three in the morning productions

dusk

I have bug bites the size of golf balls all over my legs. Which is why I don't like to do the carwash. Carwash girl, talkin' bout the carwash--sing it with feelin' ya'll. Hah, that's the kind of person I am--I sporadically break into musical interludes and it ~bugs~ the mess out of my friends.

This week started off weird. I was late this morning but because of unhappy circumstances, I slipped into a teacherless class and avoided being marked tardy. As I dashed through the the halls, I was moving toward a stream of students that looked like a mourning procession. Because it was. A prayer had been held at the courtyard for a student who suffered a seizure in school Friday and had later died. I didn't know him. But when the principal came on the intercom and spoke an elegy to the effect of "He's gone, but he will live on forever in our memories" all that came to my mind was: "No he won't."

People die every day, people mourn for the loss, and then they move on. And they forget. That's how people are.

That's why I could jump off a building, and owe no guilt to those who might feel some heart pangs over me--beside for the obvious reason that I'm dead, but also because I'll eventually become nothing more than a fleeting memory to them, if anything at all-- a faded vignette boxed in the boundless vault of eternity.

I'm talking angst. Christ, I don't wanna get angsty. And it's not yet even winter.

Homework, essays and test-crunching among other mindless nothings and I should be fine. Swear. Scout's honor.

(It makes no difference if I was in the scouts or not)

09.30.02 - 8:06 p.m.

	dusk I have bug bites the size of golf balls all over my legs. Which is why I don't like to do the carwash. Carwash girl, talkin' bout the carwash--sing it with feelin' ya'll. Hah, that's the kind of person I am--I sporadically break into musical interludes and it ~bugs~ the mess out of my friends. This week started off weird. I was late this morning but because of unhappy circumstances, I slipped into a teacherless class and avoided being marked tardy. As I dashed through the the halls, I was moving toward a stream of students that looked like a mourning procession. Because it was. A prayer had been held at the courtyard for a student who suffered a seizure in school Friday and had later died. I didn't know him. But when the principal came on the intercom and spoke an elegy to the effect of "He's gone, but he will live on forever in our memories" all that came to my mind was: "No he won't." People die every day, people mourn for the loss, and then they move on. And they forget. That's how people are. That's why I could jump off a building, and owe no guilt to those who might feel some heart pangs over me--beside for the obvious reason that I'm dead, but also because I'll eventually become nothing more than a fleeting memory to them, if anything at all-- a faded vignette boxed in the boundless vault of eternity. I'm talking angst. Christ, I don't wanna get angsty. And it's not yet even winter. Homework, essays and test-crunching among other mindless nothings and I should be fine. Swear. Scout's honor. (It makes no difference if I was in the scouts or not) 09.30.02 - 8:06 p.m.