you and i got something but its all and then its nothing to me. somewhy those words found their way to the surface just now after - years probably - drowning somewhere back in the murky depths. who is to say whether i am in the best or worst possible place in life? its no fun to complain all the time, i would rather write something beautiful or insightful but lately nothing seems to be the case. beauty is just words about feelings that i never wrote so i send them off. its always been the way we do. theres something holy about nights like this and books like that and music such as all this combined. and you are missing as usual - i would talk if someone would talk to me, i would laugh at someones joke, i would walk out if you gave me a reason to, i would cry if something hurt me that bad, i could smile at any little thing but nothing here does it for me. as for now i am shocked and horrified at the human condition, at myself for writing all this and feeling all i am feeling because there are billions of people that wish they were me. back all swollen puffy feeling and if i could see it now im sure it would look and feel like a burnt hotdog, black crackly skin flaking off pink core and its numb all at the same time. damn fireplace lowlight warm pepsi. i am well off middle class white and with prospects. i have everything to lose. well not everything, i stand to gain quite a bit too. its hard to say hell, i have an entire life ahead of me because i am just as liable as anyone else to die tomorrow and my entire life would be behind me. i cant look forward to the afterlife as hard as i try. whatever happens happens here. im not stupid or slow or fat or ugly or poor and i have a personality. im going places. i still dont deserve it. i dont deserve what i read or who i know - its why i am losing. the ability to write, to play, the interest whatever. if i had a riviera i might enjoy life a bit more. if cruising in a big steel cocoon could make me happier i would try it. according to those with say i dont deserve it. being a teenager automatically makes me incapable of surviving life. at least some power would make life more interesting. i apologize for being an asshole on purpose all those times and i hope you wont hold it against me. i know my limits and i havent lost any friends solely on that basis. i lose them because of who i am and who they are and the fact that those two just dont get a long anymore. its a shame too, all the prospects. all that future. maybe ill die tomorrow. i still havent played music live though ive been congratulated for smooth licks by those who seem to know. i wouldnt. i still admire those on television and hate it when someones beautiful personality turns into something less - attractive. shallow i know but its only human isnt it? i shouldnt worry. i am probably the same way in the passengers seat though. i sat down here with no idea what to write or how to go about doing it. now ive sat here and wrote like i knew i would figuring out what to say on the way and it doesnt look like i have written anything at all. just jumbled thoughts on a page. not explaining what i did today. at least i have a little dignity. i am no closer to writing a novel though i would love to someday. im no closer to owning a guitar with a cutaway thought i would love to someday. i am no closer to sex or a soulmate thought i would love to someday. the combonation of the two is something i look forward to. unless my life is behind me. i wish i knew. and im glad i dont. i dont wish to know what you are thinking because it might hurt my feelings and you sure as hell dont need to know any more than i tell you. ive grown tired of being wary of offending people unless it is in my best interests not to. and even then there is a limit to how much is acceptable and how long all this should apply for anyway. may maybe. june. by then i should have a speech prepared for graduation. i, the kid that writes sometimes, should write something. in truth, though, if it were to be me i think i should free-bullshit it. on stage in front of people, just stand and present thoughts on whatever the hell is happening. its overwhelming to say the least. maybe i will sit and play something and someone will sing for me. maybe it will be open-mic night. maybe my life is behind me already and i dont know it. you are lucky, you realize that? to be reading this on a computer. you have it all. i saw today that the war on iraq is costing us a lot of money. enough money already to immunize every child on the planet for every standard disease for forty-eight years. forty-eight years everyone, already, and we keep spending the money to kill middle-easternors and free oil and our own soldiers die.... but this isnt a political discussion, it is a collection of thoughts. deep thoughts, like that god hates me and my car and maybe we will perish together. wouldnt that be ironic? my sleeves are too short but i dont care. i can just roll them up and look like the same goof i have for the past couple years. maybe harrys will be open tomorrow. they always are. i dont know why i even ask. the night sky is one of the most beautiful things i have ever seen. supernovas blow my mind. space and time and stars that twinkle are uncertain. visits arent. i cant look forward to anything farther than wake for now but maybe farther later. farther north, farther west. studying abroad, studying abreast. visiting the nunnery/pirate school for dinosaurs and being shown new york city by someone that cares. all i can do to believe in that shit. if i make it that far it will be a miracle. if we make it that far. i told myself a long time ago you were worth being friends with but i never thought i would hear from you after a month or so had passed. how long has it been? years, kid, and i still know you, thought not as well. and from you another, thought we dont talk anymore. maybe there was a future sprown somewhere in there, prospects kid, prospects. prosthetics. i might bite your ear off. you will never know will you? you and your money. chills cross my back like hockey players. cake. i told myself i would eat pudding tonight but i didnt. i got beautifully and astoundingly sidetracked and ended up over pressure cooking myself with an uncold coke. a coke, jesus who am i. it should be a pepsi. but sometimes after fifty pepsis, a coke is a nice refreshing treat. i wish they still made them with cocaine. i remember a long time ago walking in and out of that macdonalds in fuquay before it closed down. they had these fake stone floors outside, that were warm and high and you had to step up to get to them. i have memories of the ball pit and being a pilot and a racecar driver and being scared to go down the slide at wet n wild. i always thought there would be some tiny plastic trim ground out that would tear me in two or at least gash my leg a little. and water splashes in my eyes and the fake stone ground is warm and i walk back to the car in the shade and climb in the back not the front. its closed now as is the old harris teeter which i claim my mother says i have memories about too. i just dont remember them. my fingers heavily dance over the keys in such precise practised calculated movements it amazes me. whatever i think is transferred to the screen quite expediently though my thoughts automatically slow down to type and stay the same to read. im pretty sure ive read so much that my mind has a hard time working any faster than i can read. and most of the time there is a little narrative voice inside me talking about my thoughts anyway. nothing i can do about that. im working toward comprehending thoughts and phrases and things on paper so i wont have to read anymore. i can just see and understand. i suppose hearing is a bit different unless it is a foreign or mysterious language and you have to hear it well and repeat it to yourself and analyze every syllable and make words and then translate and all instead of just thinking it in damned french to begin with. i can watch my typing with one eye - the left one, because the right one is closed shut and i cant get it open vary well, im not sure why this happens. im not sure why the devil touches me. im not sure why anything happens or where it is all going or where i came from. all i know is that the way things are going we will still be talking in ten years and i swear kid, ill tell you when i get there.