i have this self destructive streak about a mile wide. i dunno why. mebbe cause im bored of being bored, but mebbe im just crazy. i feel really crazy the last couple days, like i can touch my ideas and they are around me and the currents of life they eddy so fast and i dunno what to do. i got this damn headache yesterday and it wont go away i rub and sleep and eat but nothing. i love the paintings i do in dreams, they are so funny and so dramatic sometimes. i love drama and life so much its absurd, i wish i could fill up a bathtub with it sometime, all that sadness and and you sit there, you know, in a chair just looking around, cause there's nothing you can do. sometimes staring at a picture of a duck, or a marsh or something, everyone always has one of those pictures of a marsh or a duck, a little shack up in the woods, as if theyd really like to stop driving around in theyre taurus or theyre saturn or watever, and just get back to a simpler time where life was even more painful and boring and loving and shorter than today. i dunno, why not just do it. im sure it wouldnt be hard to just rip off your clothes, go screaming of west like a comet into the boundaries of space, mindless but free in that cold cold beyond. some of them reach other systems eventually, eventually come back to a place where the neon signs show you the highway strips where your every need can be satisfied with only the slightest variation of taste or decor. the youth know those places are home instinctively and park their cars in circles and flirt and fight and lie and cry and create the stories that will rule their lives forever in that town. theyre memories are tied to those lots, remember when that was a publix, remember the old lowes. driving by years later they will still remember all those nights spent there, and both they and theyre kids will look at those lots longingly, both wanting to be there for the same reason, but in different times.