11/4 ¡V 2005

            I can¡¦t even begin to describe how much remorse I feel for putting us in this discomforting situation. My apology would be nice to hear, I¡¦m sure you must¡¦ve said that to your friends and colleagues after we parted ways. But I think now that I have your attention and you¡¦ve finally taken your hand off of your drink, I can begin to try to tell you how I¡¦ve been (even though you never asked).

            I¡¦ve been sleeping with ghosts, lately, and since the last time we spoke, my ribs have grown more brittle and my hands have traveled places that are only soft on the outside and I lived awhile with some people that dressed me up pretty and clothed me well ¡Vbut the coke in the bathroom always found its way into my contact lens case¡K I¡¦ve taken a liking to a lot of new things; brighter things that I¡¦m sure you would approve of; things, I'm sure you¡¦d want to be a part of.

            What¡¦s that? The music playing in the background all the time hasn¡¦t left me yet and I doubt it ever will. Some inconspicuous, raunchy under-bellied bitches tried to rob me of my good time, but they could never steal my soundtrack to ambition ¡Vwhich I will get to in a minute.

            The fucking sink is still clogged up with all the expletives you used to like so much. Oh! You liked them so much! You used to yell them; verb after verb, noun after noun: cunt, fuck, pisshole, fag! And I¡¦d sit there on the sofa with a beer in hand, laughing at the way your mouth shaped the words.

            Oh, but I¡¦ve veered too far off course. I should get back to the reason why you are here and tell you why it took me ¡§so fucking long to call¡¨. The telephones were all broken, every single one of them. And the whole of Asia smirked behind their backs as they handed me telephone after telephone that didn¡¦t work. And your number faded from my hand, so badly that I could only read the zeros on the end. I should apologise, maybe. But I don¡¦t want this conversation to end!

WHAT PAST COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE TALKING ABOUT?

... I don¡¦t own anymore photographs; they¡¦re all locked away in storage. No, not under my name, but the name of my old landlord¡¦s nephew, I never got his name. What is the purpose of this? The purpose of me getting you piss-drunk? I just wanted you to listen and I figured a little vodka in your knees might help you sit still. The whole point of al of this; this musty hotel lobby bar, these velvet curtains, the drinks that you think are free but will be paying for with your credit, these odes to missing your crazy eyes ¡Voh, I¡¦ve been missing you all wrong!

            This is the point: I saw who I am yesterday and I tried to erase it all away. But the soap wasn¡¦t white enough and the water only scalded my skin and all those books I read on rivers never did shit for me because I couldn¡¦t find the congruency between myself and the continuity of the rivers. You can leave; I¡¦m going to leave you alone. Just, please excuse me for being untrustworthy all those years.

STOP STEALING MY STUFF AND PUTTING IT ALL OVER YOUR OWN LAME SITES LIKE FRIENDSTER. FIND YOUR OWN INTERESTS AND WORDS. YOU ALWAYS COPYING ME KIND OF MAKES YOU REALLY REALLY REALLY FUCKING PATHETIC.

I am currently writing a story about a woman named Tess who likes vintage day dresses and typing up essays on her rusty old typewriter and a man named Peter whose bookshelves at home are lined with books on architecture and human anatomy, but he neither an architect nor a surgeon.

They are in love, apparently. But not with each other.

Other than that:

Some people I know are kind of really unmotivating/unmotivated. Always talking the big-talk but taking the tiniest steps ever. Or not getting out of bed at all. Fucked if they could be even the least bit enthusiastic about anything. I used to feign teenage nihilism all the time, but I was never too good at it. I don't know what it is like to not care.

I'm really looking forward christmas break, which will entail christmas shopping, a ton of christmas cards, a break from school, getting my brackets off and numerous other things that should keep me busy and happy.

I have nothing to say, so I am directing you all to more interesting people that write entries that I actually read (and think that you should read, too):

1. Oki
2. Sian
3. Melanie
4. Kat

(Read on if you like... .. .)

Um, maybe I do have something to say, afterall?

q q q

Many will say that I am sincere.
Yet, the only way I know how to be
is sober and drawn away from reality.
The whole f-ucking process of evolution!
They pulled a fast on one on me
and called it "progressing" and
as we all progressed -I moved along with them,
They listened as I shuffled to my retreat.
Metric System of Currency
Systemic Research through Anthropology.
I took a piss on their books
and they decided to expel me.
Oh! The pragmaticism in their efforts
to "better the situation".
F-uck You, F-uck Them, F-uck Me.
It's the whole structure that I'm pulling at;
waiting for it to fall around my feet.

... .. . Ha! It seems all I'm really good at is cursing and confusing everyone else.

I watched 'Valley of The Dolls' last night. I don't know what I think of the movie, except that I really like it.

11/5 ¡V 2005

Dear All of My Old-Time Friends,

            Are you so surprised to hear from me?

            I should like to take this time to apologise for my indecipherable penmanship. I will be glad if you manage to get halfway through this manuscript of my desperate desires and presently captured failures.

            I would hope that you still remember me, or at least, the way that I used to be ¡Vrose-stained cheeks and clean hands. I have been well, but not as well as I wish myself to be. But how rude of me! Let me ask you how you are doing. Is the weather still warm? Are your lips still turned up? Is the music still playing too loudly?

            Over the course of these last few months I have found myself in the middle of one mindless activity after another; waking up out of living in the sleep for so long, barely remembering a thing. I used to know how to transcribe my thoughts into print, but it seems all remnants of possible writer¡¦s grace have left me. These days, I sit on bedroom floors and in corridors, cranking out line after line of poetic nonsense; recycling too much of my old-time songs (perfect for old-time friends!)

Here¡¦s what I¡¦ve got so far:

                        I took a piss on their books

                        And they decided to expel me.

            Sometimes I worry because there's nothing controversial about me and I own nothing that I truly made for myself. I have all this junk, all these romantic lyrics, all these new histories; but nothing that I truly built for myself. And I always pull the worst out of you and the other people that gravitate to me ¡Vand why do I have the tendency to play it off as your best? The more I love you, the more they disapprove of you.

            I learned my greatest strength and my greatest weakness yesterday and it¡¦s ¡§being an asshole¡¨ and ¡§being an asshole¡¨. I have so many apologies to make. I don¡¦t even know where to start.

            Now that I am assured that hardly any of you have read this far down, I can take away all the flourish and all the fabrication. Did you know that I retold all your secrets to the masses with their thin skulls and sharp ears? Did you realize that while you built me up, I brought you down? Can you see what¡¦s left of the empire I thought I¡¦d own forever, scattered about my feet?

                        I tried to suspend our best times in mid-air.

                        I guess I¡¦m also sorry I never followed through.

Yours Sincerely-

With Love I Pray You Wont¡¦ Turn Away,

Joanna