ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- \"Tilt your head and turn into the setting sun\" - Stars I'm seated here at my roommate's computer desk looking at grooming tools that look like torture devices. I'm thinking I could "surf the web" or something of that nature, but my curiosity isn't quite that pressing. My other roommate is watching "Kill Bill, Vol. 1" at volumes that are completely unnecessary. I went to my old apartment today to pick up a hat and vest to loan to another actor in the show. Even though I moved out almost seven months ago, I still have stuff there. The place is a mess. And my old roommate's not really a messy person. She's unorganized, yes, but not sloppy. The state of the apartment seemed to be evidence otherwise. I'm wondering how she's doing. I've called her repeatedly to no avail. She broke up with her girlfriend of over a year about four months ago and she's really torn up over it. I'm thinking that she still hasn't moved on, and I'm left to wonder if she ever will. I'm worried about her. I wish she would call me. I had very strange dreams last night. I was in a cable car, gliding over a city that I didn't recognize. The cars would flip and roll on a strange trajectory, and I was trying to spit a mouthful of water onto a carnival booth near my stop. I got off at the top of the tallest building in the city, an enormous glass structure that dwarfed everything around it. I jumped from rooftop to rooftop, pursuing a shadowy figure. Despite the height and danger of my predicament, I felt no fear. I finally landed on the slanted rooftop of my old house in Conroe, Texas. I crept around the side and found Bo standing on the balcony. Only it was actually Bo, Becki, Katie, and another person whom I couldn't identify all embodied in one. I kissed him/her/it passionately and fell back into a seat. It went to sit down, and split into its four distinct parts. Each wore a dark gray t-shirt depicting its purpose. There was "precognition", "yesterday", "what could be" and "what is". Becki was "what could be" and I stared at her as each of them spoke to me, telling me things that I should know. I heard none of it. I was too busy staring at Becki. The other three left, and I swept her in my arms and kissed her for what seemed like days. We pulled away and she arranged for us to meet later on, stating that it was the way it had to be. Then I am alone. I am standing in my bathroom, getting ready to shave. I stick my tongue out, and see in the mirror that it is hairy and disgusting, and has a large pimple on it. I squeeze the pimple, and it balloons up to a yellow boil on my tongue before bursting in a high, wide arc and landing on the sink to my left. I prepare to give it another good squeeze and make sure that's everything when I wake up. Weird! I don't know what it means. Probably nothing. I'm restless. I think I want to go and sing some karaoke or maybe hit the Ken Club, as I have never been there and it is a stone's throw away from my house. I just don't know anymore. No matter what I do, it never seems to be enough. I can't stay active enough to feel that I'm not wasting my time and life away. It makes me feel helpless and useless and I hate feeling that way. I sat down to write last night and found that I couldn't. I had nothing to say. I tried to work on my book and couldn't do it. My past is painful and unpleasant and, luckily, over. There's no need for me to go through it again. Why do I feel that I must? Is it an effort to learn from my mistakes and abolish the uneasiness I currently feel? That would be nice, but it sounds futile. What do I know, though? A whole lot of nothing. 10:33 p.m. - 2004-05-13 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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