The New Jerusalem

I want to feel less alone. i miss the summer in minneapolis when i stopped being torn apart and i made friends.

i watched a video of me doing comedy at stanford. i thought... i thought i am too fat to be on stage. a thing i have fought before, and thought before. nothing new. under the sun. i do not change, some people do, they have the eye of the tiger, they are dynamic, they change.

can they like who they were before?

can i like me now?

we know I do. i like myself too much. almost as much... or more than i hate myself, we'll never be certain.

do you know what a velleity is? it's a type of whim. a feeling of the lowest possible valence. something upon which one wouldn't act, but one would hope.

we can say my whole life is a velleity, but we'd be ignoring so much. i'm a storm. i'm a storm at times, not the storm i'd like to be, but a storm.

i do change, i do grow, i do learn, not all that i'd like.

oh that this too too solid flesh would melt.

Let rome in tiber melt.

guy, you need to read something to make you love life again. i prescribe a roman guy and his egyptian ladyfriend. they can help.

i wrote a thing about my funeral. and how long it'd take rebecca to realize why i wasn't responding. but i lost it. this is... i shouldn't be writing it but i am. i'm so scared about all the stuff in my head that will never be anywhere but htere. i'm feeling so mortal

I often wonder what would happen if i died. Would my mom check my email? this, everything written tonight, won't be comedy, it'll be the musings of the depressed, but blogizens, you'll survive. cuz i've got better things to do than survive. I worry so much about the number of things in my head that simply echo around in there. never come out. how much will be lost when i am? she won't check my email. she'll delegate most of it to larry and lori who don't really know me as well and will not do the things i actually would have wanted done but will wierdly harp on something particular. cleaning up the mess in my room. i have no idea. she will do the same thing, too. Mispriorotize. If i die she'll stay with the baby, because she does the things she has to do not the things she wants to. because. i can never ask as loud as lori.

I love the baby, someone has to be watching her, making her a good person. that is, mayhaps, the answer, that the thing that will be done to commemorate my passing, when it happens, should it happen, is that my mom will make my neice a wonderful person, as she would anyway, but the point is, the baby will be programmed in a fashion similar to the way i'm programmed.

I'm probably just tired. I'm mad and sad and depressed and angry. confused, bemused, refused and deluged. but she was, so long ago, probably right. i'm a bundle of flesh that makes chemicals, and the chemicals have dealt with some other chemicals i poured in them, now my chemicals are making me question this universe and myself and fear so much in both of them. Fear, i forgot that above. it lives in the middle of mad and sad. but. the worst part is i realize she's right. i'm probably just tired.