Im in New York. No Roman this time. He is gone forever, I think, or at least for the time being, until my self control decides to dissapate into nothing like it ususally does. I miss him, and I hate myself for it. He is very very much illigal. I think thats why I want him so badly. *sigh*

I went to the Staind concert with the Jew School children on Valentines day. I almost wish I hadnt, but it was somewhat fun. We went to Lowell to this house where everything was trapped in the 70's kindof like a vortex of time, like a twilight zone episode. We slept in a furbished barn with little trap doors that we couldnt see, and a two way mirror (or so we thought). They were all on the south beach diet, so for dinner, we had meat. Wrapped in meat. Just imagine that for a second. meat wrapped in meat.

gahhhhh

The concert itself was fun. It was somewhat moshfull, but Moishe went cround surfing. Regretedly, thought, I missed that, for I was throwing up a weekends worth of minchy food into the tsongas arena restroom facility. Also, when standing outside the bathroom, I was approached as a prostitute. That, to say the least, didnt make me the happiest of people. I gues it wasnt so strange of him, becuase I was wearing my vinyl dress, but still. It was not a happy time. But Staind was amazing live. It was joyfull.

I have decided that it is time to stop being a total relashonship lepur. I have maneged to fuck every single relashonship up that I have had since.....I dont know....forever. I dont know what it is, but something inside me says "go do everything you can to sabatouge something that is good becuase I am a fuckup. A self destructive fuckup." I find my self, sometimes, wanting someone to hold. Wanting someone to hold me, and to mean it. Then I cringe inside. And then I want it more.

Then, at other times, I'll want to do whatever I can to just party. Party as much as I can and not care about whos feelings get hurt, (including my own). I dont know whats wrong with me. I just need someone who can set me straight, who can show me that Im capable of doing that whole relashonship thing without blowing it all to hell. But the question is....

"Am I really capable of that?"

Help. I need the relashonship fairy. Kindof like the tooth fairy. Only its The tooth fairy after she moved to the city, took up heroin, reilized she was broke and that her acting career was shot to shit and became a crackwhore. Thats what I need.

As for the jew school, I got my report card back yesterday, and my mother saw it fit to call me in NY and bitch. She told me I wasnt trying hard enough, she told me I had more potential, blah fucking blah. No one cares, Lisa. I told her that if she got me out of the facist environment that jew shcool is, then I would do better. She was unhappy at that one. So she is quite upset. If I dont update for awile, its becuase Lisa has taken the computor.

In other news, a random Jew school kid named Ari Shriber is a fuckbean. I hate him. Nate and Eldad were playing poker during one of our 10,000 frees, and he comes over. Eldad asks if I want to play, and I said I didnt have any money. Eldad asks if I want to bargin with sexual favoras, that i could be worth 100 bucks (as a joke). Ari shriber, a.k.a assrammer extrodianre says "No, she isnt worth 100. She isnt worth 5. she would have to pay me to fuck her. Even then I wouldnt do it. Shes probably STD city"

I was a little upset by that. I threw random insultsat him, finishing it all of by telling him to shove a tampon up his obviously menustral pussy becuase his PMS was making everyone aggrivated.What pissed me off even more is the fact that he didnt understand why I was upset. What a fuckup.  Anyhow, I dont need people like him telling me what Im worth, or calling me a whore. He's gunna suck at life anyhow. :) 

Well, I must be off. Time to wander aimlessly in the city.

g'night

I'd imagine your walls would be white

sterile and untouched

devoid of the impurities that come with the dirty wanderings of fingertips

reminiscent of a thirteen year old virgin

who has yet to see the back of a banged up station wagon

(please dont touch me there)

Suspended with a restless pulse

hanging by shaky strings of broken telephone connections and thick Boston accents

above questions of my own sanity

as I await the fate of yours.

Being told to place

(lovefearhateloathingdepressionagitationcuriosityneedexasperationbreathlessnessdesire)

on the shelf in my closet with my discarded barbie dolls and common sence

as unanswered questions float sickeningly to the surface

and they skim the top and pour it into their instant coffee.

*lana*

I have three pills in my hand.

He came here becuase I called him and he gave me three small pills.

He told me that if I took them, I could forget all of that and be beautiful again.

He said that he wished he could see me more often.

He said that he wished I would come back to the scene.

He said I was better off mixed up in what I was mixed up in when he knew me well then what I'm mixed up in these days.

And he said he had to go.

And he drove off into the night from which he came.

And I sat inside amongst my brothers and watched Pulp Fiction amongst my brothers as if he had never visited the backdoor of my house.

And now I sit, my brothers fast asleep and my mind absolutly exhausted and begging me for mercy.

And now I wonder if...maybe...just for a little while...I could forget it all...if only for a second...

I still have three pills in my hand.

Should I?

Do I dare?

I feel like an eery glaze of calm has come to coat over a writhing pile of emotions and thoughts in my head.

I feel like I'm looking down on my dead body from the ceiling of my living room and shaking my head in disgust.

But enough of what I'm feeling....wasnt it all about being numb in the first place?

*lana*

As for the current situation...

