A Hunger that Never Dies

The ornate brown and gold book has slicker pages than other notebooks I own, so the ink flowed more swiftly. Occasionally it would fly off the pages, and go places I regretted.

  • Is today that day I forgive the world?
  • Create an image with words instead of creating an image with suffering.
  • For me, the maxim is: If you can’t say something intelligent, don’t say anything at all.
  • Today my mind is buried deep inside my feelings.
  • I deny ever having been me.
  • Whisper my name. I call yours and you do not answer.
  • I would take humanity, the whole world, tenderly in my arms before I destroy it.
  • I am sorry for the awkward way I loved you. For years you filled up my heart. (You know who you are, even if you don’t know it’s you.)
  • I was once close to her. Now I am only close to this moment.
  • Sometimes I feel like I need my anger the way I need my next breath.
  • I cannot make sense of my dreams, even though they make perfect sense.
  • Who am I? Funny question, since I ask as though finding the answer would make a difference.
  • Even after she left me, she said she would never leave me. (about K, 1988.)
  • Sometimes I am like insect repellent, which is okay, since sometimes people are like insects.
  • Staring at myself in the mirror for a long time, I slowly seem to see someone else.
  • Ignorance is abyss.
  • You can’t look at something without changing it.
  • It’s impossible to hope for a moral society when 97% of the participants willingly murder their fellow mammals for pleasure.
  • You mostly want what you want because someone a little smarter and a lot richer told you to want it.
  • Get down behind me and kiss my path.
  • Who are you anyway, you humanity? Your grand plan is to consume and procreate, like flies. You add to that a culture of suffering and atrocities, and act like you are God’s gift to the earth.
  • Crying: never enough, always too much.
  • The darkest place on earth.
  • How can you see me as “sweet” when sometimes I can barely see myself as sane?
  • In this moment, I understand your denial. How else could you bear your existence?
  • “I think I hear the answer, but it is only the wind and the dark and the vast emptiness.” -Journal, 1979
  • The fork in the road: dreams or mirrors.
  • The last foxhole atheist.
  • Infidelity: the object for some is getting caught, because it punishes their partner for being such a disappointment.
  • I leave dark scars on your life.
  • Story idea: held in my hands, trembling, insane words written in my own handwriting, that I don’t remember writing.
  • The work of love’s axe on the frozen sea.
  • I am a totally superior person and a completely inferior man.
  • During a particularly dark vision, I stand up and walk around the room, but am unable to escape myself. As dark as it was in 1978, 1985, 1988, I think maybe it is darkest now, this moment, this vanishing point.
  • These bones are wearing out. Would you pay to live forever, or would you eventually pay to die?
  • Bomb me into the fucking stone age.
  • I never knew how to let her go. It doesn’t matter if she let me go or not: she’s gone.
  • Wallowing in the muddy sludge you get when you mix broken dreams with alcohol.
  • “Maybe I’m boring and don’t know it. How terrifying.” -Journal, 1980.
  • I want her to come home. That day will never come.
  • It’s not a sore spot. It’s a dark spot. It’s less about losing her, and more about going back to that lonely place.
  • …that darkest part of me, the cold, hungry, injured animal part of me, understands the terrorist, the murderer, the despot.
  • I feel fragile, like old yellow paper.
  • Nobody is as lonely as I am. Not even me.
  • How can women love men who spit in public, but not love me?
  • Just what I need: another black-souled woman for my collection.
  • My wildest sin is dreaming. My worst mistake was caring.
  • Real men don’t let bumper stickers think for them.
  • How could I have held their hands, and let them go? Your hands.
  • I love like a woman, but I hate like a wild animal.
  • What do I want? I want to keep you warm.
  • I’d rather live a dramatic life, as long as it’s good drama.
  • Tears are an admission.
  • When asked for one word to describe me, Whitney was split between “intense” and “passionate.”
  • STOP! In large crowds, I find myself calculating how many cluster bombs it would take to kill them all. I have to stop that.

Thus the end. In many ways, I am relieved.

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