last days

these are my last days here in stanstead. i've made up my mind to: make a concerted effort to direct a 30-40 minute short film, as best as i can, despite no motivation whatsoever due to loss of morale.

i've made up my mind to leave when it's done, or when it becomes apparent that it is impossible to do, to leave then. either way, i'm on my way out. these are my last days in stanstead.

something i noticed to-day: tansy sounds like an angel on the phone.

i slept in the boutique all day with my feet on the radiator. it's cool because i don't sleep at night. i had dreams where i complained about my feet being on fire; then i realized that my feet were on the radiator, and i was awake, and i took them off. i love you tansy i love you.

anyway i am out of this place. what will i do next, i don't know, but i can't wait to rejoin the horrible real world, painful and deadly and murderous and shocking and REAL REAL REAL. nothing will surprise me now. i am ready for anything. i can do anything.

and i'll miss this place but not too much, and i'll only miss the people. but tansy will work for me when i'm famous, and damon will produce for me when i'm famous. no doubts. taz will die and burn in hell, along with his evil father.

more on dreaming!

sent home for a bunch of hours to work on my treatment. i ended up dozing off watching the simpsons. i had dreams where i was fully immersed, i was another person. i don't remember them, but i remember waking up and being confused at where i was and who i was. i find that loss of identity refreshing.

they were those dreams that take 5 minutes irl but seem like forever in dreamland.

interesting things, these brain patterns that occur whilst temporarily comatose.

dreams are futile!

so i re-read that thing i wrote about that i dream i had about charlotte. that dream was, for sure, one of (if not the most) powerful dreams i have ever had. it affected me for days. i couldn't get over it; the sense of melancholy, and love.

but re-reading it, i am struck with its futility. what can i do about it. go and marry charlotte? she won't be the girl i want her to be. build a house that looks like every one i've ever lived in? build a robot that acts like i think girls should? what can i do.

watkanido. what can i do. create a really nice work of art about it. i hate that i've lost touch with her. i could never visit her now; it'd be too weird, re-initiating contact after so many years absent.

but, i do know what i can do. i'm going to dedicate my first film that my boss is telling me has a bunch of potential and he think can be good to her. also, everything else i make i think. yup.

why is charlotte so important to me! she represents everything that is good, or nice; everything i want girls to be! when i fantasize about idyllic situations in summer evenings with pretty girls, it's always her i'm thinking about. everyone is compared to her, on some level in my brain. she is seared there. i don't think i loved her even as much as alexandra, or maisy, or courtney; those two girls set my heart on fire and then smashed it with a spiked hammer until it was nothing but broken gristle.

i wrote a chronological list of every girl i have loved.

-courtney (2001?)
-alexandra porter (2002?)
-charlotte george (2003-6?)
-maisy pratt (2004-5?)
-tansy rudnicki (2008-present)
.

yeah those dates are really inaccurate. oh man charlotte one of these days you will be mine, along with every other girl i have ever lost to someone else not as good as i.

i love you!

fasting.

fasting is difficult. i could eat food, and no-one would know but myself. am i so important? is it so worth it to be honest with myself? i haven't yet figured out why i am doing this, though.

i guess that i just will do it. i mean it's only two more days.

merry christmas.

before it's too late. merry christmas. i don't think i've missed one yet?

the most important day of the year is christmas day. the most important part of christmas day is the morning. i spent christmas morning alone.
tansy said she had knocked on my door around 10:30. i didn't hear it? i don't know. she spent the morning with kim, a tenant in the building who kind-of sometimes helps out at the restaurant. we see her often. she has three kids - emily, stephen and molly. emily is my age, stephen 16, molly 13? kim is a crazy pagan drunk and i talk a lot of shit about her behind her back but i like her.

went up to the depanneur to get eggnog. i fought back tears the entire way because i was depressed out of my brain. before we went in, she asked me if i was going to be cranky the entire day.
the clerk was a pretty pretty cool-looking girl my age. she was wearing a scarf, you know the kind. that cheered me up immensely. she looked me in the eye when i said merry christmas and i looked back and her smile seemed big as she said the same.

in the end, though, tansy and i ended up drinking eggnog mixed with fireball whiskey, smoking weed and watching tim burton films all day. i made her bacon and eggs and toast and tea with food we had stolen from the dep the night before. our dep, you know.

beetlejuice, which was amazing, and mars attacks, and big fish.

we both fell asleep with maybe an hour left in mars attacks.

if it had to be anyone on christmas i am glad it was her i guess.

hate

12:50 AM 12/23/2008

i know that these things are true: i love you and i hate you.
i saw those boots outside your door, and i know what they mean. i tell myself to be a robot. to feel no emotion. made of steel and circuitry.
i can steel my body and abuse it and do more than i should for you, but my heart is red and giant and every look from you is shot from a ballista.

i love you and i hate that i am not good enough for you. i hate that the most.

here is how i feel. i feel jealous when you make moves on other guys, serious or not. i feel jealous when other guys make moves on you, not or serious. i feel paranoid that these things are happening at all times. i get angry about these things, and at my own inferiority + inability to deal with them.
you are lovely and everything and all the greatest things in a woman all rolled into one. you are every injustice and every reason for living in one explosion.


writing this, i realize that it is all a ploy, and i have learned these lessons:

keep secrets, even from yourself.
don't get attached.