Comments on My Journal (1998-9)

This is a public thought journal. James isn't responsible for dementia of others.
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Untitled by Anonymous on 03/09/98 17:18

write your thoughts here



Untitled by Anonymous on 03/09/98 17:20

write your thoughts here
The sun is out today and yet I am not outside
enjoying it. I can only see the beautiful clouds
drift by from a window. Isn't this how I always
look at things? Through some form of separation.


finally by Anonymous on 03/10/98 19:15

sometimes when you finally, trully, believe that
there is not hope, that there is not meaning, that nothing
is special, that is when you have the most beautiful
moments of your life. in that respect, the littlest
something makes all the difference in the world.



Untitled by Anonymous on 03/12/98 03:04

Why do I keep getting into these awkward situations? Is it something I'm doing to myself?
It'd be nice to get a good resolution for a second
time.



Untitled by Anonymous on 03/14/98 23:32

I agree, Newton was smarter than Einstein



Untitled by Anonymous on 03/24/98 15:30

there's always the doorknob


Untitled by Anonymous on 03/26/98 00:57

a "she"? what for? to overcome your loneliness?
the sun you thought would make you feel better,
you say didn't. the people you say made you feel
good, no longer do. you had pleasant feelings,
but now you're scavenging for them again. such
feelings do not depend on anyone or anything.
they're not short-lived. you're too radical
and idealistic people say. no, i am just a
changing human being. i am aware of how enslaved
and attached to tradition, beliefs, memory...
my mind is, but it is through my awareness that
this imprisonment is being breached. it gets
lonely sometimes because it seems everyone
else is too caught up with their own
superficial thing. too much hypocrisy. why
am i afraid of appearing deviant? why am i so
scared? too many explanations. the more
explanations are offered, the more i am chained
back. so caught up in explanations, my head hurts.
i cannot be free if my head is contaminated
with headaches, tradition and all the rest.



so sad by You know on 04/01/98 00:50

How sad... Try that shit, what's it called? Oh, crack rock.


steamed white rice by a new she on 04/15/98 16:25

Decisions.
Unavoidable, yet formidable.
I wish someone would make them all for me.
Maybe time will tell.
There is no time.
He won't wait forever.
It felt so right, yet at the same time so wrong.
Don't want to be hasty. Don't want to hurt anyone.
But whichever way I turn, someone will be hurt.
Whichever way I turn, I'll never know what could
have been.
Passion or Stability?
Heart or Mind?
If I'm not careful, I'll end up with neither.
I'll end up with loneliness.
Maybe that's what I need.


Untitled by Anonymous on 04/19/98 04:40

write your thoughts here
drunk. das ist das antwort.
shut up
eat shit
status quo, status schmoe.
i enjoy mastrubating with my asshole, not my dick.


Untitled by Anonymous on 04/21/98 22:27

understanding doesn't come in fragments, james. it
is complete. otherwise you're still the "old" you
and what you claim to understand is merely an illusion.
look at your desire to cling to a "new" she.
look at your desire to feel wanted.
there's nothing new there.
a mere response of your insecurities.



Untitled by Anonymous on 04/26/98 22:55

lo que sera, no lo es. i hope that you have more
sunny days, james.


Untitled by Anonymous on 05/14/98 21:46

bye james.



and Do I dare? by Do you know who I am? on 06/02/98 01:42

I�m not the poet that you are, maybe if I were things would be easier, but I am not.
And I am surely not she, but I wish I were.
I wish I�d understood you better before, but I was too caught up in my own self.
Maybe someday, but likely not. (damn it, you�ve depressed me.)
I�ll keep dreaming and hoping, but eventually I will discover the reality.
Three months seems forever�




Untitled by Anonymous on 06/06/98 13:06

attachment breeds sorrow.
most of us are attached , we cling to a person
to an idea, to a belief...and when the object
of our attachment loses its significance, we
find ourselves empty, insufficient, lonely...we
strive to achieve or maintain a particular state,
or to recapture one that has been and is gone.
our emptiness we try to fill by clinging to
something else which again becomes the
obeject of our attachment.



