The work, which becomes a new genre itself...
The work, which becomes a new genre itself...
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2004-06-28-12:57 a.m. This diary is under watch.... anything I say, may be used against me. But Sarah called me a "killjoy" today and that pissed me off. We fight, but calling me a killjoy is pressing the wrong button. We got everything settled though. Seems the more we fight, the closer we get. Eh, but I don't want to fight every damn day. This is what I imagine when I think of killjoy: You've spent hours in the kitchen, baking the perfect coconut upsidedown cake. It's so damn good, you are actually sorry that you have to eat it. But you know it's going to taste even better than it looks. And then some midget comes and urinates all over the cake. THAT'S a killjoy. I wish I could burn my face so that I didn't grow a beard. What's the use of hair that feels like sharp metal? I think I want to grow my hair long again. I haven't done that since I cut it in 10th grade. But I also use to wear a flannel everywhere too. It was my jacket... the school said it was a T shirt. I think I want to go outside tommorow. I haven't been outside for a week now. My Workshop ended last Monday and I basked in the power of doing nothing by reading, plans for writing, and talking with Sarah. I've been pretty use to the idea of living here alone. Being a hermit... not caring about what exactly is happening outside. But now I'm getting lazy. I need to start running again, get in the sun, breathe some air outside all day. I should take a roadtrip soon, I'm just dying here. In fact, I should overload my class schedule this fall so I can fucking finish school and have an excuse to move away from Jax. Where would I move to? Somewhere out west... or maybe a school where I can get my English grad degree, that's out west. I don't know what I want, I'm just tired of the name Jacksonville. This week...eat,read,sleep. This is killing me. I need to shave.
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