fractions of a whole

before you left to go away I wrote down
what I couldn't say. I'll bet you read it
on the road with
foggy lights and fingers cold.
now you drove so far but
now you know how rough it is to
let me go. but
let me recommend that you
think twice - I always give the
best advice.


now come on back
to where you know I'll be

let's go sit under the apple tree



you can floor that thing, let the engine roar
the wheels, they'll spin
the rain, it pours and if

there's

regret t h a t y o u

f e e l a b o u t t h e

c h o i c e y o u m a d e

y o u ' l l j u s t h a v e t o

d e a l

before it g o e s a w a y.

you ask me how I feel,
and here's what I'll say:



I'm doin' fine, just fine.




I'm doin' fine.

don't more of my friends like to do things that AREN'T in Riverside.




I wish more of them fully realized that we live ridiculously close to one of the greatest cities on the planet, with a nearly-infinite wealth of FUN SHIT to do all day, every day.


But no. We stay in Riverside. We hang out with Riverside people. We shop in Riverside, eat in Riverside, take walks and go on hikes in Riverside, party in Riverside.

This little world is so fucking tiny and boring and the general character is one of people who can't invent something interesting to do so they end up either A) going to shitty parties with gross people or B)doing nothing.


YOU LIVE ONE HOUR AWAY FROM LOS ANGELES.

ONE. HOUR.


explore something for once.





and then, I'm also angry that I have to depend on my friends to have fun. I'm unfortunate enough to live in a place where I can't get anywhere on my own and it SUCKS, especially when the last westbound buses and trains leave at six in the evening (which is RIDICULOUS).

Yeah, maybe I should drive, but it's a little late for that now and my last days on this coast are dwindling quickly.





LET'S DO SOMETHING.

WHO GIVES A FUCK WHERE.

Let's. Go. NOW.

You're really all I can think about.

It's almost disgusting... just that I can let you have this effect on me.

Not you, of course... not at all. Nor the fluttery, contented feeling that you give me, either.

Just the fact that I'm so... susceptible to it.



You're, in all truth great and small, one of the most beautiful people I've ever encountered.

I can only imagine how that sentiment will intensify once this gap is closed.



And I can't describe how incredibly happy I am for you.

I feel it in the core of me; a deep, gleeful relief and an impossibly tenacious sense of hope that things can only get better for you from here.

What's more is that, for the first time in my life, another person's ability to make me happy is not stemming from a feeling of approval from them. This is not about me at all. My thoughts and feelings are so deeply wrapped up in you that, just the fact that you feel better makes me feel.... absolutely perfect.

In a kind of drowsy fuzzy, beautiful warm sigh-inducing sense of contentedness... not because, you like me or you make me feel good, but just because you are happier.



This is really remarkable. Probably very, very irresponsible to let myself behave this way... but truly rapturous in so many ways.


You're breathtaking, simply.

This is one of the greatest and truest articles I've read in regards to Western youth culture.

"An artificial appropriation of different styles from different eras, the hipster represents the end of Western civilization – a culture lost in the superficiality of its past and unable to create any new meaning."

It's so true that, as young people, in our desperate grasping for authenticity we've forgotten completely how to even be responsible for authenticity to begin with.

One half of me wanted to go to New York and dip my feet hedonistically into the glittery cesspools of vain, apathetic, ironic, shallow debauchery; to rub elbows with the kids who make uncool into anti-cool into too-cool-for-your-shit.

The other half of me, which I'm working on turning into a whole, wants absolutely nothing to do with it. I want to be my own person who likes my own things and doesn't need to wear or do or say certain things in order to receive approving looks from the cool kids who are slaves to being ironically uncool.

I'll be the first to admit that that shit looks like so much fun, and I probably won't be above the grungy club or party or two.

But I want to make an effort right now to not let myself feel bad because I'm not working hard enough to keep up with the apathetic aesthetic of the ubiquitous New York hipster crowd... They're almost amusing, and when I can move beyond the superficial vibes of inferiority they give me, and look at them for they way they really are, I have to wonder what they'd think if they could see themselves.... "I'm fuckin radsy stat." ughhh.





post script: WHY is everyone so mean and jaded and negative and yucky. (read the comments on that article to see what I'm talking about.)

post post script: Zizek is fascinating but a little scary, in that it makes me feel SO dumb.

I now know



that I am not the only one who goes to particularly great lengths for particularly ambivalent boys.

I'm trying to decide who's crazier; the one of us who drove hundreds of miles for no other reason, or the one who flew thousands of miles, with at least some kind of pretext for doing so.

But if we want to talk about crazy, I could potentially dip into the reasoning which motivated me to go to college in this particular place to begin with... but that's a conversation I don't think I'm ready to have with myself yet.

Perhaps that's irrelevant.



I didn't go to see the city, I -

I went to see it around you.






oh, and


iftherewasanythingintheworldIcoulddoforyouIwouldputmylifeonholdtodoit.

that's all.

♪♪♪ I don't know what I'm doing here

or how this happened

la la laaaa

♪♫ this is very risky

and not very smart ♫♪


hmmmmm sha la la la


♫ but I like it....


a lot. ♪


ska-doo.

there's a boy that grew up on the dry exurban fringe of the City of Angels in a cocoon of near-Rockwellian domesticity. The boy who had never been challenged or exposed, had not seen or lived or breathed or experienced anything anywhere close to the gritty, glittery, hazy, starry, dark and intoxicating things he imagined in his head, felt an undying need to throw himself un-prepared and un-knowing to the mercy of the velvet purple universe. He's following something primal to the center of that universe - New York City.

...

that was cheesy. I'm feeling extra-taurean at the moment. My beloved mother earth has me enveloped in her beguiling, mysterious embrace.

I'm feeling strangely cosmic at the moment. I like it.

Very difficult to apologize for things.

Even when I know I'm wrong and I've hurt someone's feelings.

I am very, very mean to my little brother.

Sometimes I feel responsible for his problems. I have never been nice to him, and that must have had some negative impact.

I made him cry to night, and I feel terrible, but how do you make amends for that kind of thing?

but the air is running out.




I find that I have a terrible habit of going to particularly great lengths for particularly ambivalent boys.




Oh, and my suitcase broke open in the middle of Penn Station, spilling my chonies and shit out for all of New York City to see.


... HAHAHAHAHAH.



P.S. My building is beautiful! So is my neighborhood! YAY!!!

I don't think I need to tell you that EDC was the most phenomenal evening of my short life

Oh, and the one on the right: MINE



Ignore the fact that I look like a drag queen hooker ending her shift, please.




Moving forward,

I'm having some really strange thoughts about eating lately.

Like, I'm beginning to hate it. But I can't stop. I eat and I'm disgusted that I'm eating but I can't stop doing it.

And then I think about people who take care of themselves and look good and I wonder how they feel about food...

Almost everyday I tell myself I'm going to stop eating altogether. This, of course, never works.


I feel like a slave to food. I can't function properly unless my monstrous cravings are sated. See? I told you this is disgusting. And even though I gross myself out, when I don't eat, I get cranky and headachey and generally unpleasant.

This is so weird. I just want to be in charge. I'm trying. I've started thinking very consciously about everything I eat, and I'm not eating out of boredom as much anymore. Progress, I suppose.




^ That was gross. My apologies.



Tomorrow I'm going to New York/New Jersey. I'll be back in ten days. Miss me while I'm gone!