July 01, 2003

Here it is, 3:30 again and I'm still up feeling like it is the afternoon instead of the dead of night. What shall I grace you with this evening that will thrill and astound you with my wit and cleverness? Probably nothing.

I found this site a while ago and it traumatized me in a way. You have to dig around a bit but there are all sorts of atrocious links to the weird ways people pervert perfectly normal cartoons and television shows and turn them into crazy insane sex romps and stuff. Fan art of Gilligan humping the Professor, characters from Pokemon having sex with Pikachu, dogs and cats...together. I want to feel more philosophical about it all, but I'd be reaching. Right now all I really feel at all is that I should be writing or painting or doing something with my hands. Sometimes this helps, but other times it's formless and meaningless like masturbation. That's something else I could do, but why? I wish I had something to read or that there was some sunshine or thunderstorms out right now so that I could bask or rail. There is too much to not do late at night, but still it's home.

That's probably weird, maybe normal people don't make their homes at night but of brick and mortar. I do though, it might be the most frustrating part about having my unwanted visitors living here. I can't act out my normal nightly routine without waking some silly dog into a fit of barking, can't dance around the house singing old tunes from the 80s or pace the hallways to muddle through some creative bubble. So instead of having my creative efforts turning outwards they're putting their designs on the inside, giving birth to these strangely surreal commentaries here and on the various lists and forums I attend to. It's times like these that I wish I were more humble or less principled and could bring myself to drive over to the house of my ex-friends the vampires and flaunt my sarcasm and sharpen my innuendo on their tiny brains. I can't though, it wouldn't be right and I need to be right now that I'm growing older. Being wrong failed to suit me I think, rebellion wasn't an exercise in growth or development but the process of finding out how bad a person I could become. I've quit smoking, drinking, drugs, sex and friendship for the most part. I allow myself to dabble in each mostly in the way a person might occassionally hover their hand over a flame to be sure that it might burn them. I don't know where this process leads though, perhaps next I should try fasting. Denial isn't the hardest task for me, maybe it should be more difficult. Certainly some people have tried to convince me of that fact. Experience has shown me what a monsoon I can become if I don't use restraint though, while that sort of powerful release in a person seems to attract people in some way I don't like the way it draws me out into such a completeness of chaos and then sends me back down into the depths of mournful calm. I don't understand how people misunderstand me so, fail to recognize the prisons I weave about myself. I'm casually the tornado, but seriously the stone. Perverseness is my friend, down the path into my sense of humor - if I can lull the people around me into failing to see my contradictions then surely the world's natural state is the absurd. Is everyone full of so much stealth and soap, wondering if the rest of the world perceives what treasures and nightmares they hold hidden? People conversationally confide in me that normality is as boring as I suspected, but here on the fringe at 4am...could I show another what they seem to desire? I don't think I'm capable of being tied into the rest the world much anymore, walking easily past comrades and halls making short conversations. I can pretend to, but eventually I start feeling dangerous or else my mind escapes. I try to practice my faces when I'm at my daughter's house, not on her but on the mass of people who always seem to be there. I've worn the masks before and I doubt anyone ever suspected, slip one on and disappear my true self to re-appear as the public. It would be easier to explain if heard voices or caught conversations from aliens from my toothbrush, but surely it is insanity just the same.

Or maybe, just maybe it is just really late at night.


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