2001-08-11 - 3:11 p.m.

Boo.

Yes, I'm back, and before the week-long traditional break I've become accustomed to. And, I'm making do on my promise to get a little more philosophical.

Love. Does it exist? I've no idea. Debt. Oh yes, that exists alright. I'm in the throes of it right now: I spend hours worrying about my financial situatrion, and I have to constantly remind myself that those radio commercials for those 'drowning in debt' are not being specifically targeted at me. In a sense, this is good. I'm beginning to suspect that I'm a bit of an obsessive personality, that I get too focused on certain things, unhealthily so. I have no real idea if this is true: I can hardly get a second opinion from myself, and no one else is really with me enough to let me know. Aside from those who read this, I guess. Anyway, this current obsession with debt may actually help me stop obsessing about emotions. I do that a lot, too. Actionhero recently wrote me a letter of support in reaction to the last two entries, told me I had strength, and it would light my way in the darkness. This confirms one thing, at least: actionhero really is one of the best friends I could have. I miss him, even if I do got the diary to keep tabs on the man. I miss my friends from college. I miss not worrying about debt.

I miss Her, too. Fucking capital letters. I don't believe in Love anymore, and I still can't stop thinking about her. It's been getting worse since I broke up with Tina. I keep remembering Her, something, some accident or twist a day took, something she did, and I swear I feel my chest squeezed. A bit. Not suffocation, just ... well, pain. My heart hurts. And then I remember why I shouldn't be doing that, that I'm probably mis-remembering the past, building up those accidents into something it wasn't. And that's certainly true. If I'm not obsessed now, God knows I was for a long time. Means I can't trust the slightest thing I think about her, I've got to move on, for chrissakes. Then I remember how my other attempts to move on ended up. Dangerous stuff, moving. If the last three weeks have taught me anything, it's that. You never know what you'll inadvertantly leave behind.

And finally, I remeber that I'm not making it all up. There were those moments, and other moments that came later, there was something. At least I'm not insane, I think, he said to himself out loud. Sigh. Anyway, I'll end up here with a poem I scribbled out at work. It's pretty insignificant, but I like it, anyway.

" "

screams asparragus as

boiled lobsters lounged in

heavy Heating-Pots, while

mindless monkeys dressed in nines

bring fat cats cook's creation.

By the way, two good songs that have been sitting around my head for the last few days. Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah and Ben Fold's Five's Mess. Give em a listen, why dontcha.

�

�

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