Saturday, 06/26/04 - 10:58 pm.
Today's the one month anniversary of Ern's murder. The crime wasn't solved. And it doesn't quite surprise me. I see his face everyday on the billboard of the hallway. It's funny, not seeing him anymore, smoking outside the classroom. At the risk of sounding like a coldhearted bitch, I don't miss him, really (because we weren't exactly "friends"). It's just funny. It's just a sense of loss that tickles my ribcage at times.
- Victor: so I don't have a chance with Angie anymore, right?
- Me: ...I'm sorry...no.
I hate being so sincere at times like this, but I'd hate for Victor to keep his hopes up any longer. It's time to realize this is the end of them as a couple. He said "thanks for being so sincere". I'm not particularly proud of that. I just want him to face the truth, grieve, recover, and move on (ok, I wish he could skip the grieving part, but I, as a psychologist-to-be, am aware that some phases, however hard to stand, are necessary).
Ok, lighter, less miserable news. Joseph called me this afternoon, about half an hour before I left the house to go to a bookstore. Joseph knows a lot about books. But not the regular books everybody has read. He lives by many principles he's read about in strange books, like the one about how you must never suppose anything.
I don't know how we got to talk about lynching, but he described the most horrible tortures, like the one he saw in a video on the internet, about a man in India, who was punished for raping a girl. His arms were tied up to two trucks and...you finish the punishment as you wish. He told me other tortures, but I don't feel like sharing. Thanks, bye.
Then he started to talk about an attachment he got in his e-mail when he was 19, and still hasn't gotten over the scare. I found it funny, but really, there are horrible sites/attachments about normal things, and suddenly ghosts pop up in your screen and scare the hell out of you. He even explained something about the colors that are used in those attachments, something like they are set up in a way that the image remains in your brain for a long time (in the attachment appeared a girl with no eyes and no legs, holding a doll). I slept holding my sword for three nights straight. Oh, yeah, because, aside from knives, he likes swords, and owns one he won at poker. Consider it his security blanket.
Tangents, tangents. Bottom line is he told me of a book, The Madman. I hated my nickname, until I read that book. Haven't I said that his nickname is Madman? Oh, well. His nickname is Madman. It suits him well, you know?
Long story short: I went to the bookstore and then to the supermarket, and here's what I bought:
- Khalil Gibran's The Madman.
- John Lennon's A spaniard in the works (hysterical "beyond compare").
- A spider stuffed toy (waiting to be named).
- Spiderman cereal (!!!).
- An ending for this entry (ok, not really...I just don't know how to end the entry, bye).
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