Nirvana

I finished Prozac nation again this morning - it's still the best book I've read. The morning has been horrible so far - Enid isn't here, I had a horrible Monday morning slanging match with mother, and I don't think she's being rational at the moment. I have no CDs - Sprog has the Silverchair one, and Becca has a lot of the others, so: no music! Unless you count downloaded music, which due to my lack of a CD writer I cannot carry round with me. meep.
Yeah, anyway - Prozac Nation completely rocks! Elizabeth Wurtzel has everything I want, literally - she's a world renowned author and a journalist who writes for the New Yorker and the Guardian! I'm jealous. Not jealous of the depression, but I so wish I could write that well. At the moment my writing sucks and I wouldn't be surprised if Space Monkey throw me out - in fact they might do that anyway seeing as I haven't written anything in months.
Never mind. Apathy will claim us all. As long as no-one cares, that is, and no-one does care. I want to write not cause I want to change the world (though that would be nice) but because I love it.
This afternoon, I have:

• Classics
  
• Rounders
  
• Yet another fuck-off fight with mother. Why does she have to be so damn irrational?
  Nirvana... are cool. However, contrary to popular belief, Kurt Cobain isdead.

Strawberries

Word counting in classics is so not what I want to be doing this afternoon. I would rather be at home in bed - or if not in bed, perched on the greatly uncomfortable computer bench because I really don't mind - anywhere but here...
I would have strawberries to eat and Silverchair to listen to, and I definitely wouldn't be wearing school uniform... I'll have to think about it.
I wish I were at home like Enid.
Failing that, I'd like to be... somewhere else. Um... New York. Hawaii. Oh, Vancouver! I would like that. It's pretty there, oh, so pretty - mountains and oceans and the harbour is all sparkling clean and pretty and apparently they film Stargate eps there sometimes. That's why a lot of the planets look the same. Apparently....

Also, apparently, six percent of the American population are on Prozac. I can't think of any mnore pointless information at this point in time.
Why does anyone bother reading this crap? My life is so boring and yet it makes me depressed. This bites.

The Book of the Dead

"What manner of land is this to which I have come? It is not water, nor air, it is depth unfathomable, it is black as the blackest night, and men wander lost and helpless.
In it a man cannot live in quietness of heart, nor may the longings of love be satisfied.
But let the state of the eternal be given unto me instead of water and air and the satisfying of the longings of love, and let quietness of heart be given unto me instead of cakes and ale."

This is an extract from the Book of the Dead. Just thought you might like...

Dirty life

Ahhh.... I have nothing to do. Makes a pleasant change from "I'm bored" doesn't it?
I'm actually doing my Classics right now, and even more weirdly, I'm enjoying it. It's like I'm just writing yet another piece, and I don't mind that. I can even type it and make it pretty and listen to music while I'm doing it - I don't mind it at all.
I've just noticed - even though it's eight thirty at night on a grey, rainy overcast day, my desk is lit by natural light. I guess this means spring has come.
I want this week to be over and also the one after that. I don't care about anything until then. Right now I don't feel like I'm living, only existing, just one more chunk of protoplasm in a world that's already overflowing with its dirty life. I don't know if anyone knows the song I mean when I call myself comfortably numb.
I can live like this for a while. Without feeling anything life is much easier anyway. I can bring myself back to life whenever I want. I choose not to live this dirty life just yet.
I'm waiting.