Dec 30th 2oo2

I'm still depressed. I could just leave it at that but where's the sport in brevity? I went to see "About Schmidt" today. I like going to movies by myself, the whole alone in a crowd watching some universally poignant movie thing apeals to me greatly. Jack Nicholson made me cry today. Thanks Jack. I miss my friend Bob of whom I've become quite dependent. He's in his hometown of Armstrong for another week. Fair Eleanor O'Connor has wormed her way into my heart and her iridescence is proving to be quite life affirming. I spent two days with her in victoria that were very rad. She's the perfect counter piece to my predilection to lethargy. And she's pretty. I want to love her and I guess that's half the battle. The ghosts of past infatuations do still haunt me from time to time. All I want to do is watch movies. Especially movies that glorify the american way; I want to be dazzled by Audrey Hepburn and seduced by Mia Farrow; I want things to work out for the little guy and have the odious villain humiliated in public; I want that tender moment to last a lifetime and for every moment of everyday to be like a first kiss. I'm 23 years old and if I must age I want it to be a glorious affair with my friends by my side and some kind of legacy to be proud of. I miss my Dad, even the act of writing that brings tears to the surface.

I'm done

I'm alternating between dragging my feet thru life and thrashing around restlessly like a misunderstood five year old. I got a bad attitude and no one to blame for my troubles but me. I realise now everything my parents told me about respecting one's elders was way off; i'm dumb as a mule now that i've reached adulthood. I'm stuborn and bitter and immovably obstinate; I'm restless and manic and lacking vigour; i got bad breath and bad posture and bad ideas about how to go about things; i'm turned right off by challenges and romantic meanderings; i got nothing important to say and no one who'd listen if i did. I'm burnt out and high strung and out of ideas. I'm sick of food and drink and all forms of simple pleasure, yet I'm too cowardly and self loathing to indulge in pleasures of the flesh. I'm jealous as hell of the youth and their righteous certainty; i'm bored to shit of my peers and their complacency.