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Excerpting physical notebooks, where I write without stopping....
Watergarden Café Thomastown [Ireland.] I came down had lunch with Kim. She complained so much as we were cooking, it made me withdraw. As she drew me out, I cried a little bit.
I don't feel like fighting. Maybe you should, she said.
[It appears I misplaced this notebook for a while, because the proceeding entries are from March and April of 2006.]
The meaninglessness of words, the abuse of our language. You can see the ineptitude, read the decrepitude.
What am I supposed to say, me being only me.
What. Now, we have the Democratic hawk [John] Murtha spanking his colleagues; now, years later, we have one [who is] irrefutable unassailable he's a hawk telling us what.
The war in Iraq is what.
God bless [Representative John] Murtha [Pennsylvania.]
But God damn.
"In the vernacular."
"In the what?"
"Well, why didn't you just say that?"
Kim's packing up her things to leave my house. She's not going to be staying here on the weekends any more.
God, care for Kim. Sweet Kim, not so sweet lately. I need to be away from her for a while.
I keep pen to paper.
Jesus, I can't believe how much I've let Kim abuse me. It's going to take a long time to rescue any friendship, if that's even possible.
It's going to take a major reorganization to get her to start treating me right.
Last night I drank a half-pint of whiskey and six Tuborgs. Woke up this morning fresh as a spring chicken.
Expand focus upon flatstock printing. You've got a plan, but then you adapt to reality. screenprinting
Modern liberalism is deeply flawed mostly in its near-paralytic ineffectiveness against modern conservatism.
dyin' This is the one you'd use for calling in to work the next day. [In Ireland; drink-related.]
I had a dream this morning with Kim in it. We went to a downtown streetside hangout with people. I left her there to go get something to a cornershop convenience store 7-11-esque joint.
Went to a larger store, further away. Got something photocopied. Looked for chocolate. Found Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.
Went to "Mom and Dad's house." And their motor home. Remembered Kim I'd left her downtown alone well, with people but I hadn't arranged her safety.
Had to maneuver the motor home through inches-to-spare downhill through the stone way opening onto the street.
Ran over a post. Didn't hear it saw it. Big-ass motor home. Hard to steer properly.
I got into some panic, oh god oh god. I don't even know which way to downtown.
Fortunately, I awoke. It was just before 12 noon. Kim's safe, in Thomastown.
I just be sure she's going to be okay.
A springime awakening. I'm going to find somewhere to put my energy, somewhere to put my dick.
In the past year 50,000 people have visited my website.
She advised me to write a business plan for myself, not for the Abbey Business Centre.
Joan Williams. She used to have a job [writing business plans] for one of the "Big 4" accounting firms.
14 April meeting date of ABC board.
Bit too much pressure I put on myself, maybe. Not need to push too fast.
500+ page-views today so far. One person in London on now; 86 pages in 28 minutes.
Up here for thinkin', down there for dancin'. An Irish aphorism
[The] Polish notice behavior [demeanor The Polish tend to be concerned about your demeanor. Of all the nationalities I've met, Polish people would be the most likely to tell you to "smile;" or, for another example, "come on, dance."]
It's not good to work too much.
I've been drinking too much lately. Falling asleep with my clothes on.
Hundreds arrested in Belarus. Lukashenko
Bertie n Tony talked on the peace process.
Anybody old enough and with enough memory oh, and honesty,
most important work was that he helped people to feel okay about doing what they already wanted to do.
get on with business
don't worrry about the poor.
24 March 2006
It is acceptable in Ireland to call in hung-over as opposed to faking other illness when you can't make it to work.
Maybe there's a model in Ireland for the escape of cultures from religious oppression.
The Catholic church in Ireland weilded nearly-total power.
Stories of what school was like 25 years ago
Martial Oppression of children and women considered proper.
I can barely stand to be out in public. Some control conflict push-pull who do I well and who not want to speak to.
