The last few weeks have been exciting.
I took acid at the Color festival. It was such a rewarding thing. I didn't expect it to do much. I'm wowed.
I really need to get laid. I'm ravenous. I can't go out without having an anxiety about the whole thing. It's got me motivated to work out though. Eh. I ought not worry about that kind of thing but it gets to me. Maybe I should get a girlfriend. I'd dig a cute little hipster chick from Salt Lake. God, I hope she doesn't get married. I'll have to fucking kill her. I really don't want that. It might be easier that way though. I thought I'd meet someone at the show. Maybe I had. All in good time. Becoming a part of a social consciousness takes time. I'm glad to be moving forward.
The Torro exhibit at Urban Arts Gallery was moving. The combination of my post-Friday night self and a tastefully small amount of cannabis lent itself to a emotionally powerful experience. I cried. I wish I would have just starting balling in front of the clerk. I should have. I made a commitment to being sincere. I need to be more sincere. Previously, I had spent an hour or so reading philosophy at Barnes and Noble. Rumi and Alan Watts give me strength. Heidegger's a cool cat. I don't know where I currently stand. I think I'm moving up a stage. It was easy to just chalk everything up some postmodern ambiguity but it's more than that. I can feel it. The contemporary human soul is at the center of something very big and very powerful. I don't know what yet.
I read the Kama Sutra while I was there too. It was enlightening but I have to say is kind of a drag. I think I've felt that pain that women feel every day. That feeling of inadequacy. That fear like you're always going to be a let down to your future partner. That you'll never fulfill that Platonic beauty that lives in your soul. It's fucking dreadful. I'm way passed the suicide thing but that could easily do it. Maybe I'm not passed the suicide thing.
That previous night, A Marine expressed that I shouldn't wear my M65 parka in public because I'm not a soldier. To that guy, on the off chance that you read this: You're a fucking murderer and an invalid, castrated idiot. You haven't served anything of value or integrity. I'm sure your mom is real proud of you though. Big boy joined the Army after high school. Well done; fucking baby-killing asshole. Peace in the Middle East.
Evan was an interesting character. He had taste. I admire that. He had the most robust collection of anime torrents that I've personally come across. We watched, "For a Few Dollars More" late friday evening after vodka and a few bowls of Cannabis. It made me want to buy a pistol. Conflict is easy to manage in that universe. Maybe I should meet reality half-way and buy some mace or something. I don't want to kill anyone. I'd just like an equalizer. Eh, I can fight anyway. Being a young man is fucking violent. You're either putting yourself out there in an explicit way and risking conflict or raping yourself by not. The former is better as far as I have found.
It was nice seeing Lacie and Tyler. I think there meant for each other. Nate's grown up. It's remarkable.
I have a show on Thursday at The Pool Hall in Pleasant Grove. I'm excited. I have to figure out everything tomorrow.
“Real loneliness is not necessarily limited to when you are alone.”
― Charles Bukowski