liz has never seen this journal before. she’s here now: she and ilana are splayed out on my bed, inaugurating my new real-space notebook w/ doodles. the l.a. confidential soundtrack is keeping us company. i have lovely memories associated w/ this cd.
“i need a jazz musician to just follow me around all day”
— liz
i love my friends. last nite, after a day in great falls and hanging out w/ johnny and tamar (and an aborted attempt to see godfather I + II), annie ilana ari jamie and i ended up in annie’s hottub. i nearly died. (extreme pleasure w/ me is always mentally associated w/ pain … oh dear ….) it was that awesome. then annie got out and played us folky songs on her acoustic guitar. that’s always been a dream of mine, and since she has 1) hot tub, 2) guitar, and 3) a scanner (yes! finally! pictures for my webpage!) i put my hand on her thigh like one of the old men in the bible and solemnly swore that she was my new best friend.
then jamie and ilana slept over at my house — yay floor –; then brunch; then chilling and time wastage; then becca came over, brimming w/ stories about her crazy weekend. tonite i met up w/ liz and ilana and we watched requiem for a dream and baked fat-free “no pudge fudge” (just add yogurt!) score, baby. depressing movies always make me think about the state of things. in this case, i came down w/ a sudden, unpleasant attack of self-doubt. all my old questions re: the net surfaced: isn’t it just self-indulgent? isn’t all art? shouldn’t we all be doing productive things instead of coddling our precious emotions and desires to express ourselves?
ilana says, what’s wrong w/ being self-indulgent?
i don’t have an answer for that.
they talk me out of it. i’m not really interested in being seriously depressed so the mood is easy-ish to shake off. but these are real questions and i don’t have answers yet.