candy, darling

i had a whole list of productive things to do today including getting my taxes done, cleaning my apartment and running over to the "family planning" clinic to get my birth control prescription refilled. so far i've been laying around in bed reading holy terror: andy warhol close up by bob colacello. i got up for just enough time to feed myself soup and cheese, then tucked right back into bed and the book. it's almost noon, and i've spent almost the entire morning horizontal. maybe i'm depressed today. i still want to go back to bed and read for the rest of the day, but i know i'm going to hate myself if i do that. maybe i'll make a deal with myself: have a shower, then i can lay around some more, but only if i go to the gym later. failing doing anything i thought i should really do today, i should at the very least leave my apartment. as i mentioned last night, i probably don't need birth control anyway. i'll take the beard. . . yep. i'm depressed today in the particular way that means i don't want to do anything about it. it's a day for wallowing, immersed in self loathing and avoidance. oh my god, no wonder i never go out. . .

i miss m. truth is, sex with him is what i miss the most. that, and how goofy he is, and smart, and how much fun it was to hang out (when we were both not feeling crummy, that is.) i lived in his apartment with him for a little over a month last winter, and it ended up being pretty terrible. it's a very small space and we were both going down our respective roads of mental/emotional disintegration. living together really didn't help. in fact, i know it made it worse for both of us. i didn't want to admit it though. i was hanging on to the optimistic illusion that two depressed, fucked up people could help each other, when we were really just dragging each other further into the dark in spite of how much we cared about each other. (at least that's my perspective. maybe m. has a different take on it.) love does not conquer all, i guess. ok. that sounded pretty bitter. for the record, i moved out and it ended up being ok. i got to have a mental breakdown without dumping the entire thing into m.'s personal space. it wasn't a great situation by any means, but it would have been a million times worse if i hadn't been offered a house sit at just the right time. that really was a gift from the "universe." or whatever. anyway. . .

i feel weird writing about my personal stuff, especially with regards to m. on this blog. i want to do it though. i feel compelled to do it-- it's my outlet. i don't really talk to any of my friends around here about this stuff anymore because i end up always bitching about living here and how much i miss whitehorse and a bunch of people they don't know or understand anything about. i realize i'm alienating myself from my old friends from regina, but once you leave, when you come back, it's never going to be the same, right? excuses, excuses. i know. i've got a million of them for being unhappy. anyway, m. might read this and it might be weird for him too. in fact, it has gotten a bit strange for him for a different, more creepy reason that i won't bother discussing in any real detail, except to say, i realize that the whole point of a blog is that it's in the public domain for anyone to read-- for me, part of the "thrill" of having this blog is never knowing who might look at it. but i feel like i've been exposed in a way that isn't the result of genuine interest or random curiosity. apparently, a link to my blog has possibly been "shared" to further someone else's "agenda" or something. i don't really know, but it creeps me out. and it kind of pisses me off, even though i may not have the "right" to feel that way. i just want to ramble and write any old garbage that i want, about whoever i want (within respectful reason, i suppose) without having to edit to suit anyone but me. or having to worry about someone using my dumbass blog to create discomfort or drama for other people. anyway, that's all i have to say about that. i wasn't going to bother mentioning it, but it's something i've been thinking about, therefore it's blog material.

hmmmm. . . the fascinating/inane life of andy warhol is calling me back to bed. less thinking about "personal issues," more avoidance. oh andy, i love you. . .