2003-08-19 / 5:58 p.m.

Ben said subordinate. Well who asked him? I asked him, but I didn't ask him anything that could be answered that way. Why does everyone always miss the goddamn point? I want to talk to Zooey. Or Edward and Jane or Jake or Yossarian. I figured if I'm laying around looking at the pillow case all night contemplating confusion that Ben would be the one to talk to. I was wrong. But I hardly ever babble at him and it's his turn, damn it; I have to spread this shit out over the vast network of my friends in order to spare some shred of sanity in those who have to listen to me. Brad and Shanna and Jess can only take so much before they lose it. And he's missing the point entirely.

I miss Bob. I want to go home again. Not really. I hate it there and it's hot and the water stinks and I can't stand the sand and there aren't any hills or French toast or wind-chimes or Bryan or Barry or fatcrazybitch neighbors, but... I miss Bob.

CFG is going to make my chap book. If I ever have more than 10 pieces I can stand to look at.

I have poems in my lips that won't go into my hands. It itches. I want them out and they run from me and I'm frustrated and even David isn't any help. With that, though he's been marvellous counseling me through the other.

When did I get so goddamn needy? And if I'm going to be needy then can I also lose the fierce obsession with autonomy and personal space so I won't be quite so fucking dizzy every day?

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