May 14th, 2002

(no subject)

Watching City of Lost Children last night with Mom and the Sensitive Artist. In a free public venue full of Harp and people I love. (Shut up, 2 = full) It didn't occur to me when SA told me what was playing on the phone.. how supremely miserable the last (first) time I saw it was. Alone, while the Cuckoo slept, running to return the tape before he woke up so I wouldn't have to face his thought process inaction. And it was so alone.. my SMRT friends so far away and nothing but "What's going on? Huh-huh.. I don't get it." close at hand. (Makes with the "careful what you wish for" clamour) Of course, I just recently mentioned how much fun he can be, or touched on it. But how fucking bottomed out I got, feeling like such a stranger.. exactly like those videos that try to portray being high.. people all up in your (my?) face but it's just a confusing, isolating blur of colors moving in untouchable patterns. What you want, it's not there. I had some last night.
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