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'mdrunk
2004-01-25 - 2:24 a.m.

'mdrunk

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I make more promises than I can keep. I am afraid of saying the wrong thing.

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Earlier, I was planning to go out to this party that I got drunk at, and I wanted to brush my teeth. I had to squeeze the very last bit of toothpaste out of the tube, I had to push very hard to get that last little bit out of the tube so I would have enough to put in my mouth. My hands are strong and the tube wasn't quite empty.

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Sometimes wanking's a bit like that. Sorry to be crass. But sometimes, I have to squeeze the muscles in my legs, I have to strain... I can't kid myself. There's a certain amount of desperation in it. The desperation ruins the fun.

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There were at least four different people at this party I was at, four different girls I could have gone home with and had sex with if I'd been committed enough. That must sound like boasting. But it's true; I could tell. When you're a bit drunk and you're talking to a girl the message can be real clear; it's either "give up" or "keep trying". And when you're drunk then "give up" doesn't hurt. You just give up and it's fine.

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Sometimes I think that everything else is about sex. Also, I feel like I should be "over it" because then I would be a better person. I used to write about sex in this diary a lot more, then I think I went through some kind of thing... I thought, "I've said all that now, now I should write about something else". I felt bad for writing about sex in the first place, then I felt bad for dwelling on it. There should be some other horizon of significance in life, something more meaningful than genital pleasure.

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I know, weird that I'm so polysyllabic when intoxicated. Being drunk, I think, is just about being weak. See, we try to be strong so much of the time, there's so much pressure... be strong, be good, try harder, be a good person, achieve more, go higher, you can make it, believe in yourself and you can achieve anything. It's crap. We need to be weak and we need to be strong and... it's no good trying to be all one thing. You are not all one thing.

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I wish I could explain better than I can. Poetry is in everything, there's a poetics of garbage, a poetics of hate, a poetics of screaming at your lover at three in the morning... I am breaking a promise by being here, and that's got it's own poetry, too. "Poetry" has too much crap around it, too much long haired laudanum drinking tree shaded pretentiousness for most people to see how important it is.

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Funny, I could be having sex right now, but I'm not and it's because, I think, even in this weakened state I knew that I would feel more sad about it than anything else if I did. I don't want to have a drunken one night stand with someone I sort of know and then spend weeks worrying about whether I did the right thing. I'd rather play computer games, I'd rather be a total fucking loser nerd than use someone as a receptacle for my semen.

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Sorry. Crass. I hate crassness. I love crassness. I don't know quite how I feel. I wish I could be honest without being drunk, but I can't. Something to do with weakness. When you feel good you feel scared that something will ruin it.

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Up to a certain point in my life I felt scared of being corrupted by other. Now I am scared of corrupting others. But corruption... that word is the... there's a false fantasy of innocence implied in it.

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Ok, Woody Allen joke:

"The meals here taste terrible! What do they put in the food to make it so bad?"

"I know! And such small portions, too!"

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See, to me sex, at its best, is not just about genital pleasure, it's really about a meeting of souls. Hahaha, yes, I know, what wankery, but seriously. You want to have sex with people who have interesting souls. I do, maybe you don't. But I want to have sex with mystery. Not clever-clever faux mystique wankery crap, I mean, when you look into someone's eyes and give them a good hard look and you can't see the end of it, like, there's never going to be an end to the staring, because there's no bottom, no finishing line, no final truth to their eyes, because they have depth... then you want to have sex with them, not because it will give you that answer but because it's a natural extension of the looking.

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Which makes it... it's quite extraordinary how many people I would want to have sex with. Ha.

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No, I can't explain it. I can't explain how I feel.

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I love that orange line over on the left, that says "my buddy list", that lets me know that someone I like to read has written something. That's a good feeling. Fun is fun.

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Fun is fun.

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You might not think that was worth saying again, but I do. There isn't as much fun as we'd like, most of the time, but on the other hand, there's actually some fun to be had pretty much any time you can be bothered to look for it.

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Ok, drunken ramblings must end some time, and these end now.

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"Wouldn't it be nice if we were older?

Then we wouldn't have to wait so long" - Brian Wilson


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