Baked baby spuds in the microwave they're cooling a bit they fry up better that way
Botellon means "big bottle." It is a tradition in Spain since I-don't-know-when. Post-Franco no doubt. It's not the kind of thing that floats in a fascist dictatorship.
Indeed, the liberty allowed the Spanish to congregate in public and have a drink is astounding.
City workers go around with sweeper machines, straw-twig brooms. They sweep up all the glass and other debris, early in the morning.
Rustic ancient bars with little or not space inside, that in times of botellon serve beer in small plastic cups. But the drinking of beer is not limited to the patronage of these businesses.
Estimate 700-1000 people [in Plaza San Salvador, in Seville.] Far more than 500, in any case.
"People have the right to protest, [;] that's what democracy is all about," (Condoleeza) Rice told reporters at the Britain Aerospace plant.
International Herald Tribune, 1 April 2006
In reality, democracy is "about" the rule of the people.
The right to protest is what good parents allow their children.
I felt a bit of a panic, on the way back from Urlingford.
It was a flazz buzz a breathing whatsit, a whole-body feeling of numbness and buzz.
I wonder how Kim is doing. So too, the idea that she might have called me then struck fear in my. What why that is strange.
So there it is.
I'm not well inside. I'm suffering from too many panic attacks to leave life enjoyable.
My fear and stress in social situations can be so severe that I don't know what to do. A bail for escape seems sometimes an option. Go out, leave the room.
Sometimes in a car with G_, for example I have nowhere to go.
A foggy numbing buzz came over me yeasterday coming back from Urlingford.
I want physical affection. My body needs to be loved. I need to touch.
Boy, I tell ya, panic is not depression.
Depression has its charms; it cam be melancholic, beautiful in its way; poetic, even.
Panic is abject. Panic, angular, sharp, overlording.
The hazy foggy buzz of panic, the disembodied numbness, the irrational fear that propagates itself. A fear, and then its own fear of itself.
I don't know where it comes from. I recognize a few general triggers. Kim was the first one. Maybe her friendship is important to me.
Enough crying, and the fear goes away. But I know it will be back.
Stress in the morning is a trigger.
The way I let G_ treat me creates a trigger.
Walking amongst Irish women is a trigger.
Anger certainly is a trigger. Self-righteous rage in other words self-replicating anger is a potent trigger
Strong feelings. Uncertainty how to apply them live with them express them.
It is dishonest to associate of even juxtapose the term 9/11 with discussion of Iraq.
[From a dream last night:] Was walking along a dock-way some blondie thinnish same height as me great body she was just walking beside pacing me. I said something like here we are walking aside each other "I guess we just walk the same speed." Yes, she said. We passed through the opening in a chain-link fence.
She turned back to me. We did a balletic little dance-like pirouettic revolvement around each other I took her hand I suggested maybe we should be together.
Ik zal je missen,
als ik ga pissen
I shall you miss,
If I go take a piss.
[See file "aphorisms."]
I miss Kim. Lord knows that's an understatement of the first order.
My life is embattled here. My days are orchestrated around my panic attacks and I know that Kim could help me.
The last couple of weeks have been some kind of excruciating.
I experienced panic for days on end, two weeks every day and a fear of fear. We have nothing to fear but fear itself and it's a mother.
So. I drank those last six beers yesterday they only made me cry.
I have taken her proclamations of "we're not a couple" at face value; have not factored in her occasional willful moments of expression "maybe we should be." And when I told her that I liked Maja (turns out I didn't so much) she whimpered that I've just been telling Ania that Steve and I might be married some day.
I want to be a writer. That's how I want to be successful.
A cientist poet.
Last nite it was 12:30 or so. I sensed felt heard something sitch which some lack of somethn made me uncomfortable.
Went [downstairs] on pretense got tealights
Lads in all fairness...
All in good humor good-natured.
"You can't use the front room for your lovenest."
But it's after midnight.
It'd be different to have a guest but you both live here and you're my friends. I wouldn't be comfortable spending time in this room....