almost 5' by just a girl. on 06/07/98 17:11

and at nite i can hear the train off in the distance and if i close my eyes tight enough i can see it's light, lighting up the sky and raping the glory of the moon. and in my car on that road where the tree lets lights sparkle through i cry and i yell at him all of the hims, i pull over at his house and get my feet wet in the creek that might be a river if the rain ever falls. and each time he all the he's looked at me with hate and pushed with rage yell at me do to their vanity and self destructive nature, i step back and close my eyes i can hear the train and the pound on my face and my body to the floor is me under that train and the warm water dripping down my face is from my tears in the sunlite, then i go to the creek and wash away, my blood, my fear, my only evidince suitable for court and i go back to him. all the hims. yes i always go back for more and my voice disappears soon it will be gone. . .



Ode to Jun Wu by The Nightfly on 06/17/98 23:14

oh Jun Wu
you are so true
so good with MIPS
just like Gladys Knight and the Pips
so good with Xspim
the future ain't dim
oh Jun Wu
my heart weeps, boo hoo hoo




Sleep. by ???? on 06/24/98 02:42

You said you would be there
if I ever needed you.
Well, now I need you. I mean,
I really need you.
And you aren't there;
you can't be there.
But it's not your fault,
so it can't bother me.
But it does.

Someone else is coming, though,
so it will be OK.
Everything will be fine.

ILY, J.



Untitled by Anonymous on 07/10/98 16:10

spontaneity for once regrettable



by on 07/13/98 15:13


Untitled by Anonymous on 07/13/98 15:13

just what i had wanted, to look at the
sky as i rest and wonder. funny coincidence
that it is from the same spot. a coincidence
that is also quite lovely. i hope that she
doesn't come. i want to be here alone. hopefully,
the other two will not show up either. and what about
the people eating outside? maybe i will see it
among them. and then perhaps i'll be able to sleep.



Untitled by Anonymous on 07/14/98 17:44

today not even the engines woke me up. overslept
for half of it. and he was just getting ready for
the next nine hours. i like to watch him move
around. i like to watch them approach him.
i can't see the face of this one. no. it's not
the one i was expecting to see.
hey mister, don't you ever go to the bathroom?
go on if you have to. i'll keep an eye on your
shop and another on my temptation to grab some
of your goodies. maybe today i'll get a hot dog.

so strange how they all appear and disappear at
the same time. they'll be gone in an hour. i wish
they wouldn't because i like to see them play.
i used to have several of those, but i never learned
how to release them.

i recognize her. it's not her. even if it was her,
she wouldn't talk to me since i have nothing to
talk about that would be of interest to her. and
yet like this she offers me her friendship.

and who are they? now i feel like I'M the one being
watched. that finger. twice. but was it the same
color? with hair sticking up like that, who
wouldn't notice.

don't get too excited. a little too big. it's only
a masculine woman. a closer look indicates that it's
a man.

mere paranoia perhaps. the finger may have been pointing
in another direction, but i may have twisted it
toward mine. i can' remember anymore.



Untitled by Anonymous on 07/16/98 23:50

the inception of a new spirit has burgeoned.
or has it been bludgeoned?


Untitled by Anonymous on 07/17/98 17:40

the same numbered spot was enough for a moment. i
couldn't resist not knowing what the other side
looked like, so i tried to break in. it was so much
easier today. linen for someone who isn't here? surely
it's not for me. no. she will be here next week.
not in with me!!?! no, dear, ...over in that one. oh!
thank you for leaving the door open. you know you did,
you just didn't puff it. i appreciate that. i'll
be out before then.

good god! i can fall out from this one. look out and
this can turn into a guillotine.



