[4.6.2001 * 10:37 pm] Apparently today is the day Kurt Cobain killed himself. (Or was that yesterday? They're all running together lately...) Seems like a pretty good day for it. It's raining, I feel melancholy, and I have a stomach ache. Isn't that reason enough to off yourself these days? I have only two Nirvana songs in my musical collection -- "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and "Come As You Are." I copied them onto my hard drive after borrowing the CD from Will's sister. I should have more Nirvana. with the lights out it's less dangerous Yeah. I feel mean. Maybe that's contagious. i find it hard If that wasn't the voice of my fucking generation, I don't know what is. And to think I almost put on U2 instead. Well, I guess "All I Want is You" can put you in a funk, too, but this is strangely making me feel better. I can't think of a single film that has used Nirvana in its soundtrack, which is probably a good thing. I have no idea where to find a copy of Slackers. It's not at my local Blockbuster, otherwise I might be watching it right now. well I swear that I don't have a gun Yes, I would, in fact, prefer to listen to grunge rock than Shaggy. Do you have a problem with that? I long ago adopted Peter's method of interspersing song lyrics with my own words. It works a hell of a lot better than quoting an entire song at someone. Not like they give a fuck either way, but it makes a difference to me. Always attribute your sources. I saw Finding Forrester last night. It was about a gifted boy from da hood and a cranky Scotsman who wrote one book in his lifetime. It also featured Salieri from Amadeus and the ubiquitous Matt Damon. His appearance got a few giggles from the audience. What was that? Typecasting, you say? Why is he always a lawyer, man? Anyway, it was a good movie, which surprised me. Kevin was commenting that if he had an office and told chicks he was working on a novel they'd do him in a second, whereas if I told guys the same thing it wouldn't work because "guys are different." Which I guess is true, but fuck that. If I'm working on a novel, I want 4 or 5 bitches fetching me my slippers and cooking me dinner and massaging and sexing me up. While I write, no less! What the hell? Applications for the job of Writer's Bitch are being accepted as of today, so get yours in before all the slots are filled. Apparently if I were truly virtuous I would actually *enjoy* doing what was virtuous, by force of habit I suppose. Doing the right thing would be pleasurable in and of itself. I can't see that ever working for me. I am a mean person, for some reason. I guess I've chosen that path, but it sort of seems like it snuck up on me. I used to just be bitter or sarcastic. Now I'm full-on bitchy. So when does it get old and just become caustic and "you're a truly horrible person"? You got me... I'd blame it on a life lacking in love and affection, but that's an easy way out, and besides I suppose that's my own fault as well. you say you'll give me eyes on a moon of blindness I don't like having to guess who a speaker is when reading dialogue. If you don't like Hemingway, why do you write dialogue like he does? I can't figure that one out. I don't even know where this anger comes from. the next time he wants to know what your problem is I hate the Dave Matthews Band. But I like this song, "Two Step." It would have been improved had his microphone been 'accidentally' shut off during the recording session, and his vocals replaced by someone more along the lines of Henry Rollins or Scott Weiland. There's an interesting juxtaposition: Henry, king of anti-drug-use and Scott, heroin abuser. Bringing to mind once again the question: can you separate the man from his music? Every musician I can think of has admitted to drug abuse; lots of them have died from their addictions. But hey, at least they weren't anti-Semites like Wagner. Or wife-beaters like Miles Davis. I don't know. I lost a lot of respect for those musicians when I learned about their personal lives. Then again, I haven't much respect for myself sometimes, knowing the things I've done and continue to do. Help me out here, Moby. Oh, wait, you're apparently a hypocrite on the vegan issue... All my idols are crumbling into the sea. see the storm is broken I demand to know why the Gwen Stefani version of "South Side" wasn't included on Play. I have a hunch... $$$ speak to me, baby, in the middle of the night I like the rustle of sheet music. I know the way you feel, like the rains outside What a dreary day it's been. I tried to cultivate a love of dreary grey days, but I just can't do it. It wears a person down. No wonder the English are so uptight. Living in such a godforsaken country, devoid of a clear blue sky... I'd go a little insane too. I tried to romanticize the notion, but the reality of that cold wet rain sloshing into my shoes kills my soul. The world exists; why do people want to debate that? Maybe it's all just a matrix designed to entrap us with a complex web of stimulations to our brains, but how the hell would you know any better? The sun is warm, the rain is cold, and that brick that stubbed your toe is still going to hurt you if you kick it tomorrow. Philosophical games annoy me. And yet I think there must be something more than this. Aristotle is to blame. He keeps telling me the rational soul is destined for more than the bovine life. Crazy bastard... what's with all these cows, then? And why so much green grass to chew on? I keep telling myself I'm going to write a story. And what am I doing? I'm writing a useless diary entry that no one is going to read or care about or understand or talk to me about. What IS the point?
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