2001-06-24 - 3:21 p.m.

I have finally caught up with my fellow on-line-journaliers. For the record, that's actionhero, malraux, and dreamsome. Food for thought, provided free of charge by malraux's diary: what are you doing? That, friends, is the thought of the day, and maybe the only thought of any consequence. What am I doing? And I mean that in every sense: what am I doing right now, what am I doing in general, what's my plan, what do I regret doing. I think it's very important to make a list occaisionally of all the things you are engaged in. See them from someone else's eyes. I am not working, I am auditioning for parts sporadically, I am dating a woman in another town, I am helping my parents move, and I am not working out. Now run that by what I want to do: act, make some money, help my parents move, get in shape so that I am employable. Food for thought.

My brother has moved to NY. He's gone from my daily life, which, while not an entirely new experience, is dreadful. The weather has been good. And by that I mean torrential. The wildfires that have blazed less than 2 miles from my house are now out for good, and so the threat of instant annihilation is now removed. I visited Tina in Sarasota on Friday, role-played with friends, and tried not to feel sick. I pretty much have to give up coffee in the mornings, I can't take the sick feeling I get in the pit of my stomach. I was not a very good guest because of it. Of course, I'm still a monster raving addict, so I get to choose between sub-human caffeine-deprived all-consuming hatred for the world in the morning and feeling sick and miserable all day. Lovely.

I get up at 10:30 in the morning and feel like I've lost the whole day. How the hell did I sleep until 12:00 for several years and not feel desperate for light? I feel cocooned by the darkness, and its shrinking me. I need to do something, I need a job. Admittedly, that last line hardly stacks up to the quasi-philosophical ramblings that preceeded it, but what can you do? I need to be engaged in something, and at least work will net me money.

...

Ok, I just got back from the emergency room. Nothing too terrible, just drove my father down to get a diagnosis and medication for his leg. We think a disk slipped in his back, so sitting is now right out for him, and standing ain't too cool neither. He'll be fine. That's a good thing, let me tell you. It's kind of odd, becuse I am 21 and my father's 61. I was always fairly acutely aware of death, and I think a lot of that had to do with my father's age. Throughout puberty I wrestled with death a lot, and there was a six month period when I was 12 where I dreaded sleeping becuase I knew I would lie awake at night, thinking about death, feeling like a chasm was opening inside of me, ready to swallow. I felt light, and the world would rock, I felt like a leaf in a tempest. Not in a romantic way, either. Death seemed like a train in a tunnel, rushing towards me, constantly getting closer, and most horrible, inevitable. I would feel the inklings of these thoughts forming in my mind when I went to bed, and I would think of anything to keep it away. Death sat in the corner of my eyes at night, waiting for me to look him in the face. I still see him. It comes and goes.

I'll write more later, when I have something to say.

�

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