Thursday, February 06, 2003


This is strange thing: My life doesn't suck. It is I who suck. I guess I needed my life to be OK for me to realize where the problem truly lies. My life is too good and I'm too bad.

This fabulous woman cheered me up immensely:

Artwork of the angriest woman in the world...

She says some brilliant things. About the emotionality of art over an ex she points out that we want to see passion in the movies but not in real life. Well said! The internet--does it count as real life? Still, I see her point.

I still want to know why we can't go crazy all the time. I wrote something about that at some point...too lazy to find it wherever it is...

I want to know because it's such an effort not to be crazy and mess up my life.

Losing my mind and going down in a giant ball of flames lacks the romance it once seemed to have.

Solution: Three Hots and A Cot?

Sometimes I wish I had comments because I'd really like to ask people out there: How bad is woman's prison? I realize prison varies dramatically. I've never seen those B movies about women in prison but to judge from them prison is not a pleasant experience--particularly for the weak and lilly-livered of whom I am one. Still, it couldn't be as bad as men's prison. Maybe it merely smells like pee? Maybe you only don't get to take long showers? Maybe the water's cold and the rooms have bad ventilation?

I'd do that--I could do pee smell, I could do bad food, I could do incarceration (do they give you a window--I really need a window). I could sit, I could read, people would leave me alone. Nothing would be expected of me. There wouldn't be further down to go...Isn't that the most ridiculous problem about having things work out pretty good (for the time being)? It seems like there is too much further down to go...

Prison! It sounds so good to me. I could read, I could write, I could think, no junk mail, no phone to interrupt me on a regular basis. I'd be on a schedule...I'd have to get up early, go to bed early. Solitary confinement--that sounds so good (as long as they give you a window...I'm pretty sure they don't. If they did they wouldn't call it 'the hole.')

Really, I think I was destined for monastic life but it's lost the isolation factor in this modern age.

Moreover, think of the material it would give me--I could write an expose, poetry, novels. Of course, it wouldn't be that cool kind of 'outsider' stuff because my level of education already prevents the admiration of those soft bourgeois folks who want to be 'street.'

But still...Wasn't Papillon such a great movie? I first saw it when I was so young--about 5 years old. It may have been one of the first movies I ever saw. (I never could figure out how the nuns could turn him in.) I could do the whole Papillon Devil's Island thing. I could eat bugs. I'd rather do a minimum security thing with art classes and such but if push came to shove--if it meant escaping from the demands of freedom--hey, I'm there.

I've been trying to think of what sort of crime I could commit. Isn't it funny that I crave incarceration and yet am queasy about law-breaking. I can do the time but I can't do the crime.


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