2.25.01 - 8:28:14

so. i've been sleeping a lot. not because i'm tired. in fact, i'm almost never tired. but see, you get to this point where you're just sick of being awake. sometimes this happens to me in the middle of the afternoon. sometimes later. sometimes i just go to bed for good instead of taking a nap and sleep for 12 or 13 hours. the strange thing, though, is that i wake up exactly 7 hours after i go to bed. no matter what time. the other morning i woke up at 4:30 in the morning and laid in bed staring at the ceiling until i got sick of being awake again and went back to sleep. it's not too difficult to get that feeling back.

it's around 8:30 and it's 73 degrees outside. i'm glad it's warm again. i was ready for it to be warm. now if i hear about a cold front coming through any time soon, i'm going to be terribly upset.

things are moving so quickly. it's weird. i block things out because i don't want to think about them. the past. the future. i start living in this window that's collapsing on itself, growing smaller and smaller, becoming entirely NOW. but the strange thing is, it's not now. it's happening to me and then it's happened and it's like i blinked and missed it. i don't know. i go to honduras in a week. how did that happen? it's already spring break. you sit in one place and you feel like those hands won't ever move and then all of a sudden you're somewhere else entirely.

i'm guessing my first book will have to be about time and remembering and forgetting as i seem to be completely obsessed with these topics.

sometimes when i'm not thinking about anything, i'm thinking about words. the way they fit together. little funny phrases with lots of alliteration. a sleek silver slew of furtive phantom fish.

now it's 1:00 and i never uploaded earlier so i guess i'll just continue with this entry.

did i tell you about how our angel fish died? i came home and she was rather stationary and floating towards the bottom of the pool. (note: the myth that dead fish float to the top has been disproved about five times in this apt this year.) so i go and look at her because she does spend a lot of time just floating in one place. i stare at her. she stares back at me. you know, when you tap the glass it's like, this huge wave of sound and stuff and really not very nice for the fishes, so i try to keep from tapping the glass. i stare some more. she stares some more. i feed them. midnight and peaches swim to the surface and chow down. verganza doesn't really express much interest. i'm starting to think verganza might not be with us anymore. i wave my hand in front of her. directly in front of her. my hand is big and dark and scary. she starts floating onto her side. i tap the glass (softly!). yeah. verganza's dead. it was such an agonizing ten minutes. if you haven't stood in front of your fish tank for ten minutes trying to figure out if your pretty little angel fish is dead or not, you can't really understand where i'm coming from.

william orbit does a great mix of barber's adagio for strings. one of my favorite classical pieces ever. it's like, the platoon theme for those of you who may not be familiar with classical music. at least i think it is. it shows up enough to be the theme anyway. platoon was on the other day. i wouldn't just know this random fact about that movie.

the matrix is on hbo tonight. it's kinda cool when good movies are on. even if you have seen them thirteen hundred and seventy nine times. no, like, i've seen the matrix so many times. and it always surprises me that keanu reeves is in it every time i see it. and that i like it nonetheless. i mean, any movie that keanu reeves can't ruin has got to be damn good. he got to be a pretty big star for having absolutely zero acting ability. i think he really proves that there's hope for everyone. you just need the right circumstances and probably the right agent.

i'm about 700 pages through infinite jest. i sorta quit reading the footnotes after a while. there are a lot of footnotes. very extensive ones. and while i realize that i'm probably missing much of the genius of the work, it remains engaging sans footnotes. i hate footnotes. especially these kind because they're in the back of the book and not at the bottom of the page. well, i hate footnotes at the bottoms of pages, too, but like, i HAVE to read those. i can't ignore them. i am physically incapable of doing so. but yeah. footnotes in backs of books just don't get read when i'm doing the reading.

it's funny how every night is the same as the other and the next and yet, sometimes, the air looks or smells a certain way, just for a moment, and all of a sudden there's something irrational and impulsive inside of me that makes me want to run outside and wish on a star. or some crap like that.

sometimes i think i will always understand everyone else more clearly than i can ever really understand myself.

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