Re: Hey

Hey,
I kind of expected hearing that from my mom. I mean a couple of months ago I told her how in the future I didn't really see myself with anyone and that ideally I would just be in a loft doing my art and being surrounded by it. THAT'S what would make me content. And at that moment she at least got behind me on my need to do art and nothing else, but she was like "Oh Steven, don't say that to your mom, I want you to have a family..." So it was a repeat of that. We cried a bit together. We are really close, which is one thing that they blamed themselves for. I don't understand this blaming business. My dad also blamed himself for being away on business for a lot of my childhood. I haven't talked to him yet.

As far as John goes, we had a night our last year, I think, where we talked about all of that stuff. What bothered us about each other in the beginning, what has changed, what still lingers, etc. The night at Lana's, I ended up staying at the apt because they decided to leave like an hour before we were supposed to return and I thought that was a waste seeing as how we were supposed to leave like two hours before then. And then Lana told me that he was talking a lot of shit about me and I was like, yeah people who think of themselves as "friends" shouldn't do that, especially about stupid things like that. Also, before we moved out we also lightly discussed the fact that we probably wouldn't really talk once we left. It was done kind of jokingly, but I think we both kinda believed it. I texted him once after moving out and he was surprised and was like "So...I guess we are talking...?". This was before Lana's.
I kinda felt like you did have some issues with me, but figured it was something that you didn't care to resolve. I had always considered you to be one of my better friends but had noticed that changing on some of the visits. Could you let me know a little more specifically about the closing off, or the hurtful things I have said? I know that in the beginning I was VERY closed off, sarcastic, defensive, and judgemental, but that was all just how I had learned to be from school and parts of growing up with my family. My family tends to joke a lot and avoid more of the serious issues, we also tend to not speak about the problems we are having. If we are mad at each other or something, we tend to ignore it until we forget about it. I have been learning how to get away from these things, but honestly I know that I still do some occasionally. And I have learned that some people are fine with the sarcasm and others are not. So I am sorry about all of that, and I am glad that you shared that with me.

I don't think I have carried any resentment towards you. Like I said, I have grown up with being able to, or forced to, expel certain things in order to realize the more important ones. Therefore, I'm pretty sure things have come up but I have gotten over them on my own. The only thing that has hurt me has been on certain trips up when I felt that you didn't really want to see me or talk to me especially since I DID feel like we were good friends. It felt like you were just counting down the minutes until I left, which was probably what you were doing, considering how I made you feel. I think you should know that when I spend time with people I usually want to either do an activity, or talk and it is difficult to do both at times. Because of this, a lot of visits are me wanting to do San Francisco stuff that I haven't been able to do in a while, as well as getting to talk. I think that with the amount of time we spend when we DO hang out is not enough for both, and I have always felt that sharing myself with others is boring for them and that they would rather be doing an activity.

So there it is. Also, I think you should know that I don't judge the people that I consider my true friends, and just in general, I have learned to judge people a lot less...unless it comes to art, but then again I'm judging the art not the people.
-Steven

