A shame, I was ever so fatalistic, so seemingly guarded. The problematic about words though is they are the result of an idle body opposing a fragmented mind, that and exaggeration. I have kept journals since I was in elementary. At a certain age the material changed significantly. The angle was elsewhere. The moment I became aware of my own self-consciousness, I stopped recording action and the chaos of happiness. The moment I felt the weight of others was the moment I stopped writing about pleasure. I avoided the superficiality that is so often evident in the everyday. The summer I experienced love was the season I stopped romanticizing memory, figuring a translation discredited sensation and was too removed from the real. After the spring, once I reread seven years of entries, I promised if I were to begin writing again I would be ambiguous. What I discovered in the journals was a story that had taken control of me, a perspective that determined me from afar. I had forgotten pleasure on the page because I was committed to living it in life. What has happened now? Two and a half years since then? A density - a result of discovering voice and resisting a conscious commitment to my obsessions, my query. Then there are the translations of my lived experience - a compulsion to find meaning, so I never regret - a result of feeling responsible for truth, for promising my self, a result of the ego and the inability to invent a life which isn't mine, a result of dissatisfaction with self, the desire to be in dialogue with those I can't speak naturally with, a result of anxiety, an anxiety that overwhelms my ability to think elsewhere, a self-consciousness that deters me from feeling, an image disorder that exhausts me and prevents me from living beyond my body, a result of being a journal-ist and perhaps not a novelist. What has happened now, always? An audience. The result? Ambiguity, to keep you unnamed, unrealized, to keep my memory of you a mystery, a truth I can deny.
What transpires is a reluctancy to be transparent. Most of what I live in body never makes it back to the journal. What I do on daily bases, how often I sleep, what I do once I wake, the routine, the surprise, the event. For example, last night: a curly haired dude on my couch, had on a Modest Mouse shirt under his overshirt, followed the band around one show to the next, a devotee I suppose you could say, or is it a fanatic?, thought he looked good, hadn't seen him in awhile, he called attention to my hair not being blonde, I thought about time, whether the speed gave it more or less value, Chad knocked on door, friendly high spirits, could cats play?, no I'm on the way out, we rode the elevator down, thanked curly haired guy for introducing me long ago to hypem.com, said he was responsible for my new music internship, talked about Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson, walked a street over to friend's, I wore black and gold, met someone new, drank rose, danced in my friend's shades in front of her mirror, said I wanted to be in a dance video, had a vodka cranberry, organic vodka (I think it was called Rain.. jazzy bottle indeed), took a cab to Terminal 5, said I never dance at concerts, too much in awe, sometimes unfortunately too aware of my body, want to get out of it, can't, they said they didn't believe me, I said wait and see, never listened to Black Keys, was there ready and willing, got a beer, hate beer, never drink beer, drinking beer, liking beer, text message: "You doing anything in the city tonite" "Black Keys baby" "Info?" "Sold out concert at Terminal 5" "I see..." "Do you? How! Are you here? :)" "In lespirit" "You are sensation" opening band, dancing, surprise surprise, sister disappears, messing around with people in audience, laugh about what it would be like to be "that person" who won't let someone pass through the crowd, sarcastically flirt with some guy, tell him he is going to have to tell his girlfriend to move ahead, fires back "she isn't my girlfriend," I tell him to dance, ten minutes later, he gets my attention "how are you? can you see?" "no, no, I think you might have to cut her at the ankles." "you got an ax?" I laugh, thinking if anyone ever heard this it would sound absolutely hostile and terrible, but it's fun and I like not having to make sense or be rational. Send a text message to someone I actually have the urge to see, receive message, confirms how much I hate messages, the void in distance, how I need face to face to feel in any way more so in the known, sis is back, mixed drink for me in hand, nice, girls are complaining, at first I let it go, then it just becomes foul, boys with Xs on their hands are bitching about smoke, telling girls they are with that they have seen plenty of those "weed cigarettes" before and those are okay, but cigs are just nasty, I'm dancing, we're dancing, we're going crazy, the three of us turn out to be the only dancing, I have a guy in front of me, he is a stand in for a prop, he doesn't move, but I'm grinding, my friend's gloved hands are grabbing air, hypnotic, I watch some dark hair pearly teeth guy talk with a girl, he looks like Alex Nahai, I'm loving this, their behavior is telling, I hope they end up back together, somewhere, kissing, they have to, I've never seen anyone speak with a smile, he's got it down, I make this known, we're so close to the stage, it's completely packed, somehow I am able to do 360 spins the entire night, eyes are staring, people assuming we are on ecstasy, if this is ecstasy I'm for it, some girl that cut in front of us bitching to my sister for having her body touch hers, I remind her she was the one that stepped in front of us, she doesn't stop bitching, I tell her I was being easy when I said she was killing the mood earlier, but now she is determined to destroy it, they stop bitching when I ask them how this can be the worse thing that has happened to them tonight, then remind them where we are and how good this is, then they start dancing and at one point even manage to laugh, I smell like garbage, I wonder whether people think my twin and I are in some sort of relation, guys on second level waving down, getting my friend's attention by pointing to her glove, shows over, they motion us to the left, the brother of the singer from The Black Keys wants us to go backstage, we go, friend acting starstruck, adorable, more beer, everything is lax, not what I think people expect, uncles in the corner, the brother's birthday, 15 minutes until 27, M&Ms, dark chocolate, can't get enough, never thought I liked M&Ms, loving them, mirrors jagged all over walls, 5 4 3 2 1, happy birthday, no one really cheers, feels weird, it comes with age I suppose, go downstairs, Geoff, Alli, me, she smokes a cig, we watch, take pictures, look at pictures, see picture of his puggle, staples all down his stomach, swallowed an ornament, I'm not really sure what happens, what the hours were filled with, but it was nice, friendly, and we were all sorta just there, together, they say he likes me, I don't catch on to any of that, slaps my ass on stairway up, tell him that was my back not my ass, ask him when he is coming to Miami, ask him whether he's ever been, says no way no way, not hip enough for that, not one for hours in the sun, I laugh, what has MTV done to the image and assumption of my hometown?, closing place down, going to some bar, my ass is still being talked about, "It's just I never have been an ass guy, but" "But how do you know if you've been with the same woman for 9 years?" I never know what to think, is someone always fleeing the relation?, excited about potential, possibility, sensation from achieving the unknown?, cab back, cab stop, bathroom break some ex's apt, driver upset, understandable, cab start, smoke, text message, invite to go again tomorrow night to Black Keys, tea, phone shut off, Chelsea Lately, pizza, cat knocks 19$ vegan green-tea pizza on floor, lying on ground, 3:50am, wake up on ground to buzzer buzzing non-stop, think it's the neighbor, sister isn't budging on couch, close eyes, 4am still buzzing, "Shit, Alli, it's the delivery" "Okay okay" "No get up", thirty seconds later, in one gulp I take down a mint-chocolate chip shake, wake in a mess of make up, paralyzed body, spread chocolate frosting on toast, happy that I danced after I thought I wouldn't but knew that was the only thing I want, the only thing I need.
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