i have turned my bed into my desk. i have my calendars (wall and day) strewn across my patchwork blankets and my computer cord thrown atop that; my holocaust syllabus is in a pile with my other english syllabi patiently waiting to be put into my binder. i have newly opened packages of sharpie highlighters on top of said calendars and while i stretch my tired limbs i can barely process that today may be my last first day of school. it is, at the very least, my last day first day of undergrad. i sent away my grad application today but i am unfazed. the whole thing is barely a blip on my shoddy radar screen. i have piles of books next to me that i know i should read. 'nausicca', or chapter 13, in joyce's 'ulysses' is apparently about masturbating; i have no idea what everything is illuminated could be about, but i have my ideas. i should be concerned with those but i am not. my mind is foggy and i feel fussy. so i listen to these songs on repeat. am i getting in character? not really. it's not grade eleven. i should listen to snow patrol and the killers' 'everything will be alright' to get back into that mindset. three performances. which one will you see?
i spook. you. you were there. i started it. why can't you just finish it? why can there not be the right distractions in life and only the ones that are bad for you? why are we always tempted by the things we know are wrong? is it because they are bad? am i weak? we can all be weak. am i reckless? or am i just curious? i am terrified but not about the harm; rather i am terrified about what i might do out of how i feel. this is all so maddening. i wish it were new year's eve again and the pub were filled with people and everyone stayed in one place, getting pitcher after pitcher of beer. we would go nowhere and every time we rang in the new year, the clock would go back to 8pm and we'd start all over. we'd start all over until this thing got figured out.
too much mad men. i want to look like this. how could i even pull off such a shade of pink?
