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THE FIST OF CONFUSION

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(no subject) [Sep. 20th, 2004|12:04 pm]
THE FIST OF CONFUSION
Please welcome von_doom to our little community.

Because of some radical changes in my life, and because I've hated the name since I hit "save", the "Hardqore" journal is go bye-bye. I'm not going to update it any more. von_doom will be friends only.
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(no subject) [Sep. 16th, 2004|06:56 pm]
THE FIST OF CONFUSION
Whatever happened to the tracksuit party? Did you supercilious bastards cut me out of that?
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(no subject) [Sep. 14th, 2004|11:45 am]
THE FIST OF CONFUSION
Say what now?
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(no subject) [Sep. 14th, 2004|11:24 am]
THE FIST OF CONFUSION
I haven't read the whole thing yet, but it terrifies me:

PISCESCollapse )

I'm not ready for any of this!
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(no subject) [Sep. 11th, 2004|06:50 pm]
THE FIST OF CONFUSION
Shit's very weird right now. It's too much to go into. I'll talk to you about it later, but I'm okay. Sorry I've been such a weird ass.
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(no subject) [Sep. 3rd, 2004|02:40 pm]
THE FIST OF CONFUSION
I'm feeling hinky.

Suspect.

Untrustworthy.

I feel like I could blow at any moment.

Also, I think I'm coming down with something.
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(no subject) [Sep. 1st, 2004|04:52 pm]
THE FIST OF CONFUSION
Anita emailed me. She wants me to call her. She hasn't said why. Is she getting married? Is she leaving town? Does she need something? Is something wrong?

God, I feel sick.
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(no subject) [Aug. 31st, 2004|06:35 pm]
THE FIST OF CONFUSION
On Sunday, Sept 19 at 2 pm, local author Ronald Gross will impersonate Socrates at the Brooklyn Public Library 2nd floor meeting room. Is this kitsch? Philopher impersonators? I think with enough ecstasy a Greek night at some nightclub could really hop.
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(no subject) [Aug. 31st, 2004|05:30 pm]
THE FIST OF CONFUSION
Bigtime mood swings. Yesterday I get home and... well, let me cast this in the form of a play.

ENTER Colin, stage left, carrying bicycle.

ENTER mean-ass LITTLE GIRL, stage right, sucking her teeth.

COLIN: Hi.

LITTLE GIRL: Watch out for the step, there's doo doo.

COLIN: What? Doo doo? Okay.

Meet cute, right? So, yesterday afternoon I am sort of scootching through all this fucked up traffic--the RNC traffic actually is not too bad, but all the drivers are very confused, sort of cowpunched--I'm scooching left to right, and bump tires with this girl who's scootching right to left. She's adorable. She's got these long brown legs, thick dark hair in braids and she's smiling and maybe maaaaybe 24:

COLIN: Hi!

(familiar, as if meeting an old pal at a prearranged place.)

GIRL: (laughs) Hello.

COLIN: Please, go ahead.

GIRL: No, you go. I'll follow you.

So she follows me out of the little taxi maze. I'm ahead of her for a while, then at one point I end up behind her. At one point I'm alongside her. Then our paths split and it occurs to me, Colin, you fucking dope! But I was, I dunno, working and I'm working on burning my bridges here. I want to. So really, whatever. But I wake up this morning in such a funk. It's the being angry. I can't sustain it at all. There's something wrong with my anger pump, like maybe a blown gasket. I get some good anger pressure and then woosh, it's gone and I'm totally demoralized. So I'm dragging my ass all day. The sun comes out and I feel a little better but still, I can't fucking stand myself. I find myself like to a bad oyster.

Yesterday morning I am riding up Washington street and I see this little old blockheaded man getting on a super-expensive titanium bicycle, like something the Terminator would extrude from his belly metal, and he looks up at me with that caught-celebrity look and it's Lou Reed. I don't has hi! I don't say, hey, we have the same birthday! what I do comes spontaneously from the depths of my punk-ass New York Reedness: I sneer. I sneered at Lou Reed. A fucking titanium bike! Gonna ride that uptown to score some smack, you old freak?
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(no subject) [Aug. 28th, 2004|11:07 am]
THE FIST OF CONFUSION
Twelve hours of sleep has improved my outlook a bit. I recognize that I am cultivating a sour, shitkicker attitude in order to tough out this next phase of the collapse of my personality. Like, I'm getting pissed off at my friends so that they won't be a reason to stay here. (Not you, Todd & Matthew.) I'm not working hard to keep track of a certain girl so that she won't be a reason for me to stay here. Etc. And it occurs to me that there are a lot of little metallurgy shops in Long Island and, if I am living rent free, I could actually apprentice at one of same for a while. I could do art, like I gave up on doing 10 years ago under pressure of ... well, of whatever. I could get a flashy little motorcycle, like Prince used to have. I wouldn't wear all that fringe, though, I'm too butch. I am a bit worried about stuff like the cedar chest. What will happen to the cedar chest? It won't fit in my mother's car. It probably won't fit in her house. I'm afraid she'll want to throw it out. It's too fine to throw out.

I was thinking that I might adopt the nom de plume Von Doom. That would be funny, right?
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