Diary of a Freak Who's Been Sorely Mistaken
February 22, 2002
I think now's about the time that I write myself out of "crazy".
Pixies blare, and Litkickers explode all around me.
I feel as if my body's been taken away and, my heart's lost it's beat. My soul's completey free, no longer held in by bones.
Is this what Jared meant by being "too inside your head"? Because, man, I'm feeeeling it now.....I think
(maybe it's just that I'm going crazy).
Because, that's what it's about. Being "off" and, still caring. Wanting to avoid the phone and, not being able to turn off your ears. Not being able to let go of the fact that if you DON'T answer, someone who's hurt or, scared or, annoyed or, feeling left behind, YET AGAIN, might have to wait. And worse, on you...
creeeeeaaak.WOW. Did you HEAR that? The house is settling!!
That calls for another cigarette, Sali!
So, remember: sweaty palms are a writer's trademark - almost as valuable as the greasy hand print swirling into a signature.
And at last, stoney eye'ed, you begin to make yourself sane, desperately trying to scribble a feeble way out of insanity.