Time: 11:37 a.m.
I had a really fucking weird weekend. I did all sorts of shit that was really fun, I guess, but now I'm all pointlessly moody about it. I want to do the logical thing here, which would be to type out a rundown of the events, and allow the act of doing so to permit my thoughts on the matter to logically self-organize, which is basically what this diary shit is for, but I feel like any problematic shit won't come out in that and a) I'll sound moronic and b) I won't make anything better for myself.
I'm sure this makes zero sense to anyone reading this, but like whatever.
like, I dunno. I have such a dirty mess inside my head. it can really freak me out sometimes how my emotions are so thoroughly disobedient sometimes, like I can somehow throw whole metaphoric truckloads of logic and reason at them and they sit there, defiant and sulking. sometimes, ex post facto, I'm able to find some outside factor to angrily shake my finger at, like "oh shit, that day was wack cuz I forgot to eat", or something along those lines, but more often than not it's not the case, and I can spiral into some nasty pit of morose nonsense in which all the little things in this life really bug me, which actively prevents me from taking care of all the little things in this life, etc etc etc.
like whatever, yeah, I'm sure everyone has 'off' or 'wack' days. sorry, cuz I seem to be having one. it's just like that sometimes.
yeah the deal with this weekend is that basically some very very small things happened to me that for some reason had enormous staggering emotional consequences and so when I'm acting moody and wack about it, my friends (bless their hearts) ask me nice friend type questions like "what's wrong?", etc, and if I don't tell them they get all morbidly curious and pester me for info, which if I don't dish out I look like an ass, but then if I actually tell them what's bothering me, the things that went down (as I said) seem very very small and inconsequential, and furthermore, they're not easy to interperet with any sort of validity if you live anywhere outside of my personal frontal lobes, which is like everyone and so my freinds, being good friends, try to give me somes sort of advice based on what I've told them, and the advice is so completely malformed and useless (albiet delivered with the best of intentions) that it really makes my mood worse, cuz then I get on some sort of teen-angst-style 'no one understands me' type of trip, which is a) nonsense and b) further depressing cuz I haven't been a teenager for five years, which is 1/2 of a decade, and western society in general would have me believe that I should have outgrown this type of imbecilic sensation by this time in this life.
basically yeah. at this point I really don't care if you're not reading, becuz really the point actually is that I am in fact writing, which even though I'm writing in a way that I'm positive is maddeningly vague and irritating, this whole excersize is in fact helping me to organize my convoluted and tangled thoughts and pointlessly reeling emotions, and all that, as I mentioned a bunch of paragraphs ago, so the 'journal' is at least semifunctional in its role in my personal fucking psyche, yes yes.
so yeah sorry this entry is some bullshit personal 'feelings' type crap but if you want something entertaining, you can go google for the word 'monkey' or some shit. you'll be just fine.
POSITIVE END NOTE: the following pieces of music will make you cry hot tears of joy sometimes:
- edan, 'rapperfection'
- cibo matto, the whole fucking 1st album
- shuttle 358, 'isopgn' (esp, while watcing the sun set on the hudson over jersey)
- jts3k, 'this shit'
I love you, fo'real. I really do. wordup.