Fri, 4/14/06 11:34 PM

Everything is falling down around me now. Crashing one by one like a Nazi firing squad. How did I get here? When did I lose my sanity? Do I have any idea what’s going on? All questions that I’ll never be able to answer. It’s all these assholes’ fault. Everyone in my life. They all sit around me and appreciate me and it’s sickening. They’re all idiots. They should spend their time doing more productive things instead of caring about me. Maybe they could build dams in Guatemala. Or sell crack on the streets of New York. Either way, they’d be making progress. Caring about me is like driving down a dead end road at 200 miles an hour. Oh you’ll get to the end alright, you’ll just never be satisfied when you’re there. You’ll only be disappointed. Yes there’s an on-ramp that takes you back to the beginning again, but you’re running lower and lower on gasoline every time. I don’t think anyone has run out yet, but I’m sure that a few of them are running on fumes. Their fuel gauges are all fucked up anyway. You can never trust those bastards. I need some grass or whiskey or something. Something to smooth these nerves. Every month I slowly wind myself tighter and tighter until, at the end of the month, I finally let loose in a tidal wave of shit. It’s like the Berlin wall coming down, only it stands for the opposite. It stands for injustice, and lack of reasoning. It all comes down to holding everyone I care about to higher standards. Maybe it’s common practice among people (or loonies), but I think I do it to extremes. I put them down for doing things that I do ten times over. But why? Because I think they’re better than me? Shit no, they’re swine. I’m the supreme King. But WHY then? Maybe it’s because I want to feel special. Or that they’re all characters in my masterpiece, and if they don’t go by my script there’ll be hell to pay. Shit, if they do something I don’t like they’ll get the silent treatment. The guillotine. Hell, maybe turn the Nazi firing squad on them. See how THEY like it. Put them inside my brain, onstage, front and center. Throw these rotten thoughts at them until they squirm. Hateful tomatoes and psychotic lettuce. Shit, that’s the ultimate punishment, being inside my head. If my mind were a form of punishment it would have been banned in the 1800’s, and they were sick fuckers back then. Lynchings, be-headings, flourishing art. But do they all really deserve this? No, not at all. I love them. But why beat them down with my negative attitude then? Because I can. They’ll keep coming back for more. They’re addicted, and like any good dealer, I abuse them. Raise the prices. My stock is rising, so why not have a little fun? Flex my controlling muscles? Because it’s WRONG, that’s why! What kind of sick fucker thinks like this? Hopefully a dead one. So I cool it. Hang out. Don’t be so critical. Let the chips fall. Then, when no one is looking, pick them all up and hoard them in some dark corner of my brain. Keep tabs on everything that everyone does, so that when the time is right I can remind them of that time they accidentally stepped on my toe in second grade. Then they’ll pay, oh yes. Silence again. Maybe some machine gun fire. What a grand old time it’ll be. They’ll rue the day they cared about me, oh yes. I’ll see to it.
Gibberish! Blasphemy! All crazy thoughts. Lock them away in that little black box in the back. No one will touch it until one day a new family moves in and some unsuspecting kid opens it and unleashes it all once again. Every month. New family, same results. I feel different, but end up in the same place. Less and less fuel. How long can I maintain before I take a different road? Is there a hidden off-ramp somewhere? Am I missing an important sign? I know what everyone is going to do and I know exactly how to get what I want. It’s a horrible curse. How do I rid myself of this skill. Frontal lobotomy? Electric shock? Heavy substance abuse? Cross dressing? No one knows, but one thing is for sure: I’ll undoubtedly be tuning in to some random AM station to listen for accident reports. Wherever I’m going, it’ll be a smooth ride. No unexpected stops. Full speed ahead, all the way. I can only ask one thing, and that is that you have some sympathy and some taste. If not, then at least have a large bottle of gin or a hammer waiting for me.

Dear Samantha,

So it's 10:50 p.m. and I have a midterm tomorrow which I still haven't studied for. I seem to be a big fan of winging things. Instead, I watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I fall in love with that movie every time I watch it. It's so beautiful, but sad. Anyway, now I'm listening to The Swell Season simultaneously thinking about high school and forgetting things. As strange as that time in our lives is and how silly and irrational the teen mind is, there's something about that moment we always want to recapture but somehow seem to push ourselves further away from. Lately I've been missing the 16 year old Jess. Don't you ever miss that Sam? I always think about the time we were discussing change and you said that people don't ever really change. I feel that that's true, and if it is maybe we should stop trying to change and just accept ourselves. I bet if our younger selves ever got to hang out with our older selves they would think we were pretty cool! They wouldn't see all the anxiety we have within us because of our own destructive thoughts. Anyway, what I think I'm trying to say is that maybe we should cut the expectations, stop trying to move forward and be something new and different. Instead, let's go backwards. And by backwards I don't mean regress, I mean recapture the people we've already been because those are the people we are. Every time I'm done writing to you I'm not sure if I've made any sense, but I trust in your ability to make sense out of my nonsense. In conclusion, I love you and I hope everything is great where you are.

Love,
Jess