March 6 2005

I have imbibed too much and I have no sense of time. The world is tipsy, it isn’t quite stable. It has lost its equilibrium. I must gain control again and see where the time has gone, corral it back and gain the ability to type again. Then I can function on automatic, type beautiful words and steer quite far from the mark. I don’t want you to see me like this, seconds, minutes and hours hold not absolute mark. I am drifting. I think I should just go to sleep and see where my mind will settle. I may have a psychedelic dream and then my life will make sense. The police came and said not a word, they were strong, they just let the party disappear into the light. I told someone I wanted to sleep in the fridge, it was beautiful. I told them it was a very bright place. I don’t mind being drunk it’s a warm feeling where you can talk to anyone though you don’t quite have your balance. People just float in and out and songs keep playing, without ever knowing where they start and end, I won’t know went tomorrow begins or ends. I really want to capture the essence of drunkenness. Perhaps this won’t make sense, but I think I am doing pretty world to be a in a rotating planet in my own solar system. My mother would be confused to hear me talking about pretty boys who aren’t sure of themselves. She’d ask me question that I wouldn’t know how to answer because I am still drunk. But I am glad I home and grounded and flat and funny and now I will be able to sleep and heal. But first I need to drink plenty of water so that the world tomorrow does not beat me up and ruin my paintings. I just want to let things float a little while longer so I can be under the impression that I am wanted. People keep telling me that I am cute and this song never ends. But I haven’t found that genuine down to earth boy yet. I’ve had great conversations with people while I was full of alcohol… it was quite nice. I am worried friends will end up in strange corners. I have forgotten where I came from. I never want to change but I am too unsure of myself. Alcohol is a very nice feeling. Just not too much… or else I may be very very sick. My throat feels dry. I believe I have captured you, essence of drunkenness, my feet known not where they are going the word spins and I am still conscious. I just want it to settle, go to sleep, let the silence settle in and then let the world turn black and then I will find my lover. It will be nice there all warm and fuzzy. I want it to be so pleasant that I forget myself and stop questioning every move. He isn’t comfortable with himself, that is why he never came back for his watch. This is very trippy, I am not sure if this is fit for print, it should be banished and burned. I’d like to make poetry between sheets but people don’t speak. When I am drunk I am very approachable. Let me say hello and bid you farewell you are gay happy and a lover of men. Farewell.