ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- \"I wish your body was not so warm to me / just so you know / And all it was something beautiful\" - American Head Charge Some things you just have to let go. So I slept too long today; big deal. In retrospect, it was probably good for me. What would I have done had I gotten out of bed at a decent hour? Gone out and spent money? Realized the crushing and debilitating stagnance of my day-to-day existence? Read a damn book? Who needs that shit? I ate some pizza, did some writing, attended to some toiletries, then went to rehearsal. The script that I'm doing with Kelle, "Stuck", is going very well. I managed to not laugh two of the three times that she choked me today and we just had a good time bantering and adding lines and being goofballs. Ted stepped in for the first time in his cameo as a Japanese tourist that is the stereotype times seven. We laughed our asses off. It was fun. Then, it was over. I walked for eighty minutes back to my home. On the way, this beefy tanned peckerwood walks up to me from a taco shop and says "Hey, white boy, give me a cigarette!" I laughed and pulled my pack out of my pocket, saying How can I resist a pleasant request like that? He took the cigarette and said "Hey, sorry for being such an insensitive asshole" with no tone of apology in his voice. I said It's alright and walked on. What an ass! I came home and my beefy tanned peckerwood roommate had the Padres game on the radio downstairs while he sat upstairs and talked on the phone and dicked around on the internet. I smoked a cigarette and waited for him to get off and now, here I am. I don't know what to do with the rest of the evening. I suppose I could go see Makana over at Sparky's or maybe do some Karaoke at The Ould Sod or maybe I could stay here and read a damn book. Who knows? I don't. Some shit you've just got to let go. If you respond to every affront to your moral sensibilities, you'll spend your whole life with your fists balled up and your stomach in a twisted knot of destruction. Just breathe, smile, laugh, and keep walking. That's what I do: I just keep walking. I've been thinking a lot lately. About a lot of things. My mistakes, regrets, minor and major fuck-ups. Teresa, for instance. That was a mistake. Not getting with her, but getting away from her. She only wanted what we all want: to feel like she mattered. I didn't give her that. Couldn't. But she did matter to me. I just can't convey that to people. Nothing seems to matter to me for any prolonged period of time. Even this diary gets its fair share of neglect. Even I get my fair share of neglect. I don't know. It wasn't right what I did to her, but at the time it didn't seem right what she was doing to me. But what did she do, anyway? Ask me to open up? Ask me to talk to her? Ask me for some kind of affirmation? Some kind of recognition? Some signal that she mattered, that she wasn't wasting her time with me? What's so wrong about that? I'm weak and stupid and useless and, again, stupid. I have no right to make judgements towards anyone. Except maybe George W. Bush; that guy's fucking stupid. 8:56 p.m. - 2004-06-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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