Untitled by Anonymous on 07/17/98 21:46

FUCK THIS DAMNED RETROGRESSION!!! FUCK THE IDEALS!!!
AND THE HELL WITH THIS PATHETIC STAGNATION!!! learn
from experience? the hell i don't. i live
from experience. i live from the dead fucking past,
the memories, the burdened thoughts.
if i knew how to live, experience would not matter.
if i knew how to live, i wouldn't ask what the
meaning of life is. if i knew how to live, i wouldn't
be here. yes sir--IT IS time to get ready to leave.


Untitled by Anonymous on 07/30/98 10:03

ok. let me do this again.



Untitled by Anonymous on 08/08/98 19:07

we miss your thought journal. ARe you still alive?




Me by to You on 08/23/98 22:25

Yucky Red and Green Female Sheep!



Untitled by me on 09/10/98 09:37

you are not allowed to complain about being lonely
so you're lonely at 3am, what about 3pm? or noon?
or 6:45? at least at some point there's somebody.
consider yourself lucky.


Untitled by Anonymous on 09/10/98 20:06

whoever "me" is, considers that "one" should
be thankful, or lucky as "me" would like to think,
for his/her or anybody's? presence. loneliness,
here of course, doesn't mean the emptiness of a
room that is usually crowded, but rather the inner
emptiness of a human being.



Untitled by Anonymous on 09/29/98 01:12

and did i really think it would be better after
this one? surely, if i had found this other, i
would have probably reacted with the same
apathy. the security scavenging which i disdain,
the psychological dependancies which i repel, and
yet all of which i have and keep accumulating.
understanding through another? no stupid. so what
if things seemed to overlap? is it so hard to
stand alone?



Lonely? Never again... by the She on 09/29/98 01:35

I am the she.
and I can write about HIM,
except my writing is not encrypted
like his - everyone knows who I'm talking about.
The great poet.
I love him. What can I say?
He writes poetry about me
He tells people about me
He does every little thing I ask of him,
or at least he tries to.
But these aren't the reasons I love him.
these are just extras.
I love him because he's the most kind-hearted,
sincere, honest person I've ever met;
What can I say?
He's the best thing that has ever happened to me.
I'm the luckiest person alive.


Untitled by Anonymous on 09/30/98 00:34

a fucked up fanatic? sounds like you've turned
into someone's fetish. and yet all the while
claiming to love. bravo! do more, be more obedient...
and guess what? you'll be loved even more. can we
set up another proportion here? does love have
reasons?--but please feel free to make your list
longer. doesn't the rest of the world?
is this too hard to understand? is the truth not
obvious to you? is this attachment not a mere cover-up
of your insecurities? (because insecure you are, as i found
out. talking email? but thanks for trying to "listen",
you kind-hearted soul.) sure you won't be
lonely as long as there's an escape from your
loneliness. and you're probably being very
well-entertained. no thanks. i have no interest in
devotion. good-night everybody. i won't share my
misery with yours, although yours is probably
better concealed.



Deseo. by La Confidante del mundo on 11/09/98 16:43

I wish to know your troubles.
I want to feel your fears.
Life's been overly kind to me;
Please, share your tears.


"Perturbation is necessary" by Si como no. on 11/27/98 17:35

When we're with a friend, we don't think about
him. It is only in his absence that thought
begins to recreate scenes and experiences that
are dead. This revival of the past we call love.
So, for most of us, love is death. We live with
the past, with the dead, therefore we ourselves
are dead, though we call it love. We do not love
and let it alone, but crave to be loved. We give
in order to receive, but this is only the
generosity of the mind and not of the heart.



by bob on 12/04/98 00:30

You who philosophize disgrace
And criticize all fears,
Take the rag away from your face
For now ain't the time for your tears.



A Word About Us... by Some random She. on 12/30/98 02:01

Women are marriage-minded from about age two on up.
It takes many different forms, and prevails in differing
amounts from woman to woman, but it's there, in the back
of our minds, every time we hear about an engagement,
see a wedding (in person or on screen or stage), meet someone
we'd like to date. Some of us have been thinking about
a generic Him, the one we're going to end up with, since
childhood. I get through the disappointments and cope with
my lack of patience by imagining that I am slowly meeting
Him, personality trait by personality trait, and that the
whole will be even greater than the sum of those fragments.
I'm always wondering if I've actually met the specific
Him, or if I only know the one I've thought up over the past
several years. I really wonder if He ever thinks about me,
in either a vague way, or specifically about *me*.
If You're there, hello. Can't wait to meet You!



