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Allison says they're doing Godot at Susquehanna, which I'd like to see. But it's a matter of getting a ride there. So I talked to Aaron and Zane, but that was worthless. Talking to people is futile most of the time. But I don't know who else would want to. Oh, well.

In the morning when we were working, everyone was really hostile to me. I guess I didn't tell Aaron to stop the truck or something, and then everyone was grouchy at me and acted like they were doing me some great favor by "letting" me help them. After that I was pretty annoyed. I guess we're done for the rest of the year, and I'm glad.

Had a lot of fun with Keil, and he took pictures of me in underwear and socks. For a while we helped Aaron with his English paper, which was terrible (the paper). He really had no idea of how to write. Neither do the people in my class, though. No one reads the books and so they can't possibly write well. It was fun, and then pictures and then Zane came and he and Aaron left. And then it was just Keil and me for a while, which was best. And then Zane and Aaron came back and we went to Denny's, and it was fun like it used to be. (Not fun for too long, of course.)

Stayed after school until 4.30 to talk to Mrs. Peters about some of my writing. She seemed really to think it was decent. Then I didn't do much of anything. I lied in bed and tried to read, and by 5.30 it was dark and I kept falling asleep.

Went to see Romeo and Juliet during school. The woman who played the nurse is always really bad, such an over actor. Mercutio was good and Lord Capulet; Romeo and Juliet were mediocre and died badly. Paris was the only one who died well. I guess Tybalt was good, lots of blood. Overall it was really great, and of course the writing is top notch. The ending is the best part. And Andy played the Prince, which was great.

We watched a "behind-the-scenes" documentary in class, and the Romeo actor was so phoney. He kept talking about his stage name. Like a minute of his interview, he was talking about it. He tried to introduce himself, "I'm Shannon MIcheal Wagner. That's my performing name, Shannon Micheal Wagner. But people call me Shannon Wagner in real life." He was such a pretentious fuck about it that my comments on his acting can't be taken seriously. One or two lines were really bad, but I guess he was fine.

Everyone's interpretation of the play is that it's about how stupid kids can be. But I don't think so at all. I guess there's cause to think so, but Romeo and Juliet are much more noble and sensible than all the adults. All the authority figures, save the prince, are insane. The Capulets are jerks to their daughter. Lady C. obviously isn't close to, and doesn't care to be close to, Juliet. Lord C. doesn't respect Juliet, etc. And he claims to do things for her own good, that classic line, but is venemous so far as to threaten to throw her onto the streets. Friar Lawrence, a character with good intentions, is in far over his head.

We can't say that the "moral of the story" is that you need to listen to your parents. Because these parents are rotten. They only have their own interests in mind, and also want to kill each other. And of course they've passed that on to the next generation, which is an example of the children "conform[ing] with [their] wishes." Which is a haunting thing to say.

Shakespeare's adults are jerks. Romeo and Juliet are a little too eager to kill themselves, but maybe that's just the craft. The best explanation is that the love is sincere. No one has ever said that Brutus was too young to be a character whose feelings could be taken seriously, or that Antony and Cleopatra were too foolish and young to be in love. But people make unfounded (maybe slightly - Rosaline - founded) remarks about Romeo and Juliet because of their age. This is the same as when my father says that I'm too young to know anything, and it's just a world of heartless, passionless adults who hate other people with no reason, hold ancient prejudices, etc, trying to turn the next generation into the bores that they are.

So Shakespeare, according to my romantic and youthful perception, writes about the real knowledge of the young being obliterated by the older generation's assumed knowledge. With age doesn't necessarily come wisdom; I know plenty of stupid adults. And I'm smarter than my parents. (I mean this in understanding of other people, how to be compassionate and good, rationality, etc.) And of course we can assume that Shakespeare himself was a youthful romantic, right?

There's also once more a silly 'war' going on, which the children realize the stupidity of. Hamlet says, you know, "wherein the numbers cannot try the cause." Everyone is fighting for nothing in particular, and the more youthful characters are they only ones sensible enough to protest it.

Philip and Adam are the kinds of people who think being unhappy is "cool". They complained about everything. And they didn't give the play half a chance before they hated it and thought it was a waste. They're a waste, I think. Of human life, you know? They spoil it's potential to be funny and happy and are just depressed all the time, put little grimaces on and sneers for everyone to see.

Tim is really shy now. Since his girlfriend, which was supposedly the pinnacle of his newfound extraversion, he talks to no one, not even her, and just nods at everything. Ashley i s so great, and Kayla is perfectly beautiful, and Christine, even. Christine is much less intelligent than she used to be; it's probably all the Wednesday night Bible studies. But she's nice and has such a face. Snyder I don't think I understand. Kara is rotten. The Paul/Danny/Darren crowd are probably some of the nicest among us, and there's no doubt about what their intentions are. A lot of the girls are the silent servile types who read ROmance novels and say, "Gee, I don't know" or "Whatever you like" to everything.

Over the weekend I just watched movies and wrote and took about 7 rolls of film, and on Sunday I was very excited when I woke up to not have school and to be able to read, etc. But then I remembered my English project, which is just about the most infantile thing I've been subjugated to since the third grade. So I had to spend the whole day doing that, wasting up good words on such banal work. The whole thing is designed, it seems, to make creativity impossible. Everything I came up with wasn't allowed, and the whole thing was more about making a little poster than writing something decent. My idea for it was to write a Prologue like Chaucer's with a few characters - modern characters - and making scathing remarks about their hypocrisies, and setting up a similar story contest and modern pilgrimage, and then just one or two short stories that characters tell. But instead it's about travel guides, etc. Designing a pilgrimage, having a map and pictures on some poster board.

It seems like, if hours of work are required for something, the end product should be worthwhile. You have to put some effort into gettin g a good grade, but never effort that is worthwhile except the grade itself. Which is worth nothing. She's nice and everything like that, but she's kind of petty. She complained that my papers were printed out on paper with marks on the back, and not to do it again.

Ashley Albertson, whom I'd be madly in love with if only her parents weren't the kind of religious goofballs who'd not allow it, was screaming about her English grades. They're all so good. I'm never sure how to know if I can really write a solid essay; Mrs. Richter grades them so liberally. Even on purpose. She says, "Well the test grades were bad, so I gave everyone a good grade on the papers."

The logic is unsound in that. It seems like the reverse should be taking place: the childish quizes shouldn't matter nearly so much as the essays. I don't think the point of the class is to pick up facts, but rather to learn to write well. Whihc only about four of us can do.

Went to visit Keil, and we were in a movie he had to make for class. Also we saw the Evil Dead movies at Lincoln Center, which aren't good at all. I can see the humor in making fun of horror movies, but I don't know why you'd do such a rotten, unfunny job of it.

Spent the night at Aaron's, and he wasn't there most of the evening. I had to because we were leaving for New York early in the morning. I went for a walk and it was cold and clean like Fall, and it was beautiful and I wished I had my camera, which wouldn't have mattered anyway. without a tripod.

My parents were having some sort of party, and when they and all of their friends went to bed, David and Neil and Billy and Bryan came and raided all of their left-over alcohol. Suddenly now they're all always saying Hey man how are you? in hallways to me. So I got them some beer and now we're close friends. Crazy.

The most wickedly ruthless and funny thing is that he calls me when he needs someone to help him work and he calls other people when he wants to have fun. I think I'm going to have to start bitterly saying, though, that he needs to phone Zane and Jenn from now on when he needs help.

Smoking is about the screwiest thing imaginable. If something that gives you cancer is worthwhile, like marijuana, that's one thing. But if something gives you cancer and heart disease and tastes like shit, and is really expensive, then you have to be a real doofus to bother. I mean, there are such more fun ways to destroy yourself. I smoked some cigars and they made my kneecaps feel really light and I felt kind of sick, and things you get addicted to creep me out.

I was kind of scared because when I went to Neil's house today none of the food had been eaten, so I'm worried they'll all starve to death and it'll be my fault. I'm not worried because I care about Neil and his dog, but just because it'd be really boring for me to have to listen to them all weepy-eyed and pissed and I would have to pretend like I was sad, too.

My good friend or amicus Tim is depressed at the universe. Chuck and Philip are sometimes really not very nice to him. Chuck was among the most supremely awesome bhodisatva friends I had up until around school began, and he's still cool. But he got less youthful and now more often just a dick. They say shit like, "I think Tim's gay," when he's not around. So I don't know, maybe I'll just stay at home abed to read my Chekov more often. Because most particularly Tim amicus est, etc., amo, etc. And I really care a lot more about him than any of the others. It'd be beauteous though if we could all just be friendly and compassionate to each other.

Aaron said the other day that my friendships are all contraditions because I hang out with Chuck and Phil and Adam and then go home to read and write and be nothing at all like them. I said though that I didn't know anyone our age who read as much as I do, or who even read. Of course he said that he reads, and I took the opportunity to remind him of why I don't hang out with him, which is that he is a retard most of the times that I see him.

Chuck & Phil came around nine. I read Cherry Orchard in the interim. They had Amanda with them. They were bringing Heather along. Amanda said a lot of really stupid and destitute things I want to write into a novella. Heather and Amanda are retards and I wish we wouldn't always have to bring annoying girls along with us, also because it's not as if I'm getting anything out of it anyway.

Endless lies. Heather told my mom she was spending the night at Erica's. Really she spent the night with us. We had to pick up Adam at 10.30 at Coastal. He wasn't there so we went to his house. His mom said he was supposed to be with us, where the hell was he, what's going on, etc., etc. So he'd lied to her, and then we had to get Andy to lie and say Adam was with him instead of wherever he was, which was someplace he's not supposed to go to. And we had to lie to Andy and hide Heather and not let him know she was there. And Andy had to lie and say he was with us when really he was with his girlfriend. And Chuck lied to me and said he had an 1/8. Really he just had tea he stole from my house, literal tea, and got me to smoke it, but of course it just tasted like tea. Green tea.

Some of the girls in trig are kind of bitchy because Henry and I got 100s and screwed up the curve. He never curves anything, anyway, I'm pretty sure. Only the two of us and Vasyl got As and everyone else basically failed, so I was pretty thrilled but tried very hard to hide it. But I was glad because I love it so much but usu. make horribly minute errors and then that fucks up everything.

Yesterday when we were taking it Mr Woolcock said the first page had to be done and if we needed to we could finish the second page today. But then a few people handed in their papers so he changed his mind with ten minutes left in the period, and everyone's mad at that. Today people who were making up their test handed it into him and he mocked the people who didn't finish and said things like, "Wow, I can't believe you guys could finish this in time; I'm amazed. I thought this was too hard for one class period"

Nick called after I got home and I worked for a while. The basement filled up with water so we had to get it out; I thought of using the pump on their little portable gardenhose thing, and that was pretty slow but mildly effective. Also I hoed a little and Aaron's cousin came; she's got awfully large tits but I'm not sure if she's very worthwhile or not. Then Nick and I ate somewhere and he's going to make a bowl for me. He told me some of his nutty stories. With the little strings of tobacco hanging out of his rolled cigarette, he looks like a madman.

If we listened to our intellect, we'd never have a love affair. We'd never have a friendship. We'd never go into business, because we'd be cynical. Well, that's nonsense. You've got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down.

It doesn't make sense. If you jump off a cliff, you die. There are no wings. So either Ray Bradbury is a complete doofus, or he's the genius I've always known him to be and therefore we can take his word for it, ipso facto, that we've got to be cold and indifferent and logical to everything.

For the past five days they haven't stopped verbally abusing me. They'll do anything for Heather, but then they just act like jerks to me. They're really irrational, too. No logic at all. Always saying, "Why don't you do normal things?" So I say most normal people suck. And then they say that's true. And so I say, "Why conform then?" And they say to have friends. And I say two things. One: I have friends. Two: Friends worth having don't make you be someone you aren't.

All my philosophies are just the kinds of mawkish haiku bullshit inspirational quotes teachers hang in their rooms. It's what people have told me for years; all my life. Except no one really believes it. Really what the teachers want is for you to stop thinking for yourself and to contribute to the gross national product. That's what my parents want.

School was more boring than usu. Had gifted today, which is ridiculous. I wrote "I am going to write a novel," on some paper and handed it in for what I'm going to do for my "project". We just sit around and do our homework; Mr. Novak is so incompetent.

Went to New York early in the morning. We went to the Brooklyn Museum of Art and then just drove around on the subway for hours. A guy sitting next to me gave me a copy of The Onion. Saw Bleeker Street and Soho and all the places where Bob Dylan used to smoke pot and caterwaul. And Battery Park.

Came to Aaron's at 7. He was really being an ass; didn't talk to me at all. Jenn came and I just sat in his livingroom for four hours. They were outside in the woods doing whatever they do together. Whatever it is must be about the only thing they do together, because it seems to me that her tits are a good deal larger than her brains.

Jenn's always saying retarded stuff to me like, "Why won't you love anyone? I think you're afraid to let people love you. Why don't you date people? You're just scared to love people." I do my Socratic childish "Why? Why? What for? Why?" to her. Aaron says it's rude.

I think she's really dumb and I don't know why exactly he's so in love with her, because non coitus interruptus habeunt inquit. He's always falling in love with girls, like Kendra, and telling me how engaging and funny they are. But of course they're neither engaging or funny. And how does he have his pretentious "Fred Nietzsche is a stupid fucker" conversations with them? You've got one person pretending to have read him and the other with no clue who he is. I mean he's just so much of a Cliff Notes intellectual most of the time, and they're never even that much.

He wrote a song for her that I heard the other day. The guitar was good but the lyrics were put together badly and it was pretty gross and maudlin and also he sings even kind of factiously. An epithalanium of "The Dilettante and His Bride."

Choke. Didn't like it nearly as much as everyone else. Too much like Fight Club. Every sentence is some too clever one-liner. and it gets tedious with him always thinking of what a funny genius he is. It was such a Vonnegut rip-off. More narrative than him, but with the same kinds of "So it goes" phrases always repeated. And also the thing with the nurse is too cliché. It's written in catch-phrases and punch lines. I guess I'm the only one who doesn't like it, so it's because I'm "negative about everything." Whatever the hell that means. "Discerning" is the word I would use.

I don't like her. She makes English less interesting than my seventh grade Mr. Mordan Geography class. And he's really a robot of a human being, lots of very bad jokes. She just takes the life out of everything. Something really adventerous and fun like Beowulf she destroys. And anyway I've already read Beowulf, so it's a pain in the ass to have an assignment of reading excerpts and then answering screwy questions about it.

On the one hand I don't want to be a dick to Chuck. But also I don't want my sister to be around all the time. So I don't know. It's bullshit and I should just not be an ass I guess. Life is frittered away by bullshit. But it adds a new level of complications when Heather comes, because then her friends have to come. All is bullshit.

Worked until 2 but it was raining so we left early. Ate at Aaron's and then he was being a dick and I went home. Always when I'm there Jenn calls and he says that he's doing something with her and I can either go with them or his mom can take me home. It's a really shitty deal.

Last night at the West Coast the most beauteous wonderous Botticelli goddess was working there. She nervously explained that first she had to make sure all the tapes I was returning weren't over-due. Then she asked what I was renting. And she smiled at me hugely when I was leaving and I think I might seriously need to marry her. I hope she can cook.

I've got Spanish II now and Latin II on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday and I've got to work outside of class. Latin's really clearcut and easy though and I always get done quickly, so it shouldn't be a problem. And I think Spanish should be okay. There are so many tests, like four a week. They aren't hard except you have to study for them a little. Two years of either Spanish or French is required, as if Latin wasn't a real language or something. But actually it should be kind of fun; I'd like to take both anyway. And, Matzko says, it'll "look good on [my] transcripts."

Mrs. Richter grades very leniently from what I've seen so far. I got a 90% on the paper and she wrote a long note saying, please I hope you can understand, etc. And Aaron I think last year got 110% as a marking period grade. So really that's bullshit and I'd prefer getting bad grades. Except I never get bad grades for good reasons on English papers. But oh well. If she were hard I'd be complaining too. This is the nature of my neurosis.

Didn't fall asleep until 5.30, so I got a single hour of sleep and then went to school. That didn't really bother me much until the bus ride home where I felt really screwy. I took a nap for about two hours when I got home and woke up being very disoriented. It felt like I'd been awake for a week.

School was horrible. I've got chem. twice in a row. I've got Spanish II instead of Latin II. For no good reason. I told my mother to call them though, and if an angry parent phones the school then things go better for you. Photography should be good. English was insanely boring already. She just did the normal first day stuff, but it was unbearable. Western Cultures will be easy. Trig will be moderately hard and I'll get a 89% like I do in every math course. And gym seems nightmarish, lots of stupid fuckers.

When we were wrestling - I and Aaron - yesterday at his house in his yard I remembered how he was my sincere and great amicus, my bhiku bhodisatva Hermann Hesse friend, Narcissus and Goldmund monk with the long fingers. Rolling in the grass I remembered and how really I loved him, the real and complete asshole that he is, and then he wanted me to go home.

I went over to Aaron's and David was there and Zane and Eric came. We went to some sort of concert at I don't remember where, and it was good. Everyone there was just standing and so it wasn't very interesting and then we left very early. The big drama of the night was that Eric and Aaron didn't go in but everyone else did and thought they were coming, too. So David and I stood in the crowd and every five minutes Zane was coming back to say he hadn't found them and then he was off again. They were waiting outside and then we went to Sheetz.

Went to Aaron's at three-thirty. We watched The Wall and just sat around and sort of were swimming, except we just walked around and then got out because it was kind of cold. And we rolled around in the grass for a while. Then he said he wanted me to leave because Jenn was coming over and so he asked his mom to give me a ride.

My parents refused to give me a ride to get movies. At eight o'clock my mom was complaining about what happened to her at work. I don't know why if you don't like people you let them bother you ten hours later. I would just quit and work at Dunkin Donuts. I mean, because free donuts, free coffees and the women that work there are always pretty nice to you. They look beat, but they seem nice. And late at night sometimes they give me extra donuts. So maybe then she could come home and not bitch at me and be more receptive to taking me to rent some films. She could even return them on her way to work.

Went to Aaron's at four and we were going to watch The Wall but Nick needed help at the land, so we did that. And then I was home by 6.30. Everyone was going to the land again later for a campfire sort of thing, boring people. I didn't feel like it. If it had just been the old boy scout bhikus around a fire telling stupid stories about The Wolfman it have been great. But it was the usual people who talk about the weather and that sort of stuff, so I was really feeling too happy to do it. It probably was pretty nice anyway, and I could have just ignored the bores that came, but I didn't really want to bother making conversation and that sort of thing. I didn't want even to tell stupid stories like when we were little.

I put some roast that was left-over in the fridge in with the noodles. So I'm really eating a lot of meat lately, more than usual. It's so primal that I like the act of it, the tearing with my teeth, more than anything else. It came out a lot less tough than when it went in, so I was proud.

Went over to Tim & Chuck's Saturday night. Bryan, Chuck's friend, was there. And Vasyl came later around 12 from Ukraine. He's probably the only person I know aside from Mimi and John who has read War and Peace. And today we went to church, which I'm sure was a weird experience for him -- all these people chanting in a foreign language and drinking little cups of fruit juice. It really made me reflect harder on how screwy religion is. And so I kept thinking it'd be funny if everyone got food poisoning from the little crackers. He's an atheist I guess, and so it must have made a strange first impression to come to America, wake up, and then see what we're really all about: ultra-right wing fruitloop religions. So I hope I can let him know there is a counter-culture of poeple who aren't homophobic.

George started really yelling about homosexuals, about some guy he knew at Bible college who drew naked pictures of other men. He was kind of nutty and Puritan, like really into it: talking heatedly and loudly. But really I'm sure that someplace in the Sistine Chapel there's a drawing of a naked guy. And also there's the statue of David. And Michelangelo was gay anyway.

I felt kind of lousy after church so I just went home. Chuck wanted to come over but I didn't want to be around anyone. But later in the week he's gonna come. Aaron wanted to do something tomorrow or Tuesday and also there's the thing with David. Chuck wants to have a huge game of manhunt in the woods. He's really a madman. That's what we did when I came over, we played manhunt and my shoes are so cheap that I fell five times at least whenever I ran through the stones. I accidently ran into a wire fence, everyone did. It felt so good to get bloody. It's the problem with women that they don't like getting bloody. (Ironic, isn't it?) But it might be the greatest reason for me not getting married.

Also I was thinking today that I need a girl who can really cook. Because my mum just throws frozen like tator tots in the oven, pre-cooked by some corporate executive who makes food to make money and doesn't give a damn what horrible disease I get from it. How can you trust people who say tator? It's too Appalachian to be healthy. So it makes me too paranoid to feel hungry most days.

I got bored with her microwaved dinners so I made some French toast. But the bacon or sausage was all locked into the freezer. She's nutty and says we'll eat it all if she doesn't lock it. And also she keeps all the fruit in the refrigerator so it's too hard. I mean, I just take the stuff I want out and put it on my dresser for a few days; it doesn't bother me. I just don't get it.

Went to Aaron and Keil's at 1. Worked at the theatre (1.30) for a while, put up the skrim and took out the set and took some junk to the land to be burnt. Then Aaron and I agreed that we both didn't want to do anything and that he'd call me on Monday. Eric and Mike and Keil and I went to Circuit City to return Keil's dvd player.

Lots of people came. Jenn and Zane. I didn't want to do anything with lots of people though, just with Aaron. Just like racing around the street and beating each other up. But everyone came and it wasn't at all what I felt like spending the evening doing, so I just went home.

George dropped me around ten. Then we stood in my driveway for about half an hour and he said he thought I looked like I didn't care about anything, that I didn't take care of myself, you know, and that I seemed so different and less happy than I did before. And that I should find Jesus. But he was really nice about it. I don't really care about my hair and beard and general appearance. And honestly I'm confused by anyone who does. But the God stuff made me feel pretty spiritual for the rest of the afternoon. And of course I've only talked to him about twice in my whole life, so he doesn't really know if I'm insane or not. But that's the general consensus. Well so I took a shower.

His mom took me home, and she asked me what I was reading for school and she said, "Oh, Conrad. You'll like him; he's insanely depressing." Which really comes off to me as a second opinion. So I guess the whole world things I'm going to slit my wrists or something. I don't really know even what they'd like me to do about it.

So I don't know if I'm depressed or what. I didn't think I was. But so many people think so, so I guess there might be something in it. But I'm usually not depressed, just insanely bored. And also really a lot has changed since last year. I mean the Felix and Oscar stuff; that bummed me a hell of a lot.

But I don't know; who gives a fuck. That's my new thought on everything that sucks. Just who cares. I'm neutral to anything that cannot make me laugh. That's how I ended my last post, "fuck it," I just realized. So really I have got two problems: I use the "f" word too often and also I don't care. But who says you should care?

Read most of the afternoon and then Chuck and Tim called and wanted me to come over and spend the night. So I watched them instant messaging people for about three hours and we watched Fight Club, which I don't think they liked, and played some Play Station games. It's so much better than being around the usual gang of idiots. Because there's no pretense. There's no bullshit. It's not so stupidly sentimental.

My parents were crazier than usual. They refused to give me a ride and then they drove right next to Keil's. Got a ride from Eric at five. Play at 7. There was some sort of major screw-up every night. Steve forgot his line and he and Aaron were onstage alone with nothing to do, and then when the scene was finished Zane didn't bring down the lights. I'm not sure how he could forget to do that twice with a script in his lap. No one ever really cares though.

There was a talk-back afterwards which I was there for about half of. And none of the questions were any good or even directed at me. I guess that of course they wouldn't be. But it's really the part of the play that crushes your pride when everybody is sucking Keil's cock and you just sit there and watch.

Gabe's mom saw my paintings and took a picture of them and said somthing like, "I didn't know you were ---" and then she couldn't think of what to say. So it must have been something like "not pathetically stupid and entirely untalented." Yes, " I didn't realize you weren't a retard, Allen."

Someone asked whether I liked film or theatre better. But I'm never in any movies substantially so I didn't know. All I said was that performing on stage was so much more fun except for you had to sit around with tedious people every day for a month solid and that it made me insanely and violently bored.

I got pies at Sheetz. A blueberry one for me. And I even got one for David and Aaron. But while I was in the bathroom, the bastards stole my pie. I really think I'm a decently thoughtful friend sometimes, And then everyone just steals my pies. I mean, because they didn't go with us. They didn't know we were leaving, so I bought them their own goddamn pie. I didn't have to do that but I was trying to be nice, and then they just ate mine before I offered anything to them. So I felt ripped off. No one would ever think I might be hungry and buy me some food, and more than that they just stole my dinner. So I felt glum after that and just walked around the streets.

Saturday night we were going to jump into the river, but then Aaron didn't want to be wet for Zane's party. So he promised we would after the play on Sunday. And we were really going to; he said he wouldn't mind. Be he also just kept falling out of the car whenever we'd stop someplace, really melodramatically, saying he was sick. So it would have been pretty mean of me to make him do it. And it really wouldn't be that much fun that way, with him falling everywhere. And also he invited other people to come along -- boring people. And I'm tired of always being in groups to do everything. It's so impersonal to have fun with fifty people at a time. So I just wanted to go home, which I did.

