ramblin man

well, i was going to listen to ramblin man while i wrote this because some assfuck told me i rambled when i posted something on facebook earlier. i deleted it because he's probably right.

in my head it all makes sense, though.

like, i decided to listen to nevermind (the album) by nirvana. now i'm thinking of irc and the 90s, but before that i was thinking about how i just had an awesome but disappointing conversation with dan bern on facebook, one of my old favorite musicians who wrote a song about god's responses when asked if he could be spent in time to alter past events like saving kurt cobain from suicide.

my old roommate yva in new york told me kurt would've probably made out with me at a party. i don't think she knew him very well, but she was in a band with his supposed best friend, krist novoselic, who she hates apparently because she thinks he's a racist, which coincidentally is the same reason she's a fucking cunt to me. oh, and she thinks i'm misogynistic because i referred to her as a cunt. fyi, if you piss me off enough, i'm probably going to refer to you as whatever the worst thing i think thank of is to call you, and if you have a vagina (or are a feminine male), would be 'cunt'. not if you're trans though. when alexis arquette pissed me off, i just called her 'robert.' anyway, this is becoming celebrity gossip. i can't remember if i've ever mentioned any of this on my blog. i always forgot to write about shit because i write so rarely.

celebrity gossip. i guess people like that. i don't really have much first-hand juice, since the only other famous people i've ever hung out with were clementine ford (cybil shepherd's daughter), jonathan caouette (writer/director of tarnation)... god both of them suck. well jonathan is okay, i guess, even though he conveniently never mentioned that he had a significant other until i got to his birthday party. and clementine called me a drama queen, which is funny because at least my drama has never been in a tabloid. anyway.

oh, i met mary waranov and some other warhol superstars at my friend robert's party (holly woodlawn's archivist). i mentioned about getting some coke, and they all said they hadn't done any since the 70s. nice ladies, though.

and i got kicked out of rage in west hollywood with colleen and joss stone for smoking weed. i don't know why colleen isn't trying to communicate with me. i mean she hung out with me for a few days when josh died. her aunt was the emt that took me to greenleaf when i was 1013d a few weeks ago after my dad beat the fuck out of me blah blah blah i don't feel like going into it.

fuck my finger hurts.

i quit.

insanity

I'm listening to Alexander Scriabin's Symphony No. 2 in C-minor. They say he was a messianic megalomaniac towards the end due to Syphilis. I can relate.

It's not that great, but I don't know what to listen to. 

I just turned it off. Fuck it.

Anyway, this laptop keyboard is designed terrible, and I have a broken pinky finger, so typing isn't that much of a thrill right now. But there are some things I need to get off my chest.

Where to begin?

Well, since I last wrote, I checked myself into Turning Point rehab. That was an adventure. I was there for a few days, and I met this gorgeous poet named Joe Gant. He was a linux geek and a Buddhist. We conversed non-stop for a few days. Our arms touched for half an hour while in a group meeting. I fell in love, quickly. But he was straight--of course. One night I was upset over some family issues and venting, and I caught him writing in his journal about me--calling me a drama queen. I got upset and told the nurse I was feeling suicidal so they would give me an Ativan. They ended up 1013ing me again (Georgia's involuntary commitment law) and putting in me in a psych ward. I tried to leave when I found out, but they ended up tackling me to the crowd and choking me out, scratching the fuck out of my arm. By-standers said I head butted one of the techs pretty good, though.

The psych ward was okay. It was co-ed, which was nice. I met a very intelligent woman from Tampa named Bethany. She's curious about existence, too. She thinks her name in Hebrew means house of ill-repute, which I find funny.

Anyway, there are a lot of details that I should mention about what else happened there, but I don't feel like typing very much right now. I did meet this other guy who I thought was my soul mate because we have the same middle name, are obsessed with Tori Amos, and have the same possible mental disorders (schizoaffective and borderline personality). But I think I was mistaken.

My parents let me move back in with them. Everything was okay for a week or two, but then my dad ended up beating the shit out of me when I told him I'd kill him if he touched me, basically, and they 1013d me back to Greenleaf again. 

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I was interrupted to go eat mussels for dinner. They were good. Kate's mom made them. I came up to Allentown, PA about a week ago to stay with them for a bit. I have no idea where I'm going to go after this or what I'm going to do, though.

Anyway, there's so much more I should write about, but it's too uncomfortable to type for very long right now. Maybe later.