I've another good one for you. We are turning cursive letters into knives.

I am feeling quiet. I want to do everything in the most calm and efficient way possible. I feel like I'm visiting a sick person. I am keeping my voice down out of respect. I like this tactic: I am taking care of myself and addressing how bad I feel before I even feel it.

Last night was a full moon. My horoscope said that yesterday, sex and connection with other people would be really important. If that wasn't possible, then I was to find that creative endeavors fulfilled me. As it happened, my date was canceled. I left work weepy. I sometimes get so overwhelmed with how ill-equipped I am to do anything. I can't even fail without failing. I'm bad at doing the wrong thing. I can't even fuck everything up the right way. Went to the gym and really did run at 8 miles an hour. I didn't even feel it. I have decided not to smoke and to do everything in my power not to gain weight. Enter the dragon. I am turning my knives inwards onto myself. Again? Let's not go there in the blog. (I've been to this house before, I used to live here. Look where I slept.)

Listening to a lot of Antioch Arrow. That kind of west coast post-hardcore weirdness. When I was in high school I called it 'eyeliner-core'. Get Hustle, Love Life, MeMe America, Glass Candy & the Shattered Theatre, Subtonix, Tracy + the Plastics, those Miranda July records, Erase Errata, the Need, the last Mocket record. Veronica Lipgloss and the Evil Eyes, the Judy Experience, Sharon Cheslow. All those bands that listened to the Birthday Party and drank cold coffee in foggy weather. Pacific Sounds.

This might be my favorite genre of music. I guess it's not a really a genre, actually. But so many of the things (and people) I really like are imaginary anyway.

After the gym I realized that the whole 'human connection' / ' sex' thing wasn't going to happen, not last night anyway. Almost certainly for the best. I ate dinner without any of the lights on and watched an old episode of Beverly Hills 90210, in which Brenda gets caught shoplifting even though she technically didn't take anything. It really depressed me. I played the cello for a while. Started writing a new song, but there's nothing to say. I've become a better singer in the last six years, which is pretty exciting. Killed two huge cockroaches in my room and complained to my room mates about not going out on my date.

Eventually got some nerve and called Tommy. We went to the bar, where I drank vodka + soda. I was very quiet and thoughtful and I felt really wonderful.

Today things are looking as if they might get easier. My horoscopes today all say the same thing, which is that if I act happy and capable then I will be. This seems callous to me, but it's worth a shot. I am conducting myself coolly, calmly. 40 hours since my last cigarette.

I passed Anderson Cooper on the street this afternoon. And, really, if I was looking for something to make my day, I couldn't have asked for anything better.

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