03/04/2003 - 1:26 p.m. | what the fuck am i talking about?

I'm trying to get a handle on whatever this state I am in has been lately... I mean, as far as day-to-day things go, I'm fine (then again, unless the situation is really bad, I can usually act about normal), but when my wanders, I feel so strange. Like a fog is following me... actually, scratch that - quite the opposite: I feel rather exposed... Things seem so clear or fresh or something like that. I keep feeling... something - I'm not sure if I want to laugh or cry... perhaps it has something to do with the weather. I wish I could describe it better to you... just this... cool feeling. Like after you've had a mint, but all over. Sorry, I'm not making sense. I wish I knew what was up.

Meanwhile, at work today, the security guard listened to Rush Limbaugh. Oh my God, so awful! A poem: "I AM LOUD AND REPUBLICAN / MY NAME IS RUSH / THAT WAS ALSO THE DOG IN MEGA MAN" Additionally, some guy broke a lightbulb in the locker room so I had to sweep it up amongst naked men. It was startling; how can they be that comfortable with their icky fat old nude bodies? I'm hardly comfortable with my icky young skinny clothed one.

Man, halfway through crossing Lincoln, I had a slow motion vision of me getting plowed by a truck. Not that I particularly want that to happen, but it's not a big confidence booster. You are fucked up, Nate. The hope of some magic pill or maybe even just someone to talk to is helpful, though.

I need some sense of purpose. I would have liked to work the late, late shift at the gas station. Alone. There is something noble in that to me. "I am the screen, the blinding light / I am the screen, I work at night"

AHHHH! GET NORMAL YOU CRAZY BASTARD!!! AIEEE!

I'm kind of up for reading some T.S. Eliot or something... I mean, if I could grasp it with nominal speed.

NOOOO! THAT'S EVEN WORSE! THINK ABOUT HOW IF HIS NAME WAS S.T. ELIOT, HIS NAME BACKWARDS WOULD BE "TOILETS!!!"

hehe

THAT'S BETTER