Sunday, 07/27/03 - 2:42 pm.
Today is Victor's (my colleague-to-be) 18th birthday. And my parents' 35th anniversary, too. Yay for them, I say.
I honestly don't see myself reaching the point of saying: "oh, yes, I've been happily married for 35 years to the same person". I don't like the idea of getting married several times either, of course, it's just something too broad, too far for me.
I just caught The Beatles on TV. I hate myself for not taping the first seconds, and I hate myself for not telling my brother Alan to bring me something beatle from his trip. "Oh, you should've told me...where I was, there was a lot of things about The Beatles...". It wasn't until I showed him my growing collection of Beatles stuff ("look, I got the Anthology 1, until I manage to find the Anthology DVDs") that he realized this is serious.
"So what about them?", he asked, and pointed to my CD rack dedicated to Aerosmith "they're gone, now?".
I told him I'm on some kind of sabbatical. But I still think of them, of course. Occasionally listen to their music, and wish I could meet them and shit, although my nephew Renan brought me to reality when he said, with no bad intentions, "I don't think you ever will". I'm keeping an eye on their forthcoming BLUES (they'd better!) album "Honkin' On Bobo" (what the fuck is up with the clown name?).
I may be taking guitar lessons anytime soon. I know I said this months ago but this time...err, "it's gonna be different"? Yes, of course. But don't take my word on it.
I wanted to cry last night, and I'm starting to believe something is wrong with the chemicals in my brain. I have nothing to be sad about (if you refer to my inmediate, personal enviroment, not to what's going on around the globe), and yet I am. I feel friendless, too. Completely friendless, because I have the paranoia of all of my friends being in touch with each other, except for me.
And there comes the voice of my loner self, and says that it's ok, because I am a loner indeed. And I agree with that, I like being alone most of the time. And I know I could pick up the phone and ring them up, but I can't help feeling left out.
Ok, it's not exactly being left out. Because I do talk to them often....often enough. I don't talk about "important" things with them, that's the point. "Hi, how are you?, whatcha done lately?" and so and so. I catch glimpses of their conflicts, but everything seems so blurry, and they seem so distant that I feel nothing but impotent and useless.
I was going to cut myself last night, but...I put that off. I had some creative urge to write (and draw) something, anything. Something GOOD. A book, maybe, hopefully something about Jesus, but I failed succesfully (or miserably, whichever you prefer)....as usual. I have a bag full of torn pages that once were ideas, waiting for the recycling elves to come and take it away (ok, so they're not really elves).
I don't like anything "creative" I do, because in the end, it's nothing but crap. And I wouldn't care if it's crap, as long as I believed in it. Which I don't.
My dad was on a radio show last night (taped a coupled days before), he was promoting his new book. It's a great book, about "almost-human" people. Short tales about robots, assassins, dead people...never "completely human" people, you know? This is his 5th book. He believes so much in what he does...but obviously he's a professional writer, majored and everything. Unlike me.
Simeon told me: "see, they tell you you have to know the rules so you can break them afterwards. People have to know the rules, and then they can break them. You don't know the rules, so your breaking is more spontaneous, and the result is the same: broken rules".
Yeah, ok. But it's still all crap.