[ 21 / 1 / 2005 ] : Lilly (my cat) had an adventure today. I was going out to get ink cartridges. She followed me and got on the backdoor railings to say goodbye. I gave her some pets and the little girl snuck on my shoulders. I walked to the front gate with her on my shoulders, but unlike usual she didn't get down when I was in the front yard. So I let her stay there for a bit before I put her down in the back yard. I told her that she was on the wrong side of the fence but she didn't want to listen. So I let her get on my shoulders again. I showed her the front yard.

A girl walked by and saw her prancing around on my shoulders and said, ``That's an awesome cat.''

I chuckled and said, ``I've never seen another cat that does this.''

She got on my lap (Lilly, not the girl) and we cuddled for awhile in the front before I did errand.

My Lilly...she really is an awesome cat an a wonderful friend. And a sweetheart. She makes me so proud sometimes.

[ 6 / 3 / 2005 ] : Q: What use is a monk?
A: The question answers itself

[ 2 / 4 / 2005 ] : I haven't written in awhile. I suppose I was hoping for something to be worth writing about. Something other than my sadness and my whining about it. But old patterns die hard.

I have basically quit drinking. My organs feel like they're falling apart. I feel old. I drank to drown my sorrows, and because there is nothing to do at night...no way to meet people...except visiting bars.

Today I tried to go to ``The Quiet Party'' (see http://www.quietparty.com/) today. But I was too shy even to go in. I took BART to Civic Center. At about downtown Oakland I started to need to pee. I felt nervous even before this, and didn't think I would be able to go through with this. What was I going to say to people? That I am too shy to even talk with people? That I don't know how to interact with people anymore? That I hate myself? I decided that if the only public bathroom in Civic Center (that I know of anyway) was closed, then this meant that I probably shouldn't go. Of course, it was closed, yet I walked to Gough St. anyway. I just wanted to see...even if I couldn't go in, just to see other people interacting. There was a cute redhead outside, just arriving as I was. But what could I say? I couldn't even look at her...can't even look at other people. Because I wouldn't want to offend people, to bring my eyes where they may not be welcome. I walked by again, and there were three girls outside (and of course, lots of people having fun inside), but how could I look at them?

My friend was surprised when I told her that I had cried from lonliness. As I walked away, into the winds of San Francisco, I cried. I cried because I could not think of hoping to find a way out of my isolation. When you can't think of what can be hoped for, it is hard to try. I cried because its unfair for me to hate others and myself. But its hard not to hate when you have nothing to hope for. And when humanity seems to be falling into darkness...what is there not to hate?

I walked to the Ferry Building as I couldn't find an open bathroom. Why is it that we don't believe in public bathrooms? Why do we want people to suffer?

My sadness draws me further from people, leaving me lonely and deeping my sadness. And the circle closes viciously. I don't know a way out. I don't know how the pattern can break.

``My shoes are too tight. But it doesn't matter, because I have forgotten how to Dance,''
-- Londo Mollari

[ 24 / 4 / 2005 ] : confession pathetique

Is seems my blog and craigslist posts often have some overlap. I'm lonely. I wonder if I will spend the rest of my life in hope of finding someone to love. Perhaps I shalll convince myself that the two-gender system is just evolution's greatest weapon, and not the end of the quest for significance. And perhaps the joy I had felt at being in love -- of having someone to trust, someone I could find meaning in the world for -- perhaps that will fade with time. They say forgetfulness is bliss, though I don't believe anyone ever really forgets. But society has told me over and over that I am undesirable, and the few that would touch me I have turned from -- either out of lack of desire, or out of fear. So no, I doubt I will find a lover in this lifetime.

I would like a friend, but perhaps that is too much for me to hope for. Someone to joke with. Somone to make a fool of myself in front of (though I suppose some would say this is ``everybody''). Maybe someone to drink with -- I've recently given up drinking alone, as its kind of pathetic to sit alone trying to avoid obstructing anyone's glance. But I would like drinking with someone again, as long as the conversation was good.

But maybe this is too much for me to ask for. I have grown dark and fey, and too often the world seems to be nothing but darkness around me. And who could be a friend to that? I walk around singing Tori Amos songs like requiems for feelings I doubt I'll see again. The only time I really feel alone is when I'm among people. When I walk alone in the woods, I am lonely and wish I had someone to share nature with. But it is a slight pang of lonliness compared to the gutting feeling of being alone in a crowd. I see all the other people with companions and lovers and think, ``How horrible of a person am I that I have no one?''

[ 18 / 5 / 2005 ] : For longer than there have been thoughts of atoms and stars, there has existed the question of if we can change what we feel.

Those that believe that they cannot change their feelings feel always sad and beautiful. Sad, for they know that all things shall end badly. And beautiful, for they know their thoughts are blessed. Their souls are sparks that fly into vacuum to have their glow fade in nothingness. But they know that their path is fated, stretching forth from light, even if dascending to darkness.

Those who believe they may alter their feelings at their whim can be happy in what they find amusement in. But their choices have no meaning but for the acquisition of pleasure.

Then what is the truth? Or does it lie between?

``I listened to the song. Your thoughts became the song,''
-- Kosh Narenek