dear Diary,

for the second time this week, i went over fifteen hours before remembering to eat something. a grand accomplishment for me, this is, as it was only perhaps a month ago that i collapsed in a department store and had to be force-fed orange juice and a snickers bar (interesting combination of tastes, by the way. i do not reccommend) because i'd not eaten in ten+ hours.

there's nothing like poverty to make you realize what's important and what is simply a luxury! i should start my own 'mind over matter' program.

love,
Zen.

p.s. i smelled gold today, the color? scent is like microwaved rice.

finally signed my major today. monday shall see me become a certified student of English (concentration, Creative Studies) as well.
if i thought of myself as poverty-soaked before, it will be nothing compared to next year.

not that i am bathing in champagne and dubloons now. i have literally $100 to my name until january. unemployment always triumphs.

despite my distress i feel surprisingly upbeat. or possibly just malnourished. i've never gone fifteen hours without food before. never even managed seven without collapsing. how empowering!

the presumable reason for my high-held head however is that, after promising to never publish a story, i've just spent an hour brainstorming yet another novel. specifically, one whose subject matter will have me studying thermodynamics and slower-than-light space travel until my brain starts bleeding.

in other news, i just realized - it's been seven months since i made my ultimatum to my former best friend. i guess you really are as forgotten as you let yourself be. i hope she's having a fulfilling life. i suppose the half-life of my ire has been used up.

i want to live in this moment forever, because when spring semester comes, i will have to reset everything i've built here. which isn't much, but i won't be able to shift blame from my delicately-balanced delusions of grandeur/pride if i don't become a valued (or at least, recognizable) member of a few student organizations. or someone's staff.

fic! fated_addiction (another name on flikr) is ever inspiring, and i couldn't help myself.
i should probably work on NaNoWriMo stuff, or my monologue due tomorrow, but. psh.

****

leave the day way up high in the sky. original; pretentiousverse; pg13; 227 words [written, edited in 44 minutes]
he doesn't care to remember hesitation (there are things he likes to imagine).

( he's 39 and moving past his childhood dreams and feeling the crisis of it; she's tentatively toeing over her careful lines into the life beyond playing dress up )

because i am going to keep saying it.
( and everything under the sun is in tune / but the sun is eclipsed by the moon )
get out of your holes, people!

i haven't been to class in a week.
(out of the past seventy-two, i have barely been outside for more than a few hours.)
i have continuously forgotten to eat more than once a day.
(i only remember to eat at all because the room starts tilting and glowing. i can't remember if my restricted diet is a positive or a negative.)
i have a script due tomorrow (memorization included) and i've barely glanced at the lines, much less marked my intended blocking.
i have an exam next week, and i've no idea what it's on.
i have not attended any student organization meetings in ages.
i have socialized with three people up here in the past month.
i have a soreness in what is possibly a lymph node, with added throat pains/difficulty swallowing.
i am fading.

all i can do is hold up in my room with the heat on and the window wafting a breeze by my cheek and read read read and watch tv and dance around in my room, ciggy in one hand, and mug of tea in the other.

i need to get it together.
i need to learn my pertinent academic shit and go out begging for employment and stop sleeping so much and mail in that damn transcript request.
and stop slipping into catatonia.

fuck.

it's been raining aaaall fricken day. i want to run around outside in golashes et al.
however; i do not have golashes.
also it is freezing.

so i have spent the day marathoning tv shows, dying with hilarity over lj/youtube wank, and generally geeking out like a Geeky Thing.
and eating oatmeal cream pies.

D:  gonna get pudge.

here i am, alone on a saturday party night and i can't figure out if it's due to awkwardness, pride, or spite.
neither can i puzzle out any benefits of my protest.


eulogy. original: drabblepoem; pg; 99 words [written in 27 minutes]
A eulogy may contain: a) condensed life history of the person who has died, b) details about family, friends, work/career, interests, and achievements

( i never knew when the anniversary celebrated me )

so my phone's fled the coup. more specifically, it's gone down under to rest in a field somewhere, after jumping from my back pocket. perhaps it mistook the leafy floor for the Elysian Fields? whatever.

as the nearest store with my phone company is bumfuck who knows where, i will be spending the next week detoxing from text messages. i am almost looking forward to it. quite the experiment, you see; i wonder how a few days of me being incommunicado will affect  a) my already dubious sanity, and  b) my friendships with people. now, i expect my contacts list - when i eventually do find a new phone - to be halved, but if i don't get a plethora of missed messages and the like, i might just have to throw myself under a train.