My heart is out for you,cherie. by Mr. Jackson Ruffus Miller III on 12/31/98 03:34

This is in response to the ad from the pretty lady.

Although I am a bit myopic, I am the utopic Him
you need. You will need not stay a random hag, for I will make you my wife. I am the real life Ken you've been playing with since time beyond memory. Let me tell you a word about us: we exploit our reproductive abilities--ever since we were 12 or so, the lucky precocious ones way before then. Although we yawn at weddings, we have pleasantly arousing thoughts of the disrobing honeymooners. However, a time does come when we need to start assisting in the evolution of mankind. I am ready to fertilize my seeds in you. I am real. You are not dreaming!
We will meet! *wink*


Untitled by Anonymous on 12/31/98 12:41

The sigh of the scanty in the self-enclosing
mediocrity of self-improvement. The futile
reverberations of the true, not a
longwinded syllogism out of conceit.
Result: A retarded reaction from a limited
logic. A lamentable ignorance of the
blocked inquiries, the inaction, in the
yielding acceptance of the so-called
unavoidable, the final , the dead.
Stagnation in intellectual verbalizations,
without much significance,
no change there, especially not while
tethered to something else--the mental tug-
of-war. The complete disintegration between challenge and response--- the self-protecting reactions against the unpleasant facts,
only to be justified or condemned but never looked upon. Never coming face-to-face with
the real. Disappointment then. The
illusory is much more pleasant, much more
comforting. And thankfully, while still young
and alive, the flame of discontent hasn't
been smothered in the feast of all this vapid rigmarole.



Untitled by Anonymous on 01/29/99 23:40

Why are you afraid of death? Is it perhaps because
you do not know how to live? If you had only one hour
left to live, what would you do? Would you not
arrange what is necessary outwardly.Would you not call your
family and friends together and ask their
forgiveness for the harm that you might have done
to them, and forgive them for whatever harm they
might have done to you? Would you not die completely
to the things of the mind, to the desires and to
the world? And if it can be done for an hour, then
it can also be done for the days and years that may remain.-


Untitled by mr.class on 02/01/99 02:08

i often pride myself on my ability to deal with
any and all situations. yet now, the latest did
too much damage. the damn that is my well being
has a huge crack, it is quickly deteriorating and there appears to be a flood on the horizon. not
good.
and through all of this i still see the glass as
1/4 full. optimistic, but i don't enjoy the fact that while i have a less than adequate amount to drink she pours a pitcher into the sink right before my eyes. but life isn't fair.


Untitled by Anonymous on 02/04/99 22:26

What is important is the drinking of the waters
and not how full the glass is. The glass is a
limited container which cannot be filled. It
must be broken to drink the water.-



mumbling by Anonymous on 02/26/99 17:29

When it's cold outside I like to whine.

Your life is almost over, you're, what, a quarter done with it!, better get going soon.


Untitled by Anonymous on 03/02/99 21:52

Yes. It's cold. I'm cold, but the furnace nearby
gives me hope. Hope. Alas, hope. A life lived in
fractions never adding up to a whole. Do you like
my strut? That's all it is. Just a strut. Yours
probably is too. And I look
for other things and I find other things. I go with
those for a while and then again search for more and
yet again finding more. but they're all the same,
they're just substitutes substituting for the same
inadequacy-the admirable preacher in one corner and
across the room the despicable drug addict, both
within the same cell. And looking through the bars
I imagine how things could be. I pace around the
room finally sitting on my cot to have fun with my
good friend.


Untitled by Anonymous on 06/03/99 17:58

Don't change, Holden. Stay alive!