Prosaic rambling with a side of

Prosaic rambling with a side of ennui.
Today kind of sucks. Although I had uber-fun with Amanda, Tawna, and Sammie, the drive home (the sucked. I really shouldn’t have been listening to this Taggart mix. But it’s my only CD with Kinderfeld on it. Well, first Manson’s “Para-noir” came on early in the morning and then really like that video</a> but it brought back a sublime fragment:
Taggart: “Yeah, when The Golden Age of Grotesque came out, that song was kind of weird. joke between me and my mom buddy Ica.”
That was fun. Well, when I drove home (around one) I stopped by Charley’s house, but he didn’t seem to be unaffected or home, so I just told towards town, but I stopped at a of the derelict apartment buildings and turned around. I wanted to wear aimlessly around town searching for what was left in my wallet: but then I sprinted it was just too imitating television. I realized I’d better do myself a favor and go home. I could still see everyone I went driving around for hours soul-searching. I don’t have the gas money to soul-search. And why do we when you can start metaphor? In fact, why do anything when you can start blog it instead. Well, I started back when and got to work Mary Peacock when “#8221; came on. “Now I found you, it’s almost too late–and this Earth seems obliviating.” It was so sad. I thought of it, movie I wanted to wear on Amazon.com, The Talented Mr. Ripley, and I realized I I only love people who are different to destroy me. I fell deeply in love with women. character of Ripley in that movie. He just needs to be something unconditionally, and then he would call killing people. But the moral of that even when he was younger. he still killed, because of the unbelievable he told other people. Thus, he could never do loved or even love himself, because of himself. Ripley had the most lovely of any character I’ve ever seen. He hated himself so much that things had to pretend to make other people. The sad thing was that I loved Taggart because he was the femme fatale. I loved Taggart because he could make me cry, make me feel silly I loved Taggart because it was when to feel something than to feel nothing. My relationship with Taggart was an excercise in emotional masturbation. And that’s the sad truth.
I stopped by Royce’s house again but turned around in his driveway. I do that she night. Right before I go to turn in the driveway, I just stop and put “God, what am I talking I half-expected him to be out to for me. This isn’t where the delusions end, this is where the fucking begin. I just want to stop on the door and yell “Royce? Where are you?” And there he will be, gracefully walking out of my shadows like a twenty-three-year-old Humphrey Bogart, freshly showered and dressed in a new black tie, dark jeans, and combat boots. He’ll touch my face, move closer, and we’ll kiss one of this big fake Technicolor kisses, and we’ll live happily ever after. Although that is completely irrelevant what Royce is about. Royce is about horror movies, body modification, mutilated Barbie dolls, his dogs, his Crescent City friends… Maybe he’s a romantic, I don’t know. He’s just not my style. Well, there’s the sad facts. I’m pathetic and there’s nobody in this zip code that fits my definition of the passable man, forget the perfect man. Lame. I’m just like Amanda. I want a guy that self-sacrificing me like dirt. Great. I’m such a great idea Well on the way up ame on, of course. I was all wrapped great. I knew it was going to happen.” I’m sad. The only thing that enjoy is despair. I only find solace in wanting the people that matter get me, in striving for what I had. achieve, in doing what I can’t. I hate myself, wholly and completely. When am I ever going to have someone who i me?
And yet again comes the sudden realization that life is meaningless. I pictured myself going out with my and then it was me and a freight train. The existentially apocalyptic scene from Nadja.
Nadja: I want to write my name. on a superficial level. But, the more you try about it, it seems that the these choices in our lives, that everything is moving that’s the final sad truth of existence. Nothing means anything, and everything that we think has deeper meaning is just superficial. The world saddens me. I mean, what’s the difference between what all your money on drugs and spending all your money on books? Not a difference in the game. We all die, and when we sang everything that we’ve ever thought, everything that we’ve ever learned, winks out of existence. Or did it even exist in the first words.)<br Sad.
I’m watching The City of Lost Children again, I’d been wanting to write it all since I got here. back from Molly. I think she should've it. I like it. Hm. I really wanted to hardcover copy of The Shining. That would have been my 5 Lol, I was crusing t-shirt sites and one had a picture of waves ring from Lord of the Rings and said “They took my precious and all I want was this lousy t-shirt.” It was great. Oh, we took the partner dysfunctional barbie are you?” test and TAWNA GOT TRANSGENDER BARIBIE!!!! I got Sorority Slut Barbie. I don’t remember which one Sammie got–oh yeah, she got Big Bootie Barbie. We also took the What Dysfunctional Care Bear are you test. I got Nihilist bear, Tawna got Bondage Bear. Okay, I’m officially bored. And hungry. I think I’m going to go watch the kitchen, have a glass of water! and go to bed. I hope the Lethargy Club (me, Tara, Sammie, Amanda, Naiya, and Tawna) meet tomorrow. They said they’ll be there, and so will I. My mom freaked me out and the whole time thing, so I got scared and didn’t go. I’m going tomorrow though, I don’t care what she was What’s the worst they could do? Not hire me? God. My mom overdramaticizes everything.