memorial day part III: in space!

here is a quote from the hours by michael cunningham. it sums up my mental state since i was sixteen:

"the headache is always there...they seem sometimes to be conversing, in whispers, among themselves...."

yeah. i know. it sounds really emo. but it's pretty accurate. and it's nothing i can help. sometimes, when i'm on the verge of sleep (there's a name for this, i know) i can hear people, in my head, talking. long after the party is over and the host has gone to bed, they linger. i can hear them, muddled, through the walls. they are talking "among themselves." it's not about me. it's not even directed at me. i'm not involved in any way. i give them life. i think them up (unintentionally) and this is how they behave--completely removed from myself, completely autonomous. it's really bizarre and not altogether disturbing. it's kind of nice--like listening to music before sleep.

also, there's the headaches. which is another thing, altogether. i don't know why i get them, but i do. maybe it's because i smoke as much as i do--like a chimney--or because i have this thinking pattern, this framework i can't escape, no matter how hard i try--mental recitations, which mean a great deal to me--deeply steeped in my own religious ideals--"to pray without ceasing," i guess. everyday, though, i experience these headaches. i've almost gotten used to them. though sometimes they become unbearable and all i can do is shut my eyes and force myself to sleep.

it works. but...then again. i never have the energy to perform for my friends like they want me to--that is, i'm always tired or unconscious. i never have the energy to humor people or entertain friends, even when they expect it of me. i mean, i want to. i have fantasies about living my life to the fullest, realizing every possibility. but then, it's so much easier just to stay at home and daydream, lay in bed all day and stare up at the ceiling, nap, etc.

i don't know.

i've been listening to tiny vipers lately. a lot. they are my new beach house. great music to just feel lazy to--sink your nocturnal teeth into and wallow around in, conquer like a bedset.

i've fallen in love with jesy fortino, who performs under the moniker, and her music (her sense of music?). it reminds me of my own attempts at writing songs--sparse, fragile and never defined. mostly, though, it reminds me of the word "lackadaisically," which is my favorite word of all time.

i guess, despite being moderately successful, she still makes burritos at some crappy mexican restaurant in seattle. this makes me sad. it also makes me wonder about jeff mangum.

what's that guy up to these days?

amy says he's probably living in some crappy house in athens. while his wife is off making documentaries, he's constantly finding new things to fix or repair around the house.

this makes sense. or, at least, it's a good generalization.

like hemingway...

i asked amy about hemingway once--her opinion. she said she liked him. "hemingway wrestled lions," she said.

i asked her if that was true.

she said no. but it makes complete sense. if you were to describe hemingway to someone, someone unfamiliar with the man, the myth, his work, etc., you could probably tell them the facts and that would be OK. or you could just say "he wrestled lions" and it's, basically, the same general idea. both are perfectly acceptable conceptions of the man, though one is a generalization and the other is not.

it's a lie but it couldn't be closer to the truth.

i'm glad no one reads this. well, i'm glad no one who knows me reads this. i'm sure it's been stumbled upon, a detour on the way to some weird kind of porn. i wonder how much that person read before deciding they'd rather look at people naked.

how much of a deterrent are my thoughts and musings compared to fake tits and horse-fucking (hyphen?)? do i even stand a chance?

blah.

oh, before i forget, i've come up with a new turn of phrase:

"...at the cellular level."

no? you don't like it?

here, i'll use it in a sentence:

"man, that bitch is crazy!"

"for real?"

"at the cellular level, dude!"

(i know, really inspired stuff, here. i'm sure that's pretty offensive. oh well.)

it's synonymous with "hardcore," i think. it means "to the extreme."

so, i don't think i'll ever use it. but i like the idea.