Chapter 2: Under an ancient sea

Hm. Now where do I begin? More importantly, where am I trying to end? What have I even got to say? Try to avoid reading this entry. You'd be better off. You've been warned.

I hate spring. I hate aw honeys, I hate pity, I hate lacking opportunity, I hate a lotta things. Or at least I have some strong feelings. I don't hate spring. But spring brings with it a great deal of rejuvenation, of energy, of freshness. But this brings with it, you know, the usual sense of loneliness because, shit, it's been a long time since I've met a nice single girl let alone had a decent conversation with one. It's been a long winter, and I've come out of it tired and directionless, but optimistic because it's a brand new season.

The self-loathing part of me says, hey you're not trying hard enough. I don't listen to that side nearly as much as I did back in grade 10, and I've generally been better off for it.

So when one of the thousand or so girls I occasionally do talk with happens to ask, and I straightforwardly tell her the situation is the same as always, it invokes something along the lines of "Aw honey it's okay" or something. Well, not really, it'd be okay if I were getting laid, or had a plan to get laid, or had an opportunity to devise a plan. I'm a man without resources.

I appreciate the sympathy, I suppose, and to some degree I may be fishing for it, but hey when I get asked I gotta answer and be truthful, even if it's a bummer. I spend a great deal of my time being a bummer anyhow, don't think I am unaware of that. I just had this really weird but nice conversation last night with a girl who I'm pretty has a boyfriend or at least plenty of issues (same thing sometimes.) The conversation basically consisted of us complimented one anothers' looks (which I assure you is rare for me to hear,) followed by a lengthy discussion on the merits of breasts (as the young lady identifies herself as bisexual.)

But that whole thing, all those little hang ups aren't even what's got me down tonight. No, that's my usual trip but tonight it's something on top of that. I've got this "think I'll go eat worms" thing going on, feelings of abandonment or whatnot. I'm an unhappy stranger grooking in the streets of Mexico, my friends have died on me, my lovers disappeared, my whores banned. I hate to take it so hard, but I am really quite lonely these days. I haven't seen most of my Sheridan friends since internships began (though I've seen Amanda most weeks and Joe once or twice,) most of my amigos who've been at other Universities seem to have taken the first flight to anywhere after exams, or are otherwise indisposed. Christ, even the kids at White Oaks are out in England for the rest of the week. And me? I'm the fucking Gargoyle of our lady, dreaming in space gray mist dreams. I've never wanted to take flight more in my whole goddamn life.

A few months ago, I was thinking maybe I'd take a trip, blow some of my cash on something utterly frivolous that I'd end up regretting. A week or so in some foreign land, just to get the experience under my belt. Then I made the mistake of letting my brothers get wind of my plans and they killed my enthusiasm by making it about them. I don't think I'm going to do it, but good fucking God would I love to get outta here. It would be a brilliant escape from my life, my rut, and the world that's got me down - particularly, you know, society, technology and the media. I just want to hole up in some exotic location with a pen and paper and write my experience. Just live in a moment instead of feeling bound by all these goddamn wires. You know?

On the plus side, I was up until 2 or so last night writing. I did some very good work, and while I don't plan on making that the routine, it certainly was exhilarating. I need a bit more of that.

Being stuck in a comfortable place is still being stuck, mama.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott