2003-04-16 - 3:55 a.m.

I’m systematically destroying my body. Body part by body part. When I was a boy I attacked my penis far too often. Its a tough little rod so its still pumping. Now that I am a man, if that is what I am, I am destroying my liver. On Wednesday all I had was one shot of Tequila while sitting on the quad. On thursday Dan, Chris, and I drank but it was nowhere shitfaced. On Friday I got to the point of puking. And on Saturday it was just heavy drinking. If boozehounding is like sex I just got to third base on Saturday night, I didn’t get the home run like I did on friday.

At work on Sunday my voice sounded like Louie Armstrong. I was scarring the children on the other side of the ice cream counter. But i liked it. It made me sound old. As if I’m not already old. I’m a 22 year old freshman. I have 50 years left of my life expectancy.

My co-workers were very amused by my voice. I told Chris on Saturday that Rob would be quite on Sunday and I was. He stated that as I was hanging out with him. One thing I didn’t right about going to the movies with Chris was the candy. i bought a package of sour candies and I think I rubbed a hole into my tongue. My mouth feels like it is chafed and has rug burns. All the grains that stuck to the candies that made it feel like acidic sandpaper fucked me up. And with the sickness in my thought and nose, my head feels like a stale rotten potato.

On monday at work I tried to self medicate myself. I couldn’t find any antihistamine medicine besides a mentholated vapor rub. I applied it to my running nose every 20 minutes. I lubed up my nostrils with that minty smell like I was a queer preparing my sinuses to endure an awkward fetish. (Think about the sick joke I made in the last sentence. Don’t continue until you get it.) Seeing as I wasn’t going to endure a fetish then I would have nothing to clog into my nose. I carefully hid my sickness from the customers.

I just kept drinking water all day. i must have drank over a gallon in 6 hours and pissed over a gallon in the same amount of time. I must purify my body though. If I can’t have pure thoughts at least my piss is pure.

After work I wrote an essay about Walt Whitman for my poetry class. I can’t write essays well. i try to hard to be clever, witty, or poetic. All the instructor says is that the language of the poem seems off. Of course it does. I’m attempting beautiful prose. I just want to stand out in crowd. When you’re five foot six you have to try harder, so that is what I do.

On tuesday nothing eventful happened. I skipped viticulture because I had to finnish my taxes.

i went to the computer lab to finnish and print my poetry essay. There I ran into Chris, he started me because I was leaning down and I couldn’t see him approach. I grabbed the essay i has just printed and was putting into my backpack. The manic fuck. But i wouldn’t put that type of activity past myself. In the computer lab this girl named Stephanie, who works at Fuzio across from Ben & jerry’s, asks me to read her story. She is taking 5P(Intro to Writing Fiction) from brian Larsen, I know this because I saw her in the class when i went it to promote writeclub.net. I have said it before and i will say it again: i am the Lawrence Ferreghetti of the Davis campus. Everyone shows me their poetry or prose. Her story was just two pages long but she wanted my advice and approval. The story confused me a little bit because i wasn’t in story reading mode. But it was okay. i reassured her that Brian will like it and accept it. I gave her some pointers on how to reformulate the page borders to save sheets of paper on printing. As you can tell, I am very loquacious so i have to cheat as many words as possible on to the page. I wonder if Stephanie knows I’m a Freshman. I see her on the streets and at Delta Venus. I saw her drunkenly wandering on picnic day. And she asks me advice for friction. Well literary artists of Davis California and the world - i am here for you.

At poetry I get bored and read some of the student poetry that my friend Micah is reading. he is in English 5P - Intro the Writing Poetry. I know because of whoring out write club. I read the poems and many suck. And a few more suck. And a couple really suck. But there are some good ones. And even in several of the poems that weren’t good, I saw potential.

Nothing eventful happened in my other classes.

After school I somehow ended up going to a movie by myself. I was eating as El Marricachi and went to go see what was playing at the theater. It was $4 day so i saw the Pianist and head of Sate. The Pianist was a great movie. I really invested in the main character’s plight. But the whole time I was watching it I was wondering if they sell shirts in Germany with the phrase ‘Proud to be German” on them. America fucked up with WW2. Any time someone says that a President is great there is always a refuting argument. With FDR it was 2 things, one is that he could have done more for the poor and minorities and the other is that he should have kicked Adolph's ass in the early thirties. Just like now with Saddam hussein - his ass should have been kicked in 1987. Everyone proud to be an American better realize that we fucked up a lot. I love america but its a tough sort of love. I love enough and respect it enough to know that it isn’t perfect, and improvement is the goal.

I also thought about making my one documentary film where I play the song Jesus loves me while showing holocaust footage and lynchings. Seriously, where was god when the holocaust happened. That is an argument as large as a grave that holds 6 million dead bodies for atheism.

After that film a woman commented that it was rated R. There was only fuck one in the film. I told her that with all the dead bodies and murder and genocide they figured it was going to get an R rating so what was one fuck. Then i said that World War 2 was n R rated type of war. The woman’s husband said that all war is R rated.

I watched the Chris Rock film Head of State. It had its moments but it felt too convoluted. It didn’t feel to cohesive. When it was good it was good - and vice versa.

The fifteenth of April is my nephews birthday. I saw him in the morning and picked him up by his head and wished him a happy birthday. he made me promise him ice cream. I was going to sleep in my car tonight but I remembered i promised ice cream so i go to work and pick up 4 pints of chunky monkey - because he is now 4 - and drive 30 miles home.

My mother wakes up and she tells me about seeing my ex-girlfriends mother. My first girlfriend Jenny had a teenage mother. Her mother ran into mine at Cosco. he mother is a homeless Alcoholic now. She told my mother ago Jenny. After Jenny broke up with me she got real fat. then she lost all the wait and weight watchers gave her a life time membership because of it. The last time I saw Jenny was 3 years after we broke up. She was smoking hot in a blue dress. I hear she is living on SSI. Obviously she has been fucked up by a crazy life. She turns 22 on Thursday. my mother is going to visit her grandparents. if i get her phone number I’ll call her up. i want to hear about the last 8 years. Every genius novelist steals from reality and Jenny seems to be an adventure stitched up in human skin.

The last thing I do is write a letter to the Aggie in response to an opinion piece I read today. My letter was 800 words. The opinion piece was 600. I’m the type of guy that could could an entire book as a response to a haiku poem.

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