i hate trying to think of relevant things for this space.
08.15.02 @ 3:44 p.m.
So many things I want to think about, want to say... Where to start?
Well, if I go chronologically, I guess I'd start with the fact that I dreamt about a staggeringly cute boy who looked a lot like a guy I was once aquainted with, the elusive Nez Jr., whose real name I've mentioned before and in my constant worry about being found out by him, reverted to his code name. But I love his name because it's a nice name and so I'll say it. Garrett. I love the name Garrett and I always have. It's a cool name. The code name arose from my belief that he looks like Mike Nesmith's Mediterranean love child. And he plays guitar. Any way, I dreamt about this boy who was my age and looked Garrett-ish, but it wasn't him. It was a complete and utter figment of my imagination. There was a lot of innocent cuteness in my dream, and I got to harass my old classmate, Chris Martinez. It was kind of crazy, because I was supposed to be at school but the setting was actually more like a dimly lit Costco. All very odd.
The second thing I guess I'll mention is that for the last two years or so I've kept a mental list of bands I want to get to know better. I've gone through the Turtles, the Grass Roots, Tommy James and the Shondells, the Who, etc. My current investigation is U2. Everyone I know really likes them, and I like a lot of their songs I hear lately, and so they intrigue me enough to warrant me checking out a tape from the library. (Why they had a tape instead of a CD of a recent album is beyond me.) It's All That You Can't Leave Behind or something like that. Everyone tells me I should listen to more of this band, even people I don't like, like the Paul mentioned in the last entry. Every U2 fan gets inordinately excited when I mention that I'm intrigued by the band (and by Bono, I'll admit--his personality seems... intersting) and that kind of makes me laugh. Plus their Irish, and so am I. And to top it all off, once upon a time Meg told me a story about how Bono really likes the Monkees. So he must be cool.
Finally, I have to talk about the man who lived my aspirations. Chuck Palahniuk. He's my hero in some respects. A minor deity. He's fucking brilliant is what he is. I'm reading Invisible Monsters for the second time and even though I know what will happen in the end, I'm already 150 pages into it. I just picked it up this morning when I got the tape from the library. The man is such a wonderful writer; he's written a book that became one of the most popular movies in the country right now. So why is he the embodiment of my aspirations? He went to the University of Oregon, my school. He graduated with a major in journalism--my (hoped for) major. My secret, cherished dream, which I hold onto even though I'm really not a very good fiction writer, is to be an author. And someone... how do I describe this? I don't want to write crap. I don't want to write Regency Romances or any other kind of romance (no offense to Adam Felber's mom, but my former english teacher can take all the offense she wants because my primary disgust with romance writers comes from this one revolting woman who also went to my college.) I don't want to write science fiction, not that that should be equated with 'crap' or 'romance' because I do read and love science fiction. Basically, I want to write twisted, skewed realism like this man. I want to write good books. Sometimes I tell myself that I write fanfiction as practice with character development and plot and such. In the end, I think I'm going to have to live through something amazing, because I have a hard time synthesizing what I've never gone through. I can fictionalize the hell out of my life, though.
I'm going to go before my earnest desires and the music I'm listening to make me a pathetic mass of gushing emotion. I can feel something rising up inside of me, and I can't tell yet if it's happiness or sadness or what it is. Just that it's something that makes me want to burst loose. Anti-repression.
One final note: When a doctor is using liquid nitrogen to freeze off a wart, it stings like you wouldn't believe if it's near a nail or he misses the damn wart and gets your poor, innocent skin.
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
