| the HARANGUE
...everybody tries to kill themselves at one time or another, one way or
another. some succeed, most fail in the beginning, but a flirtation with
death can often soon become a sort of love affair
...we all deal with things
...I've been getting along all too well with most everyone lately and its a bit disconcerting to me. it throws me off guard to be as honest as I try and not have everyone fuming mad with me. it makes me wonder if I'm holding back my opinions or if maybe I've finally gotten to everyone and if thats the case I'm most terrified of all
...its a pity to spend fifteen dollars before tax on a book, no matter how wanted or needed, and then to accidentally bend up the cover beyond restoration within the first days of owning it. I know it won't be in its new-bought condition when I've finished reading it once, but to see its state freshly purchased like this saddens me unreasonably
...there is always something I am forgetting. asleep or awake, I
cannot remember what it is and often I do not even realize I have forgotten
it, but that is the charm of truly forgetting, forgetting in its finest, purest form, the oblivious forgotten, and to never realize it as so. I imagine this is the pinnacle of forgetting, not always an easy achievement. often impressive
...disembodied, I feel as if in a rut, wandering about daily, zombie-like. winter can finish any day now and I will gladly thank it for going away, ending the monotany that I look forward to after a frantic spring, wild summer and intense fall. I am ready for the shiny, bright, speedy days again, and if I do not get them soon I may turn partially catatonic until then
...I watch way too much television. few commercials I have not seen I assume, but could be wrong, but as often as I sit there with that idiot box on, watching it or not, still infecting my brain, you'd think I would have seen them all. I see so many strange things on there anymore that my conscience demands I keep a tape ready for recording at any moment, saving those weirdest items for future reference and to share with various disbelievers
...there is nothing more intoxicating then writing every day. when this is your passion, whether you have anything to say or not, some of the better things are of nothing in particular and this is their beauty, but even the greatest drunk soon turns into a dependancy and the fun times gone, the need sets in, no longer does the giddy joy of writing fill the lighty head, but a sad sharp hazy pain flushes through the soul when I fail to produce, ending the usual mediocrity that generally trots alongside me
...for the first time in about 12 years I have more then 300 uncommited dollars in my savings account and I feel like a millionare, but probably not for
long
...my hair seems to be at that constant length beginning immediately after I get it cut which I can do nothing with. I am forced to color it bright orange to take the pressure off myself and put the real blame where it belongs
...in this town the cabs never run on time. in the winter, during a decent snow, you'll be lucky to get a one to come to you at all. there are probably all of about 6 cabs running at peak hours. this is Iowa, everybody here already drives a pick-up truck or a tractor or rides a pig, and if you don't have your own truck (or car), between the cabs and the buses (which
stop running at ten pm) you'll be doing alot of walking, running or riding a
bike. the individual option of propulsion here of course is your own
...sickness abounds, everyone seems to be ill these days, from strept
throat to pneumonia, high fevers and missed work. I worked through my
illness, nasty as it was. I'm glad it wasn't as bad as it could have been. I
got it easy compared to many I know. I didn't miss any work from it myself,
but I did take the day off once I was better. a few lines of coke and the
tease of a wild night, I ended up ditched and slept it away, waking the next
morning annoyed and none too hung over, vowing never to call in sick under
such circumstances again (or at least not until next month)
...ridiculous people, always confident that death is such a happy affair; time to be with God, time for your corpse to fester, your destiny has been fullfilled. all praise Jesus. such a fancy idea. the cheetah kills the antelope because they
have an agreement with the maker. it seems the antelope is called to heaven
for a special event in which he is needed asap. the cheetah wasn't hungry at
all and every industrial accident, mass murder, fatal bar stabbing and case
of infanticide is purposefully designed by our maker. how convenient for us
all
...I'm not sure whats in all the food I eat, but I'm sure if it tastes good and doesn't cause a rash, it must be good for you. at least when you
cannabalize youe neighbor, you pretty much know what your putting into your
body
...I'm not prone to pity myself, but on rare occasions when I try to, I
cannot see beyond my loser roomate or the homeless people living down the
street or my aimless sister or my sad boss or my junky neighbors or my
friends in their petty marriages and I know I don't have it nearly as bad as
I thought and it passes with a sigh of relief...
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