No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2001-06-14 - 10:17 p.m.

the power of angst

aaaah, the power of angst.

not a good day, me kiddies, not a good day.

not necessarily a bad day either, but certainly not a good one.

man oh man do i hate my commute. it took me half an hour to go three miles. over an hour to get home. geez i hate that.

on the plus side of the commute i found my copy of lisa loeb's purple tape and i'm in love with her all over again.

speaking of love, or the lack thereof, SmogMonkey has been crouched in the back of my head all day singing "alone, alone, you're gonna die alone" in his best neener-neener voice.

this despite the emails from chicas on match.com.

this perhaps because there's been no word yet from SoccerGirl (that's two calls and an email with no response for those of you keeping score) or from K (left message tuesday).

so i tried very hard to take my first night to myself this week and turn it into a positive, j$ affirming night.

can't say it's really worked.

i ate a personal bar-b-q chicken pizza. yum.

i played a computer game for a while.

i called TwinSis and RedQueenGirl.

when all else failed i watched the PowerPuff Girls.


i still feel like crap. i don't really know what my major malfunction is right now.

i feel like i should be listing out all of my accomplishments, all of the things in my life that are good, all the people i can count on, all the bucket-loads of love i know that are ready to be thrown my way to quench the smoldering fires of my own self-doubt (gee j$, crappy analogy much? naw) and it still doesn't really matter.

"alone, alone, you're gonna die alone."

shut up SmogMonkey. just shut the hell up. some days i wish i could drill a hole in my forehead and reach in with forceps or better yet a red-hot poker, dig my way through all that gray matter and just burn out one SmogMonkey. the little bastard crouched at the base of my skull, flicking his ashes onto my brain stem. that little sh*t that collects every negative thought that runs through my head, cages them up, feeds them, exercises them, gives them EAS creatine supplements and then unleashes them again at exactly the wrong moment. the SmogMonkey. one mean little bastard.

and today he just won't leave me alone.

i want a vacation.

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