04 February 2003 - 6:03 pm
hitting a wall. a big fucking wall.

music : the last 5 years - climbing uphill

//

a discontent feeling lodged in my throat like a bad pill. i like this song becase it's strings & piano. jason has me hooked on this damn musical only because it happened to be in the cd drive when i turned on the computer.

looking through the plays on amazon.com to decide on which one i will be proposing for the fall. i know that this time i'm going to PICK a play and STICK with the damn thing.

tomorrow morning i'm going to go to the gym. for the first time. i'm ... maybe i won't. actually. i don't think i will. maybe. i'm kind of sick to my stomach. i didn't go to dinner. maybe i should've gone to dinner. but i went to wal-mart instead. because i needed to. and i'm glad i did. except it was kind of stupid. and a waste. this day is a waste. it's raining and slush and sleet and gray. some sort of divine joke, i'm sure. at least it made it easier to scrape off my car.

jason half-cleaned the room today. or maybe it's only my half that remains. i'm restless. i'd like to DO something, goddamnit, i'd like to SAY something ... to anyone. i feel like i'm reaching out, like i need to talk to someone, but ... when they oblige, and sit down, my mouth opens and closes on a vast nothing. pop. the end. and then something awkward.

i'm writing a play though now. a one-act. and it's exciting to have an Idea, a Germ of a Thought. the salvation army in town is closing, and this makes me viscerally sad. (".. belting as HIGH as they can" i always hear an echo after this because jason practices the note every time this song is on. so it's as though i expect it to be in the song.)

it's like that song from "a little night music" in which friedrich sings about all the opportunities available to him. kaylen said she'd run away with me. she loves darrell. it's kind of sad. reminds me of some tragic russian novel (which russian novels WEREN'T tragic?) of gray skies and perpetual rain with a lightningbolt now and then. cat fur. damp cat fur. eh. i hate days like this. i start to get confused and kind of hateful. no isolation needed. everyone has rehearsal lately. not me, not until feb 17th. i have to figure stuff out. now. i'm sick of this. sick of this constant uncertainty. i hate this. this journal this indecision this ...

(and i ...)

i gotta learn how to relax. how to be less frantic. but i'm frantic, i am a worried and constantly nervous person. it's going to cause me to go bald and to develop ulcers. i feel like the precipice which i am standing on is rapidly eroding.

as ALWAYS. i finished copying my damn journal to my hard-drive. and every fucking entry. (god i hate this fucking song)

(and i ... )

yes, i'm still hurting. but what! this imagined thorn in my side? this constant worry, this nag that keeps me up nights and scaling down walls of sheer frustration?

i know you don't care. but thanks for reading anyway.

i guess. fuck me. i fucking hate this. (notice how i swear when i hit a wall?) this isn't exactly news. it's all repetition. the year and a half i've kept this journal ... it's all been mostly the same goddamn thing.

it's a wonder i keep going. fucking thing.

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