justnick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- So we're the Kings of it all the day we were born OK, everyone be forwarned, I'm going to do some splastasia now. If you don't know what that is, well then... brace yourself, I suppose. And it also just occured to me that this is the FOURTH entry I have written in the last 24 hours. It's rather sad. Forgive me? BGM: "The Kilburn High Road" - Flogging Molly So here I sit, brokenhearted, came to think but can't get started. Clever me and my alterations on dirty poetry, hmm? I've noticed that when I write, I type 'hmm', whereas when I speak, I succumb to breeding and stereotypically say 'eh'. better living through the internet, on that end. Is 'internet' supposed to be capitalised? I don't think so. That would be too much like attributing it to some kind of divine importance, which as we all know, is not a philosophy I ascribe to. So capital letters be damned. I have just finished one of the most theraputic few days I have ever had, and nothing especially theraputic happened. Well, there was the escapade in the fountain, that was fun. Every day, I see children frolicking in the fountain in the park by my home, and get this profound sense of loss and jealousy. I always miss the days when puddles and snowbanks weren't obstacles. Grown up is a state of mind, I suppose. So the other night, Saturday night at about 4am, to be precise, (it's only morning when I wake up) I walked home with two of my friends, and decided to jump in. Well, we ended up doing some frolicking of our own, and I must say it was the most fun I've had since... well, as far back as I can remember, frankly. So at one point, as the three of us played in the water, mostly naked, humourously enough, a man stopped by and asked for directions. "Do you guys know where Ray street is?" he asked the three frolicking homoerotic youths, "No" we all replied in unison. And then, as he rounds the corner, just loud enough to be heard clearly, Scott says "Communal Baths are fun, though." I havent laughed that hard in ages. I'm running short on imagination, still we waste it all on words spoken without benefit of our minds. I am a dropout. I am a rock star and laureate to be, damnit. I am an adolescent male with dreams and hopes and fears and mountains of neuroses. I think one of those neuroses is my constant search for self justification. Every once and a while, I get an urge to post my writings on here, just to share my thoughts with the world in the way I got them, but then I decide that's being pretentious. One day, someone will randomly call me up and say "I must read everything you have ever written, stranger" and then brand me a genious and zeitgeist of nihilism. I wonder how much of what I write is meaningful, and how much of it is a search for meaning. And if that in itself is a meaning. I am as I was as I will be, and at the same time so very different, no? I speak it to you as I spoke it to her: stay wonderfully flawed. Like a crooked smile on the Mona Lisa, every one of you. Excelsior. 8:13 p.m. - 2003-08-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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