Also before the play I wanted to wrestle, and Aaron was being a prick and, I mean, really punched me. He was irritated and did it pretty hard. Right in the chest with his ring on, so it actually hurts a little when I breath in deeply. Why do people even wear rings? It's so phoney.

But he's always acting enlightened. The other day he said he was content with everything and that he wanted "nothing" out of life. Which is such a bullshit, prematurely enlightened thing to say. But then he got pissed and hit me with a little bit of malice, so he's not exactly the Lord Buddha quite yet.

So it was quite a day: getting my pie stolen, getting punched, sitting around at dinner, not doing anything worthwhile. And when I got home I sat outside and thought and really realized something. All summer long we haven't done a single thing I've suggested. We just hang out and do things Aaron thingk of, regardless of whether or not I enjoy them. Sometimes things just came up and we really can't go rafting or anything. But mostly it's just because my best friend is an asshole to me. So I'm going to start hanging out with other people I guess. Which isn't really what I want, but when your best friend doesn't respect your feelings at all, it's too much of a bummer to fuck with anymore. I mean, because we used to be like Sal and Dean and Felix and Oscar. And it makes me pretty goddamn sad. But now he's just too much of a Mara Kasputis sometimes, and he just walks all over me and I concede everything to him and it's no fun for me. I mean, because if he says yes and I say no, it's a yes. And if I say yes and he says no, it's a no. And it's too grossly unfair and unequal to be any good to me. I mean, because I'd love to buy him some pie, but he'd never think of getting me one. So fuck it.

Went at 3 to Keil's. Sat around. Watched the Noh version of "Prufrock." It was really good. The only way you could ever perform it.Went to the theatre and sat around some more until 7. Play. It went really well. Then went to the grocery store with Natalie and Aaron for stuff to eat at Zane's. Zane's sucked but I just sat outside the whole time so it was pleasant. Everyone watched Ernest Scared Stupid. The stars were really nice.

Aaron and I were talking about doing some Edward Albee one-acts sometime after everyone goes off to college. Really we could write something of our own, and I'm sure we're at least as talented as Keil is (and especially so communally). But neither of us has his ambition. So it'd be easier to just use something already written unless we can really motivate ourselves.

Keil's stuff is paced so similarly. Like the same patterns to all the monologues. "Let me put myself in your position. I'm a thirty year-old, handsome guy who lives in a beautiful apartment." "Picture this guy named Gus. Gus is an average guy who lives in an uptown apartment." (These from two different plays delivered by the same actress.)

Rehearsed from 12 to 6. But mostly we just sat around. Play at 7. It went well. Keil missed his que -- which was insanely annoying. It looks really crummy when someone does that. Like if I had watched that, I could never forgive the players. But everyone liked it and Theresa saw all my set paintings and wants me to paint her children. On the program it says "Set Paintings: Keil Troisi and Allen Strouse." So that's a rip-off. He did one of them. Miran is walking and she's very beautiful. But it would really suck to be commissioned for a thing like that and then screw it up. But I would really like to try it out.

Some of Natalie's friends came. And Sean, who was my neighbor until I was six. I talked to him for awhile and they came to Denny's with us. And he gave me his sister's screen name, so maybe we can be reunited after ten yers and get married. He said she's really into theatre, so that's interesting.

We went to Aaron and Keil's at 11 until about 12.30. Everyone went off to play drums and light torches outside Steve's house, but I couldn't see that as being entertaining in the least. They were all very hyped about it, so it seemed like one of those things you'd think would be fun and then wouldn't be at all. So I went home.

I said that I didn't want to beat drums outside Steve's house, and Aaron said, "Then go home." Which isn't a very compassionate thing to say to someone. So we just sat there listening to everyone talk about nothing for an hour and I kept suggesting things to do but he wouldn't. He delivers everything like he's Clark Gable. Like Rhett Butler. "'Frankly, I don't give a fuck' about what you want to do." He's a real bastard about it.

Eric picked me up at 10.30. Went to the theatre. Rehearsed until 10 or 11. We ate at the Chinese place but I got a hoagie at Sheetz. I was pretty bored all day. David was there and I had fun with him for awhile and I and he and Aaron bought some shit from Dollar General. Some balloons we're going to fill with water and throw at people from the roof of the theatre, some candy, a ball. He's gonna come over next week I guess and we're going to sleep in the abandoned house. Everyone calls it "the Crack House." I guess Heather made it up.

He's doing the lights or the sound, I'm not sure which. Zane is doing the other. They've got headphones to talk between their booths and David said Zane had been telling him much of a dick I was and then I always deny it. But I don't deny it at all. But why am I a dick? Because I don't believe in living for other people? Well I don't deny anything.

(4.32am) My parents are being jerks. They keep telling me I'm making too much noise, to go to bed, that "they" have to work. But I work all the time on this damn play, and even at 5 in the morning I'm painting things for the set, so I don't know what the hell they're complaining about, verbally italicizing their works like I never do anything. And, I mean, what the hell do they do all day? Answer other peoples' telephones?

(5.32pm) No rehearsal. There are auditions or something on the stage tonight. Painted more. Got yelled at. My mom always does things I'm supposed to do before I can get to them and then complains that I didn't do them. Have to rehearse tomorrow at 11

It's really nice to be alone today. Except it wasn't entirely alone, being bitched at from time to time. And also they made me eat dinner with them for no reason at all. I wanted to work in my room but they made me sit at the table and listen to them talk about stupid things. So I'm really starting to look forward to not having to live here anymore and not having to be around people who are boring.

Again at 8. We took down the set at the Mitrani and put it up on stage. That only took until 12 and then we got lunch and cleaned up the shop and lied around while Nick was at a meeting until 2. Bought some cds with the money my Aunt Sherry sent me for my birthday. Went to Aaron's. I didn't really want to go home because I'd have to come back down in three hours anyway, and so it'd be more driving for Keil. So I stayed and we didn't do anything. It was really boring. We watched Celebrity. It's the best movie ever, but I didn't want to sit. So then we spent the last twenty minutes while we were there with me asking why we always did things I hated. The best part of my stay at Aaron's was when he picked a splinter out of my hand.

Focused the lights at 6 and rehearsed until 11. Ate at Denny's. Their food is gross and over-priced though so I got a sandwich at Dunkin Donut's I was going to eat, except they made me eat it in the car. Capitalism is really a pain in the ass.

Took a piss in Keil's yard when we stopped there on my way home so I could get my cds and it was so cold I could see my breathe. So that's really a bummer. Heat is stressful and it was insanely hot for weeks and my hair kept poking my eyeballs and it was annoying. But it was perfect for rafting. And now it's freezing outside. So I don't know what I want.

At 8.30 Aaron and Nick and I moved everything offstage and swept and vacuumed and painted, etc., etc. until 2. Went to his house for about ten minutes but he made me leave. He offered to swim but I was tired and he was tired and it wouldn't have been fun. He said that he wanted to take a shower and do his summer work and told me to go home.

Rehearsed at 7. Got a ride from my parents to Keil and Aaron's at 5. They were going someplace. Watched part of Natural Born Killers. After rehearsal we played Egyptian Ratscrew, the latest craze in card gaming. Steve took me home around 12.

Got some lunch at Wendy's. Walked through Weis's and looked at their cakes. Aaron had had a dream about cake or something, and he wanted one but they were too expensive. I should make him one, but he never appreciates things like that that I try to do for him. I'd be really glad to make him one except for that.

Watched some Monty Pythons and went to the doctor's for about two hours. I waited and then he just came in, said, "Do you drink or use drugs? Do you faint or convulse?" and I said no and then he checked my breathing and left. Took some pictures.

At 7 I went to Aaron and Keil's and we stopped at the mall (Subway) where Aaron and I got hoagies. We were both in better moods today. Then we saw Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat at a church in Muncy because Brett was in it. It's so corny. But it was actually really good. They did it really wonderflly. Aaron saw Joseph and kept asking if it was Jesus; he was confused. I had to explain that it was Old Testament. The Joseph guy was great. In one number he was really flamboyant, and that was funny.

Went back to Aaron and Keil's and that was boring for a while, but then Aaron and I started to sing, Are there any queers in the theatre tonight? and it became more fun after that. I didn't want to see the movie but it started playing so I watched it. And I guess it was good.

Took some pictures. Rehearsed from 7 to 8.30, something like that. I don't think I even did anything. Played volleyball. It's more correct to say that everyone else played while I climbed a tree, I guess. I wanted to swim in the river but Aaron didn't. I guess I could have gone alone. Or I could have went swimming with someone else. But he's really the most fun of everyone. And it's no fun to swim alone. It's nice to swim alone, it's like bathing in the Ganges if you swim alone late at night, especially in rivers. But I wasn't in the mood for spirtual-fulfillment. I wanted to do something fun.

I was bored all evening long. Bought some cds. Went to Aaron and Keil's where it was pretty dull. Aaron said we'd do something fun there, though. So I went hoping we would. But we didn't. He played Dungeon Keeper and everyone played cards. But are card games fun? I can't see how. I wanted to run around. I'm not in the mood for just sitting and listening to Zane make smalltalk with Allison. It's so worthless.

Oh, and Zane's planning some sort of party for after the play, on the tenth, I guess. Which is the kind of thing I hate. Parties are crap. And why is Zane always around anyway? He's not in the godamn play. He's doing the lights, I guess. But we're not on stage yet, so there are no lights until next week when we put up the set. Zane just said, "Well, then you don't have to come," as if I'm Mao Tse-tung. Like I'd just killed a million peasants. So I've either got to listen to bullshit from them or else not come at all and not be with my friends after we've just done a show. So that's weird.

Keil picked me up at 6.30. I wrote a note for my grandparents, and they came and wrote something on the bottom of it. And they left two messages on the answering machine; they were worried that I had died. I bought some Zeppelin, some Godsmack, and Doolittle by the Pixies. We rehearsed until 9, ate at Sal's, went back to Keil And Aaron's. Aaron was happier today and we stole two orange cones from where they're doing contruction work behind the West Coast. I came home around eleven and had to call my grandparents, and they had been biting their nails all evening long.

I cut a gigantic piece of my foot off on something while I was trying to change a cd and jump over all the junk on my floor. I think it might have been the metal bar thing that runs along my bed and holds up everything. Or just a can of paint. Hopefully I won't wake up tomorrow with lock-jaw.

Painted a big, green and red Adolf Hitler for the set. That took about three hours. Read a little and rehearsed 6.30-9. Had to sit in the back of Steve's car on the way home where I was tossed around and had my head right next to his speakers.

He listens to some pretty crummy music. I don't know how you could do it. Like two albums of that kind of thing might be decent. But I don't understand why you'd want it as the staple of your cd collection. It's lots of electronic buzzings and thumpings and then guys using the word "nigger" an awful lot. There was one kind of nice song: about the opression of black people. But it was also kind of annoying. It only mentioned black Roman slaves, as if there hadn't been white ones, too. And said, you know, the Elizah Mohammed thing: that I was an evil devil. At the end it said that you couldn't trust any white people, and said that I was too ignorant to know about Spanish Moors. I really don't know what the appeal is to Steve, who is white. But I guess he likes it so that's all that counts.

Keil was working on Jub Jub a little and said I was really good in it, that I was the most natural acting-wise. So I said, "Oh yeah? Then why'd I get such a dumb part?" I guess he didn't hear me though. Eric and I read one of those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books. Aaron's eyes hurt from his appointment getting contacts, so he wasn't in a very good mood, poor kid. Natalie is probably the funniest girl I've ever known. Probably the only one who is really hilarious at all. Zane and Ally just kept talking about the most boring things in the whole world. Allison has such a weird smell. It hurts my head.

Rehearsed, eleven to one. It's very nearly ready so we didn't have to do too much. Watched Animal Crackers with Aaron. I don't know if he's feeling okay. It's hard to tell, because he pretends he is when he isn't most of the time. Which is a rotten thing to do to yourself. It's a rotten thing to do to people who care about him, really. He says he doesn't like depressing other people. Being noble is pretty dumb though. He acts really sad and just sits around and bitches about things, and then he won't say why. So of course I empathize and want him to feel better. And also I'm really bored by people who just sit around like that. And anyway it'd be nice for me to be able to hear his problems and to help him. But instead he just depresses me. Because I suggest things to make him feel better, like that we should dance to the Pixies, but he won't let anybody help him. So I always feel like such a bad friend. But I guess if he'll be okay anyway soon then I'll leave him alone until he's more pleasant.

Aaron said that I'm really lively and jumping around nearly all of the time but that whenever I'm tired I'm completely dead and really cranky. But I'm never just in the middle like everyone else. I think that's pretty accurate. I'm not sure if he was complaining or not. But I guess he was really tired and I was punching him around and wanted to wrestle. So I guess he thinks I'm bi-polar or something, which I could be. He said I was hyper-active.

Rehearsed from ten till four or five. Got lunch at Wendy's. I went home and then went back to Keil's at six. I had to sew a button on my shirt and my parents were complaining about my room. We went bowling. Then Mike was having a party. I stayed for about fifteen minutes -- it wasn't very entertaining. It was all the people from the play and then Mike and two other people, so I just got a ride from Keil to my house. The goofiest part is that we sat in one room and the three other people sat in another. So I was just seeing the people I see every day.

It was a good day, but I had to rush home before it went bad. Most of my days are good. But then I stay with people ten minutes too long and then that ruins it. It's like being in the mafia. You just need to know when to quit. Like Goodfellas or something. If you don't use drugs and just know when to stop, you'll have a nice day.

My mom took me on her way to work from lunch at one-thirty. Just the models and Aaron were rehearsing, so I walked around town. I found a thrift ship in the middle of nowhere, a part of Bloomsburg I'd never seen. Near the railroad. They didn't have anything good at all there, except for six Dune books for two dollars all together. So I got those and stole some metal from the tracks. I bought some tea. The bag my books were in broke from the metal, so I threw all of it out but a small piece, and then had to carry everything for about a mile back to the Mitrani. It all kept falling. It was really fun to haunt the streets and see all the beautiful things that would look so great in black in white. Like really nice shots for the Oedipus thing I want to do. I was thinking he could live in those rooms above the Children's Museum.

The Childen's Museum is weird to me. Because when I was little, I just played in the woods, real woods. Not in their kind of muslin woods. Those poor kids. I mean, what fun could they possibly be having being shoved around by all those goofy middle-aged Linda Hartung types with lots of plastic imitations of things kids should do? Linda Hartung is nice, but she's not wildly fun like little children should be. She's insanely worried about everything.

When I opened my eyes it was two, so I guess I need to start setting my alarm. I had a dream where I was Woody Allen. I called Aaron at about 4. He was sleeping and said that he was feeling better. I'm supposed to go at five-thirty and then we'll get a ride somehow.

Last night in an ashtray at the shop there were some pretty long butts, so I was playing around with one, saying, "Here's lookin at you, kid," and "I'm no good at being noble..." and then fake-putting it out, saying, "That's my family, Kay, that's not me." So I guess Keil wants Reggie, my character, to smoke. And that's fun to do, really dramatic. A character needs something. Even in comedy you need something. Otherwise it's boring to do.

We rehearsed from 6 till 11. Aaron died his hair. Red. There was no blue at CVS. It looks really good. We stopped at McDonald's after getting dye but the bastards didn't have any milkshakes and they over-priced my fries, so I stole their "Caution: Wet Floor Sign". Everyone else put streaks in their hair. I could never buy hair bye. I'd always think that I could have bought a really cool cd or something instead. He looks great though.

I sat around at Keil and Aaron's for about an hour afterwards, which I really shouldn't have done. It was pretty fun originally, but then Keil went to bed and Aaron just kept playing freecell, so I was bored and tired and we have to rehearse at two tomorrow, which I don't want to do. So I was feeling glum. And that makes me feel insecure. I just get that way when I'm tired.

My parents are going to a winery next week. They don't even drink wine. They want me to come along. But I legally can't drink wine. It doesn't make sense. I kept saying to them, "But you hate wine, you hate wine." And they suddenly realized it, too. But then they said, "Oh, right. Oh, well."

Everytime my great-grandfather comes to our house he brings a bottle, he gets it from someplace, and it just goes in the sink. They don't know what else to do with it. And, I mean, even though they do occasionally drink wine, they probably couldn't tell you what "vintage" meant. It seems to me like something they're going to hate. So it doesn't make sense to me that they'd go there. They really seem like the Small Time Crooks couple when they get like this.

I really love the part in Small Time Crooks, when she's telling the Hugh Grant character that he looks so young, and he's like, "Yeah, there's probably a painting of me in a closet someplace." And she just says, "A painting of you in a closet? Why would there be a painting of you in a closet." That's exactly what my parents would say.

I called late in the afternoon and Aaron wasn't in a very good mood and wouldn't say why, but I think it was something to do with the moon. I gave him a jar of olives but that didn't cheer him up any. The rest of the day he was pretty somber-looking. Like he kept sitting apart from everyone, like on the concrete outside the Mitrani, whimpering. It was cinematic, I guess. He does it in such a way that it makes me feel sad too. I really feel concerned and bummed when he's upset about things, but then he's one of those people who says that he can't talk about it, you know. So it's really unfair to make people care about how you're feeling and then not at least say why. So I just ignored it and did all my impressions for Keil - Jimmy Stewart, Nixon, Woody Allen, and then I started saying "Rhett! Rhett! Where are you Rhett! I'm pregnant again." And then I acted like I was toppling down a staircase. So He said we should remake Wuthering Heights. Oh, and I pretended to be Hugh Grant. That was pretty funny. He just sucks on his teeth all the time and wiggles his brow. It's so dumb.

When I got o Aaron's, we weren't sure how we were going to get to Bloomsburg. He was sulking on his couch, poor kid. I think he's lovesick. But then Zane came to get us. We rehearsed until about ten and then I worked on my painting until 3. It came out really well. Keil wants lots of Pop things. So I did a Groucho Marx in orange and green. When I saw this big, narrow board in the shop I suddenly knew that's what it should be, and it looks cool. Maybe I'll do the other two later. Harpo and Chico. But I think I'll just do like a soup can or something, or some Elizabeth Taylors. There are about ten boards I'm supposed to paint.

At Aaron's, I was reading John's Rolling Stone book, lots of interviews with film stars. Does anyone know if that St. Elmo's Fire movie is any good? It looks bad; all the actors annoy me. But it was in the same book as Brando and De Niro and Alfred Hitchcock and Kubrick and lots of really great people. So I guess it could be good. I don't know.

I was watching a movie and Aaron called. He could give me a ride, but only if we could go to Wal-Mart first. It's probably the worst place in the world. You should always just go to the Salvation Army. He needed pants or something, I guess. And he wants to dye his hair so we were looking for that. I keep asking him why, you know, but he can't explain it in a way that makes sense. It defies logic. And that's okay, except for anything that defies logic must simultaneously be fun, which I can't see dying your hair being. That's my system. Either it's logical and necessary or is fun to do. Like burshing your teeth is necessary, so I do it all the time. But brushing your hair isn't, so I don't. Drawing isn't necessary, but it's fun. So you do it. Drawing's almost necessary anyway.

He said once that he'd lose respect for me if I started using drugs. But I think drugs make more sense than dying your hair. I think he was just in a bad mood the day he said that though. And it's goofy coming from him of all people, because of course he loves all the same drug-inspired rock stars that I do.

We went to Sheetz where we got a hoagie, and it was sort of a misunderstanding; he just ate all of it when I thought half of it was mine. I guess I misheard him, but I thought he said that, if I gave him some money for the tax that I'd get part of it. But he didn't remember saying it. So I guess I made it up. He really has a rotten memory though, and says things like I'm crazy when I remember things he doesn't.

Then we put the set together, which makes rehearsing so much better. And we were getting boards and things for me to paint on. Keil wants some Popism-looking things for the walls I'm going to do. I wasn't really sure what kinds of boards I wanted, and Nick said that I was spineless and needed to be more assertive. Which is exactly right, I guess. I really should have just said, "Hey, isn't that hoagie mine?" Which I guess I did, but not loud enough to be heard, really. I just sort of mumble those things and then leave. Maybe I'm really just hoping that people will be nice without me having to ask forcefully. I don't know how to do it though. Of course to people I don't like I can be forceful. But I don't know how to boss around people I'm friends with.

It's kind of strange that all my other detractors say I'm too ruthless. I guess maybe it's because I'm not friends with them. But he really knew what he was saying. So I should work on it. He said, "No wonder people walk all over you." So I guess people really do walk all over me. I thought I was just being paranoid. That's what people say when I point out that they're not being nice to me. They say I'm just making it up, reading too much into things. That I'm neurotic. They leave me alone in the basement reading books while they go swimming and say, "What do you mean I'm not being a very good friend to you?" If my friend was alone in a basement and didn't specifically ask to be alone, I think I'd probably try to do something else with them while everyone else went swimming. I sort of expect that to be reciprocated without having to ask. But I guess other people do ask, really. But I really act before they ask. Hell, I don't know what I'm complaining about.

For some reason, when anyone asks me what I want to do, I just forget what I want to do. But I must work on it, because I really am tired of not eating hoagies which are mine and going swimming with Liz when I want to go rafting. And also I should be assertive and ask --- tell --- people to recognize that I've got a problem with being confident in asking other people to do things, and that they should help me out by not being jerks.

I went to get a drink and Natalie was on the street with her boyfriend; she was playing hookey, I guess. But where I was going to get some tea was closed, so I just walked back. Zane went to Philip's though. Quinn was playing there tonight and I saw him earlier but didn't know what to say. So I just stood next to him for a minute while he talked with Zane, he commented on my beard and then I just walked away. Quinn really looks like John Lennon. He plays guitar better.

I was trying to read but then I got caught up in The Shining, which was so bad I couldn't stop watching. (Not the good, Kubrick version.) The acting made Shelley Duvall look like Katharine Hepburn. And the Tony character was actually a character, not just a finger. It looked so cheesy. He floated in the air. And they were doing shots down the hallways like it was Kubrick. Like the shot out from Alex's eye at the very beginning of Orange, the really long pull-back. You could tell that's what they wanted, only the hallway was really short so it didn't work. I watched until the commercial and then got back to my book.

Eric picked me up. We didn't rehearse though, just put up posters all over. Then everyone wanted to go swimming and we met up with Steve and Eric went to the dentist. I was feeling kind of bummed anyway and I wasn't in the mood to go swimming. But Aaron pulled me in. So of course all the money I had on me is wet and probably ruined, but it made my day a lot nicer.

As soon as I woke up I had to eat meatloaf, which is gross. It was too early to protest and I knew that if I did open my mouth I was so tired that I'd end up telling everybody off. So I ate about half of it and most of my potatoes and then I just left to my room. Meatloaf is such an insane concept. In the middle of your plate, you've just got this gigantic ball of oatmeal mixed together with fat. It's so bland that it seems just like you're spooning grease into your face.

And then my mother puts this ketchup sauce onto it, and ketchup is about the most horrifying thing in the world. Next to tomatoes themselves. I mean, it's also go vinegar or whatever, and loads of preservatives and hormones. So it's about the ten most vulgar things to eat mixed together, and then it really becomes more than the sum of all its parts anyway. So I think it's a creepy thing for anybody to eat. I just scrapped it off.

Mary called and she's going to mail me some brownies sometime. And Heather was listening in, and she kept complaining that I was just talking about brownies when she needed the line for important business. And then later she said, "What, are they magical brownies?" Which they were, so it was funny. But it was more or less a joke that she was going to send me magical brownies, and I'm not sure that I'd really eat them anyway. It'd be fun to just give them to someone like Linda Hartung or something, and let her eat them all and see her rip off her blouse and tear through the woods like a maniac.

Mary has a copy of the Easy Rider screenplay that she stole, so I'm going to find a copy of it on the internet and we're going to put it on together. I get to be George and Billie, and she's playing Wyatt and most of the other characters. George is the best, really.

My mother is insane. She just keepts bitching about everything to me. It's so hot so I don't really wear clothes unless I'm going someplace, just a sheet. If I could wear nothing though man then I could really reject society. But even with that she just keeps yelling about it. If there weren't a sheet I guess it could be a problem. But I had the foresight to realize how crazy she is so I've at least got that, but she keeps yelling anyway.

She also keeps coming in and saying, "Give me thirty bucks for this thing which you absolutely don't want so I can buy it for your when I go to the store." She thinks my camera needs some sort of case. Which it does, but not for any sum of money that I'm willing to give. She said, "It'll only be like twenty bucks." But that's three used cds or like 18 paperback books at Mugsy's.

It's so much nicer to have talked to him and know that we're not doing anything, rather than sit around and wonder. I can't help but to really feel kind of ripped off though. But it's not as if it were his fault in any way that he's got to work and go to his aunt's. It's just a bummer.

I was wondering the other day why there's internet porn with like "hot Asians" and "hot black girls" and American girls and European girls or whatever, and Persian girls, etc. But there's never any Jewish girls. It's weird. Aaron told me that he thought maybe it was against their religion, but I don't know how that could be. He doesn't believe me when I tell him that you can be Jewish without actually practicing: that it's a race and not just a religion. He's so funny when he gets one of his insane convictions like that. Also, wouldn't it be hilarious to start making pornos with blind people in them? I don't know why no one's thought of it before. Or mute people, and they had to sign dirty things. Or even like phone sex for deaf people, on braille.

That fucker Aaron was supposed to call in the afternoon and we were going rafting. But of course he didn't and I left all the books I wanted to read at his house yesterday so I just lazily sat around and watched a movie and read more of The Andy Warhol Diaries in my bed. Then I tied the bedsheet I've been wearing around the house toga-like so I won't offend my sister's friends around my neck and put my shoes on and ran through the woods.

Poor, poor Aaron. He's the nicest guy and no one knows it. Everybody thinks he's a heartless bastard. I know why they'd think that: it's because he's always saying he'll call tomorrow and you can go rafting with him and he never does. That sort of thing will make you seem callous and unfriendly very quickly.

But he's really only just the kind of prick that very often I am to other people, like me never looking at Liz and always saying nasty, biting things about Zane when he's in front of Mara. And I never want to have to justify why I'm a jerk. So I can understand it entirely when he doesn't remember to call. He's just, you know, his own man, I guess. That's what his mother told me on the phone the other day, anyway. It's such a corny thing to say. She's always saying corny things, actually - now that I think of it.

The other day I was at his house and he just slept. He looks so gross when he's sleeping. People always write poems about sleeping people, comparing them to angels. But Aaron's head always bends down to his chest and his neck creases when he sleeps. All the bacteria and sweat come out of your eyeballs and skin, too. And his eyelids look dark. He seems to me just like a very old woman when he sleeps. An old Italian woman with hair above her lip. It's so gross and I didn't have anything to do for hours and hours at his house. He kept apologizing. I'm never in the mood for apologies. It'd have been a lot nicer if he wasn't tired. But he was and who am I to tell him not to be?

It's kind of zep to be anticipating a phone call all afternoon though. It makes you feel so pathetic. But mostly the only very annoying thing is that I forgot those books. I've got hundreds of things sitting around here that I bought and started the first 70 pages or so and then put into stacks, but I'm not in the mood for them. These ones I was really wanting to read.

Also, you can't really feel let down anymore when you know very well that you're not going to get called anyway. It's sort of a joke to me when Aaron makes plans to do things with me. He's one of the few people I really like and probably the person I've had the most fun with. But we never do anything fun together anymore, which bums more me than anything else. Everytime I come over we end up digging holes.

Der Steppenwolf is really probably one of my favorite books ever. The ending is kind of strange, but it's basically just about this guy who can't fit into society. He wants to love other people, I'm pretty sure. Only he periodically realizes that people annoy him out of his mind. So he comes up with the idea that he's half man and half wolf.

Today I felt like a wolf, and didn't want to see anyone. I really didn't want to come to rehearsal also because Zane and Liz were coming, and they annoy me and confuse me and make me feel more awkward than basically anyone else. She just kept laughing her rotten laugh and talking like Mia Farrow, and then they just stood in the pool. I mean: just stood there. It was so boring. And they kept talking like my parents. Gives me such a headache. And then Aaron took off his shorts to be funny. Which it might have been, except we were at Gabe's. And Gabe is very sweet and always makes us pizzas when we come over, but if his mother had been awakened by Aaron's shrieking that late at night and seen him naked, Gabe would have been in a lot of trouble.

It was so odd then, because he kept saying to Liz, "Blow bubbles up at my cock," and things like, "Well it's a lot bigger out of the pool. It just shrinks in water." It was humorous because Zane started looking distressed and awkward. He kept pacing around and re-drying himself and you could tell he didn't know what to do, wondering if his girlfriend would start sucking Aaron off in the pool. But, I mean, Aaron was really just being an ass. The way he said everything was so phony. It's really artificial whenever he sorts of shows off like that. Makes you want to puke. Keil mentioned the same thing to me once on another occasion. If I were a girl I'd be so bored with the way he tries to charm people, I don't know how I'd stand it.

The thing was, though, we didn't do any rehearsing and we just went swimming. So, understandably, it was worthless. It was basically the precise opposite of what I'd intended. It is the last time I nobly do anything I'm not in the mood for.

Rehearsed until noon. I was going to go home, but Nick wanted to eat first. So I fell asleep next to Aaron on his couch. I woke up and looked through some Where's Waldos and Zane came by and woke Aaron up by poking him with a toy musket and then he left immediately after he woke him up, and then Aaron went up to his room to sleep and Carol took me home and I ate a sandwich and read and got a letter from Allison and Eric picked me up around 8.30. We rehearsed until about 11 and went to Dunkin Donuts. On the letter she signed it "Alli," and I realized I'd been spelling it like she was a boxer the whole time.

Aaron and I were going to watch Duck Soup and then go rafting together as sort of a birthday present to me. But I guess he's watched it already without me, so that's kind of a bummer. (Adam and I have decided that the term "zeppo" should be used in place of "bummer" - which sounds goofy - as a noun which means something mildly sad -- because Zeppo is the boring Marx Brother. Really it doesn't mean something you cry about. It just means gee, that's really too bad. Oh, well.)

The answer is this: don't give a fuck if you don't get to go rafting and if your friends are always letting you down. You've got to lose your attachments and free your mind. So zeppo should just mean a negative thing, but not nec. something that's going to be painful to you. Just something you dislike and don't want, but (in a Buddha kind of way) you won't let yourself make it ruin your evening.

It's kind of awkward accepting money from people. It puts you in such a bad position that it's really not worthwhile. I always feel like I didn't do anything to deserve it, that I was really pretty glad to just do it. But then for whatever you did which is worth maybe one dollar, they can't exactly just hand you one dollar (societally) without seeming cheap. So they give you a five and you're supposed to play that "Oh I can't accept this" game. It's so insane watching my mother and grandmother deciding who pays the check. They get very cruel about making the other one let them pay.

The other day when Aaron and I were at Mimi's we were chipping tiles and everything. But Aaron didn't want me to help since there was money involved and he wanted it all. Which is perfectly understandable. So I promised to let him have everything because I didn't want to just sit around while he did stuff and also I thought that that way he'd get done faster and we'd be able to do something fun together. But then afterwards I just felt kind of used. Like, really pathetic. That I'd do basically anything for him and maybe I shouldn't. I mean: if you're some other guy's bitch (which I'm not saying I am) and you realize it --- that must be a strange realization.

I got some books and rented some stuff and my grandparents came over, which was insanely boring. My own parents are very boring, too, I just don't have to sit with them much. But when they come over, too, I've got to be around the four of them for hours.

I like them. I really do. It's just that almost anyone over the age of 30 just talks about nonsense all the time. Like "Today I did my crochet for ten hours. I bought nice curtains, too. They're big and red. And the lady at the store was really nice to me. It's supposed to rain later tonight."

I went camping and that was very fun. Everyone's really great and funny and they like me and laugh at most of my jokes. I met Chuck, who seemed pretty cool though I didn't see him much because he had to go and I'm not sure if he really liked me much. But he liked Green Day a lot and had the sense to skip to track seven, which is close to being my favorite song ever. It's really my theme song.

I slept for about an hour, went home and lied in bed for forty-five minutes or so until Keil came. We all went to Gabe's house where we ate and took naps. It was probably the least worthwhile rehearsal ever. I was really too tired by then to be much good to anyone and didn't feel like talking. That always makes me kind of, eh, defensive, I guess. When I'm tired and not in the mood to be around people, I always get the idea that they want to be around me even less. Which isn't exactly a legitimate complaint, I know. So anyway, I didn't feel like interacting with everyone enough to go swimming, and I was basically glad to leave for my house and my bed when I finally did.

Keil and I and Aaron though had a nice discussion on my way home which made the trip to Bloomsburg and my not getting any sleep a decent situation. That's particularly nice for me, too, because always in car rides I feel lonely in the back seat with all conversation out of earshot. I realize that it's just because I've lost my mind that I would feel lonely because of being in a car, but Keil and Aaron always look like they're talking about the most amazing things while I'm in the back and the cd playing is too loud for me to be a part of whatever they're doing. It isn't all the time, by any means. Just when I'm feeling screwy to begin with or the trip is especially long do I feel awkward in cars.

I'm busy and tired and reading the Kerouac I bought the other day. He's such an awesome guy. I want to make a movie about him and Burroughs and Ginsberg and Cassidy everyone. As soon as I read everything they've written and research it fully, I'm going to make a screenplay, which I've sort of already have an idea for how to do it. I mean, the setup isn't too hard and you could probably rationalize following most of the books for getting situations and bits of dialogue. But I've got a few thoughts on the real tear-jerking pathos part of it which I can't really reveal to you now. I'm sure my idea is entirely fictional and would piss a lot of people off, but I think it's good anyway. You should just take my word for it.

Also, when I got home there was a package for me, which I thought must be some really rotten cd from an estranged aunt. Once my mother told her I liked jazz music, so she got me like Kenny G or something, it was gross. But it was from Elizabeth, and it was The Andy Warhol Diaries. I realize what an absolute asshole I am for never talking to her anymore, because she's probably the single most kind person to me, who's always let me complain to her and go to lunch with her when I had no one else to see, and I basically just used her for support until I got my other relationships in order, and then threw her over entirely and stopped, you know, acknowledging that she's even around, basically.

I don't really know what to do. I just feel so damn awkward around her. And, I mean, not just her. But basically everyone except for a very limited amount of people. She's very nice and I appreciate her very much. I just can't relate to her or understand her. It's not, of course, just her that makes me feel unable to speak or generally enjoy myself. Zane does, too. And Mike, actually. And not because of whatever twisted and boring relationships they've got between them; not at all that. But just because I don't feel comfortable near them. They're tedious about everything. And they're so uptight about things.

The other day after practice they went to Dunkin Donuts. Keil and I snuck through the drive through and I went home; I was very hungry but I just can't be near them in a restaurant booth and have to listen to them. Whenever I drive with Liz and Zane, which is never anymore, I used to have to stick my head out the window so I didn't have to hear. And Mike man: he's nice. But he's so over-revered like some sort of buddha. Everyone comes up to him and rubs his stomach or whatever and says they need advice. But he's so homophobic that I don't know how you could take what he says about philosophies seriously. He's very provincial so I just don't mention anything around him.

Fuck being guilty though. I feel good. I mean, aside from my being worn out making me not want to sit at Gabe's house with girls who make me feel uneasy, I feel very good. It's really important to me that I've got my good friend Aaron as my good friend again. And really that somehow makes everything else, like reading alone in my room, a lot more pleasant. It really just obliterates my everyday anxieties.

Rehearsed, filmed; Aaron and I pulled around lots of boards; Aaron and I went to Mimi and John's. We chipped apart tiles and listened to the BBC Sessions and watched a Marx Brothers film. I had fun. Aaron hates Billie Holiday and Bob Dylan. I am suddenly very tired. Mimi and I built a bench in her basement. Maybe we're rehearsing tonight. I really kind of hope we're not. I don't know how anyone could hate Billie Holiday or Bob Dylan. It's inhuman.

Chipping apart floors and moving around boards with Nick is just like hiking in the woods. It's very spiritual and your hands start to quiver. You lose yourself in it and, I truly think, if I did it long enough on a giant giant floor which was infinite in the ten directions of space, that when I finished I'd have found nirvana.

Well, everysooften it's my practice to piss off religious zealots. My aunt sent me a petition about that "under God" stuff, asking me to sign it to keep the words there. Naturally, I replied to her and to all of her friends about what a crock I thought god was, and how unconstitutional it is to praise him through government institutions. No one, of course, considered anything I had to say.

What I hate most is this: whenever I say anything truthful but criticizing about something, people think I'm to blame for the faults of whatever I'm criticizing (they say that I don't like things because of my personal problems). That's really dumb.

Track Nine on Pisces is a cover of that dorky Stevie Nick's song "Landslide." But Jesus Christ, I swear it's the most beautiful thing I've heard since the first time I played "Across the Universe" or "The End" or Chopin's Piano Sonata No. 2 (Funeral March). It's so beautiful. "Stairway to Heaven" has never made me feel this euphoric (or desperately sad). Download it right away or you can borrow it from me.

Everything --- from The Seven Year Itch to my Far Side calendar to that whole thing with the World Trade Center (which I absolutely refuse to refer to as "Nine/Eleven," because that's just stupid). I thought it could lead to a new era in American policy: broad, sunlit uplands, etc. and that we'd suddenly be peaceful to everyone. And I think everyday when I'm changing it, "Oh, today it will be funny. Today Gary Larson might meet the expectations I've got for him." --- everything is a huge disappointment for me. Everything leaves me feeling ripped off.

He said he might be busy, and of course I assumed he would be. I also assumed that "busy" would be that he was working with Seamus Heaney on a new verse translation of Beowulf, or that he was pulling down the Berlin Wall or liberating Tibetans or giving testimony before the Senate. I thought he'd at least be jamming with his band.

It's the most insulting thing anyone's ever done to me: Aaron went shopping with Zane instead. And I say this only half-jokingly. I mean it: it's pretty godamn rotten, you feel like you've really got the short end of the stick, when you show up at your friend's house and his mother says, "Well, gee, he's off at Wal-Mart with Zane. Want me to have him call you later?"

I'm not angry about it; I'm not, you know. I'm not crying into my pillows(etc.). I really don't seriously give a damn. It's just funny as hell, you see, it's funny as hell that people are throwing me over so they can go to the mall with Zane.

This isn't even the first time this has happened to me. My whole life, since I met Zane in the fourth grade, all of my other friends he's been stealing away from me so he can take them shopping. The first girl I ever loved was lost to him, and to his in-store credit at Sears.

I actually went shopping with Zane myself once, and what a nightmare that was. I and Keil and Zane and Mara and Liz thought we'd have a grand time visiting the Barnes&Noble. But, listen: it's a godam bookstore. There's nothing special about it. It's a little big. But it doesn't have anything you couldn't possible ask your local retailer to order, and it didn't even have what I wanted, anyway (which was Mao Zedong's Little Red Book). Go to the website, old sport. Pay the shipping and handling and save yourself the torture of an afternoon with Mara (and Zane recklessly following after her, down the classics' aisle, knocking down copies of The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas and Harriet Stowe and J.R.R. Tolkien as they go so that he can try to ravish her behind the condiment stand in their ugly little coffee shop).

Does everyone remember when I made fun of Missionaries and pissed off scores of people? Or the time I made Mrs. Hendricks break things and go Charles Manson on Millville High School? Or in the third grade, when all the teachers had just gone on strike, and I hated our Spanish class, so I led my own? I terrorized Mrs. Mausteller old sport. I really did.

Well I'm very sorry about being an asshole. I'm being sarcastic about the Mara thing, you see. Because I'm really kind of mad that that's the thing that makes people call me names, you know. I am an asshole, and I deserve to be called one, but not for that, not for the things people call me on.

Celia really struck me in The Cocktail Party. The dreamer is no more real than his dreams --- that sort of thing: it really sort of struck me, grabbed at me, made me feel like such a Romantic to want anything more than to live unhappily in Suburbia, or, hell, in the City, or anyplace, but to be anything but unhappy --- it's almost an impossible aspiration. You talk to Zane or anyone, and they act like you're a Nut because you want something more than to be dulled and emotionless like they are.

You're a horrible bastard if you want anything real; and if you've got an ounce of integrity. And that's why I feel so sad watching Manhattan. This poor guy, you know, his friend says, "You don't have to be God all the time." And Woody Allen's character says, "But I've got to aspire to something." Which is funny, of course, on one level. But then it's heartbreaking, too, because he just wants to be decent and true and not have to settle on the lesser of two evils anymore, he wants to be sincerely happy, and not the kind of phony that everyone else is.

That's why I love Holden Caulfield, I guess. Because he and Woody's characters are both neurotic wrecks, but they don't want to be. They only are because they can see how stupid they are and everyone else is, and they don't want to be a part of it anymore. They want a little bit more than that. And, of course, expecting too much from the world makes them chronically unhappy.

My sister told me yesterday that I smell like a hoagie, which is surely the most accurate thing she has ever said. There are those gross ones that come in little plastic bags that church groups are always trying to sell me, with little astronaut packets of mustard and mayonnaise inside.

Also, we spent about two hours looking through books (bought Tender Is the Night, Eliot's The Cocktail Party, two plays by G.B.S., Ragtime and The Autobiography of Malcolm X). Liz got some Anthony Burgess and had an egg sandwich. ($9.86 at Rachelle's, $5.25 at the store with the Old Lady in the Neck Brace).