my way

is the saddest sensation in the world 🙁

though I suppose with 11 of 22 months apart and half of the rest spent working on papers, there’s not much else to expect

—

really my girlfriend, my family, and my friends all seem about a billion miles away right now, plastic and unreal and nonexistent and unimportant; they are little drunken mirages that stumble around somewhere behind the lenses of my eyeballs, having no bearing on life as it actually is or on my feelings as I actually have them

I have lost all of my people, and I despair at ever getting them back in any meaningful way

my inability to establish object permanence has emptied my world of souls

there is only me and me alone

—

work tomorrow

fuck

—

i am such damaged goods right now 🙁
and i am way lonely 🙁

bacchus to the rescue
take me away!

There are too many decisions to be made, and too many ways in which my preferences in any combination of them are irreconcilable and contradictory. At play:

**The job/career.** What am I doing? Where am I going? I am leaving a lot behind (yet again). I have said that too many times in my life now. Soon it will be time for me to stop leaving things behind. I am getting too old to keep starting yet never finish. Am I working on another job? Am I a freelance writer again, and can I do it at a livable level this time? Am I once again the same anti-careerist I was when I was younger, satisfied to earn nothing, have nothing, and build nothing? In reality, I will likely take whatever happens and make it mine, but I can’t help but think that as a result I will be here once again in very short order.

**Living arrangements.** Where? With my girlfriend? I hope so. But I don’t know if it’s workable. We don’t like the same places. We’re two “young adults” (aging every day) trying to build something for ourselves. In our capitalist world, it may be that individuals are incidental and careers are real. If that’s the case, I’m not sure I want to participate in society any longer. If we just no-plan it and end up in the first place where one of us finds something that works, the other is going to be compressed until they find something to do, then eager to leave when they find it (as it won’t necessarily, or even likely, be in the same place). Even if it was just up to me, what do I want? The woods or the high-rise? I’m torn. I’m torn between motorhomes and subways and feel as though I won’t be satisfied unless I have both. And of course, even alone, I couldn’t. It’s not possible.

**Academics.** Dovetailing with the career question is the question of academics. Do I really want to go back? Of course, I say I do all the time, and I do, but that desire has more to do with my distaste for the rest of reality and the marketplace than my love of and for the academy. That isn’t the right motive. I know it, and I’ve heard it from dozens of people dozens of times. I won’t be particularly fulfilled as a professor, but it seems to me that I have a very good chance of being forever forcefully unfulfilled as anything else. Still, there are things that seem attractive to me. Journalism, writing, photography, travel, diplomacy, all of which are extremely difficult to break into. More to the point, they all require a measure of permanent nomadism and homelessness to which I don’t object per se, but which all conflict quite spectacularly with some of the other things (i.e. a home, a nearby significant other, a nearby network of friends) that I desperately want.

**Money.** Can I even afford to think about any of this right now, or should I simply be moving to the cheapest city I can find, locating any roommate who will have me, and getting a job at a Hollywood Video? Could I stand to do that very long, though? Wouldn’t I just quit a moment later as the result of my dissatisfaction and the degree to which it conflicts with everything else I want? And wouldn’t I then be returned immediately to where I am now? So it seems that I should think about the other issues right now. But in the meantime, money threatens to derail, or at least to traumatize, everything else in my life: my academic ambitions, my living arrangements, my relationships.

And of course through it all there are the difficulties of interpersonal relationships and the fact that ultimately every man is an island, desperately trying to cling to others in the vast and brutal sea beyond the reef.

Everything is pressing on me, and I don’t want to face it. I feel like personal catastrophe is seeping in around the edges and I am powerless to stop it. Maybe in a year I’ll be in jail for one reason or another and won’t have to think about anything other than eating three squares a day and watching daytime television from my cot, reading long novels in the evenings. Right now that doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, it sounds like heaven.

my health
my career
my apartment
my bank account
my life

whatever

I am not here to play a character role in other peoples’ lives. I exist in my own right, and I have a life and needs, desires, and wishes of my own.

—

I am tired of riding this roller-coaster. When do I get to stop feeling like this?

—

It’s been a long time since I felt as though I was at a high point in my life. I don’t know what I’m doing here. How did I get here? I’m stuck in the middle of a Talking Heads song. I am not in regular close personal contact with anyone at all, much less my friends or family.

I am sitting in a mostly empty room in a place I am about to leave, with nothing to look to next. This sucks. This fucking sucks. I know, it’s my own damn fault. Damn.

Feels like I’ve been here before. Apparently I am not capable of learning.

So.

I’m almost 30.

I’m laying alone with a shot back in the middle of Southern California in the middle of the night. Inventory: no job, no money, no place to go, no company, no nothing. I’ve got these degrees on the wall, but they’re not making me happy.

What would make me happy? What picture do I have in my head?

My sister read my work and said it was like rain in the city, a kind of dark urban gothic. Makes sense to me, autumn (real autumn, with leaves and rain and snow and darkness, not this cali shit) in the city is when I come into my own, when I am most powerful, most warm, most positive as a force in others’ lives. I’m a damp November force if ever there was one.

I’m too alone. I’m too out of place. Things aren’t together enough. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. What am I alive for? What is the reason? Why do I wake up in the morning?

What do I see myself doing in ten years? Not in the “big picture” sense, not “I see myself as an living in with .” I mean, what do I see myself doing in the 16 hours of awake time that pollute my every day?

What will I be doing with my time?

Will it be better than what I am doing now?

How can I make sure that it will be?

I just wish things were different, and that I wasn’t in a position of having to “get over” anything or forgive anyone for anything. 🙁

—

My sister went home.

—

I hear crickets.

—

Salonpasu are amazing.

I used to think that life was beautiful, but it turns out that life is hell.

Then I thought that people were beautiful, but it turns out that people are generally selfish, stupid, and not very varied at all.

Now I think that the universe is beautiful, and that life is merely the tragedy that makes it so.

Life sucks. It really, really sucks. And if that wasn’t bad enough, in certain extreme situations, everything that normally isn’t even interesting becomes incredibly threatening. And nobody understands or believes you. And you are alone. And nobody is listening to you because nobody is capable of listening to you.

And then you come to your senses and you run as fast as you can, as far as you can. I guess.

—

If you can’t, then what’s the point? Even if you can things would be far out. But if you can’t, you’re just a circus act. It’s all over and done with before you even realize that it’s an issue.