Saturday, March 19, 1994

March 19, 1994

Dear Journal,
Kurt Cobain shot himself yesterday. i can't write anymore because he was on e of my hero's and now I want it all to be gone.

My dad told me. I think he had been crying.

Friday, March 18, 1994

March 18, 1994

Dear Journal,
Hello how are you? Stupidest line in the world I know.
Well I'm bored as hell and I have only 2 days till school. I'm glad because I miss Doug so much I could puke. I mean it. I wish we were at least friends. I guess I could ask him out but thats so stupid because I'm too much of a geek or whatever the fuck you want to call me. I really have nothing to say tonight so I'm gonna just keep babbling until this page is filled hopefully it will be filled when I'm done saying this. Well maybe not but who cares because I'm gonna go anyway. So Goodbye. See ya soon.

Ya know what's funny. I still remember little things. Like Doug chose Clockwork Orange as the book he read for a project in English (I chose One Flew Over the Cuckoo's nest). I rented the movie and became obsessed with it for a long time. I associated it with him...which is kind of creepy now that I think about it. I remember wondering what his opinions on the rape scene's were because they really bothered me and I didn't understand why at the time. I thought it was just the nudity that was bothering me.
I also remember his favorite poem was "Snake" by D.H. Lawrence. I pretty much peed my pants when I found out he had a favorite poem. It didn't really matter what it was about. He had a favorite, which meant he somewhat paid attention to poetry.

D. H. Lawrence


A snake came to my water-trough
On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat,
To drink there.

In the deep, strange-scented shade of the great dark carob-tree
I came down the steps with my pitcher
And must wait, must stand and wait, for there he was at the trough before

He reached down from a fissure in the earth-wall in the gloom
And trailed his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down, over the edge of
the stone trough
And rested his throat upon the stone bottom,
i o And where the water had dripped from the tap, in a small clearness,
He sipped with his straight mouth,
Softly drank through his straight gums, into his slack long body,

Someone was before me at my water-trough,
And I, like a second comer, waiting.

He lifted his head from his drinking, as cattle do,
And looked at me vaguely, as drinking cattle do,
And flickered his two-forked tongue from his lips, and mused a moment,
And stooped and drank a little more,
Being earth-brown, earth-golden from the burning bowels of the earth
On the day of Sicilian July, with Etna smoking.
The voice of my education said to me
He must be killed,
For in Sicily the black, black snakes are innocent, the gold are venomous.

And voices in me said, If you were a man
You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off.

But must I confess how I liked him,
How glad I was he had come like a guest in quiet, to drink at my water-trough
And depart peaceful, pacified, and thankless,
Into the burning bowels of this earth?

Was it cowardice, that I dared not kill him? Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him? Was it humility, to feel so honoured?
I felt so honoured.

And yet those voices:
If you were not afraid, you would kill him!

And truly I was afraid, I was most afraid, But even so, honoured still more
That he should seek my hospitality
From out the dark door of the secret earth.

He drank enough
And lifted his head, dreamily, as one who has drunken,
And flickered his tongue like a forked night on the air, so black,
Seeming to lick his lips,
And looked around like a god, unseeing, into the air,
And slowly turned his head,
And slowly, very slowly, as if thrice adream,
Proceeded to draw his slow length curving round
And climb again the broken bank of my wall-face.

And as he put his head into that dreadful hole,
And as he slowly drew up, snake-easing his shoulders, and entered farther,
A sort of horror, a sort of protest against his withdrawing into that horrid black hole,
Deliberately going into the blackness, and slowly drawing himself after,
Overcame me now his back was turned.

I looked round, I put down my pitcher,
I picked up a clumsy log
And threw it at the water-trough with a clatter.

I think it did not hit him,
But suddenly that part of him that was left behind convulsed in undignified haste.
Writhed like lightning, and was gone
Into the black hole, the earth-lipped fissure in the wall-front,
At which, in the intense still noon, I stared with fascination.

And immediately I regretted it.
I thought how paltry, how vulgar, what a mean act!
I despised myself and the voices of my accursed human education.

And I thought of the albatross
And I wished he would come back, my snake.

For he seemed to me again like a king,
Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld,
Now due to be crowned again.

And so, I missed my chance with one of the lords
Of life.
And I have something to expiate:
A pettiness.

Taormina, 1923

Sunday, March 13, 1994

March 13, 1994

Dear Journal,
Hello its March break and on the last day of school Doug did two things and I don't know if they were from hate or love. The first was in math. I was copying questions from the board and he was getting help from the teacher and he stood right in my way and smiled. He wouldn't move. I don't know if it meant "Fuck Off" or "Look at me I love you". All I know is I came home at lunch and cried.
The second thing was when we were doing Julius Caesar he stabbed me when he wasn't supposed to. I don't know if it meant he hates me or he wanted to flirt wtih me.
Anyway I've had a pretty boring March break so far and I still have a week to go. Someone called for me 2 times it was a guy. The first time I hung up because I was scared because he didn't say his name. The second time Jesse told him I wasn't home. I have to know who it is because it really gets to me. I 'm really tired and I want to go to sleep but I have to finish this page. I really want to be Dougs girl. I want him to be my guy. It really pisses me off that I'm too wimpy to do anything about it.
I guess I'll go for tonight but I'll see you when I have more to say.

I just can't think of anything to say here so I will just shake my head. Stupid Girl.

Tuesday, March 8, 1994

March 8, 1994

Dear Journal,
Hello it's late and I'm tired. I love Doug. I miss Doug and in school today I just wanted to love him. Wait i mean I just wanted him to love me. I only have 2 days left then I won't see him for a week and a half. I'm too tired and I just want to dream.
I remember what's coming next. Julius Caesar!

Monday, March 7, 1994

March 7, 1994

Dear Journal,
I haven't written in a while I know but I've just been a complete mess. My life has been a complete mess and Doug doesn't love me and I think he is going out with Jill.
I want to be shot it hurts so much to love and not be loved.
Kurt Cobain of Nirvana is in a Coma. He was taking medicine for a flu an dhe drank liquor and they don't mix.
I need Doug. Everyday I think of him and wonder. I wonder a lot of things. It's killing me.
"Bleed in your own light, dream of your own life, and on and on, I touch my soul, I shall be free"
Well life sucks because I've done everything thats legal and moral and I have nothing left to live for except Doug S.
I'm gonna go because I'm tired of writing nothing.
"The killer in me is the killer in you"
Oh I remember this day well. She came to visit him. I think it was in typing class. That's how I found out. I even remember what she was wearing. One of those long hippy skirts and a shirt to match. *sigh* Poor me.