Onward and onward,
And onward I go...
Where no man before me
Could be bothered to go
Til the soles of my shoes are shot full of holes
And it's all downhill with a bullet...

I must be the only sick fuck to enjoy "Do You Love Me? (part 2)" a whole lot more than part 1... Perhaps, right now, it is the newness of the song (I've heard almost every other track on Let Love In before) that makes me want to listen to it over and over, that makes me adore it so much... but at the same time, there's something so much more... dark, terribly enjoyable...

The theater ceiling is silver-star spangled
And the coins in my pockets go jingle-jangle

And maybe, too, it fits my mood. Not that I have a mood based on a pedophilic encounter in a theater. But you know how some nights, you feel--illogical, especially on a college campus, especially with a sleeping roommate near--as if you're the only one alive. And the dark songs speak to you then.

There's a groan, there's a cough, there's a rustle of cloth
And a voice that stinks of death and vanilla
This is a secret, mauled and mangled
And the coins in my pocket go jingle-jangle...

There's also this: a whole conflict of what I'm doing with my life. It's brought on by little things--this time by a quandry on if I take chem or creative writing. But it seems I shouldn't get so ahead of myself. Life doesn't end at 25, it doesn't end at 30, it doesn't end until your last drunken brawl. I guess in a way, taking chemistry represents getting things out of the way, taking creative writing represents wanting to impress others? It's difficult to describe.

Most people don't take creative til sophomore year here, anyway. So, perhaps, I needn't get that impression that I somehow need to get my "foot in the door." Someday those div. 1 credits need to be met. Someday, we need to meet our science dues. And--after all, I've probably forgot enough of it all, all those NMR valleys and all those orbitals. I may as well get it done. And I need to grow up, still. Perhaps, come next fall, I shan't be so married to my work. Let's remember this. Let's always keep this in mind: there's 6 more semesters yet, we can hope for the best. And I can always go on for five years.

I've never been one for heavy commitment...

The walls of the ceiling are painted in blood
The lights go down, the red curtains come apart,
The room is full of smoke and
Dialogue I know by heart

And after college? And majors? These things will come later. I've always lived more in the now, I guess--perhaps that is good, perhaps not. I have no clue what I'll major in.

Perhaps it's not too important. I've always admired those who drop their commitments and live in a squalid flat, anyway. Shuck it all, it'll come to you eventually. Whatever it is.

Perhaps it isn't good I deal with life one event at a time. But I'm a lot less stressed than others. And maybe, some day, I'll have enough to own for. I'm not working towards a big event, but maybe that's for the best--in case the big event is never met.

The clock of my boyhood was wound down and stopped
And my handsome lithe body oddly propped
And my trousers right down to my ankles
Yes it's onward! and upward! And I'm off to find love
Do you love me? If you do, I'm thankful.

I lied. I have something I'm looking forward to, a dream, let's say. And it's this: to publish something. To find at least one true thing, and show it to someone on the other side of a printed page. Not to answer the problem, but to state it, truthfully--that's what is said, anyway.

Pardon me if my entries become progressively more esoteric. Eventually I'll hate myself for it, and swing to Bukowskian brutal clarity once more. For now, I'm working around saying the truth. For now, I'm still waiting until I find a truth to discover. Or at least bring back.

Memories that become montrous lies
So onward, and onward, and onward I go
So onward, and upward, and I'm off to find love
With blue-black bracelets on my wrists and my ankles
And the coins in my pockets go jingle-jangle.

Perhaps this was all an excuse to type lyrics. But for now, I am merely going onward and onward. And I am off to find love, in some form--although I've never been terribly successful on it.

Do you love me?