I have nothing more to say.

I found a poem today.

Its posted on the wall of a friend of mine's room.

Its not particularly good...but..

It made a chill run down my spine as I pictured Emmit Till laying still at his open casket funeral, his face quite like play-doe and melting all over the place.

I saw that documentary in sixth grade, and that night, I came home from school and  I couldnt sleep at all. I couldnt beleive it was real, that someone would do this to someone else simply becuase some kind of predetermined social boundry spawned and nursed on pure hatred and bigotry had been mistranslated when some kid crossed state boarder. Sure, I knew alot for my age, but I was still...am still...quite nieve. So of course, late that night, I took it upon myself to find as many pictures of this event as I possibly could. Each picture of his deformed, twisted face scared me more then the one that came before it, but still I continued.

That might have been one of the eeriest nights of my entire life.

So....that poem I was talking about...

I hear a whistling
Through the water.
Little Emmett
Won't be still.
He keeps floating
Round the darkness,
Edging through
The silent chill.
Tell me, please,
That bedtime story
Of the fairy
River Boy
Who swims forever,
Deep in treasures,
Necklaced in
A coral toy.

--James A. Emanuel, "Emmet Till"

*lana*

Flip

the switch

clenching muscles

grab out with little warning

searching for

a place to grip

or a shoulder to cry on.

Press

the red button

circut boards betray like rouge agents in a feild of purple hearts

out of reach and falling hopelessly into dissaray

watching from behind the plexiglass

as the flames

from that same control tower

that had made such a fuss of itself by

exploding

illuminates the night sky

like Christmas lights in July

or a rave in Hiroshima

*lana*

And once again, I've been stupid. Oh, you stupid, stupid girl...

But its all going to be put behind me now, becuase I saw him yesterday and remembered what it was like to feel fine.

And I'm fine...and I'm fine...and I'm fine.

Today would be Rosh Hashana...Jewish New Year. This is the day on which one is supposed to reflect on the year passed, and beg for redemption for all of your sins. Now where, pray tell, could I even start?

Redemption is a frightning concept. It seems limited, restricted only to boys and girls who are willing to buckle down and commit themselves to being good, as apposed to...

well......

I'm drunk.

fuck it.

druuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunk as a motherfucking skunk....and y that io mean a marsupial that fucks your mother....

never ever seen tyhe norther nights...

never ever seent he tarts so brght

never ever seen thge

oh fck it.

*lana*

Now that I look back on it, I suppose updating while becoming increasingly intoixated over the course of an evening may not have been the wisest course of action. Going near the computor at all seemed to be a mistake, as I managed to offend a great number of people with shameless sexual advances and slurred political veiws that I imposed on them mercilessly.

In the words of my good friend Rusty and his away message: "Drunk people shouldnt be allowed anywhere near technolodgy."

All well, right? No regrets? Thats my new course of action by the way. To attempt a life without regrets. I know I've always said I'd try it, but it always seems to get fucked up somehow. Well, failed attempts are no longer going to be sufficent for me. I'm actually going to do it...becuase to tell you the truth, regrets are heavy on my mind, each one a ten pound slab of marble and weighing down my skull.

Yeah.....We'll see how long that lasts. I'll be back to sniveling "What if I had-" "What if I had'nt-"s in a week.

Its difficult to take myself seriously when I know that I cant finish a single fucking thing properly and be done with it.

Well then.

In other news, today I awoke to the rain and reilized that I had to go out and enjoy it. It hasnt rained properly around here in a long while. So I slipped down my stairs in the early hours of this morning, ran out my back door and just stood in the rain, dancing to the music in my mind, my little white t-shirt I had slept in soaked through and completely see through.

It was probably the most liberating thing I'd done in a long while.

I must have looked quite mad.

In yet another peice of news, I miss sex. There hasnt been very much of that at all lately, and there isnt anyone to blame, either, which makes any situation hundreds of times worse. There just isnt anywhere to do it.Its not like either of out houses are ever empty, as I was so accustomed to in the past with people whos parents were either never home or not even there in the first place. Its so frustrating! Every time I see him, it comes to mind, and every time I see him, I know I just have to deal with it and restrain myself.

And we all know that self restraint isnt exactly my thing.

Well, I'm sure it'll....I dont know...work itself out somehow.

*shoots the hopeless optimist*

*lana*

Prior Walter : This disease will be the end of many of us, but not nearly all. And the dead will be commemorated, and we'll struggle on with the living, and we are not going away. We won't die secret deaths anymore. The world only spins forward. We will be citizens. The time has come.

Harper Pitt : In my church we don't believe in homosexuals.
Prior : In my church we don't believe in Mormons.

Roy Cohn : AIDS. Homosexual. Gay. Lesbian. You think these are names that tell you who a person sleeps with, but they don't tell you that.
Henry : No?
Roy Cohn : No. Like all labels they tell you one thing, and one thing only: Where does an individual so identified fit into the food chain, the pecking order? Not ideology or sexual taste, but something much simpler: clout. Not who I fuck or who fucks me, but who will come to the phone when I call, who owes me favors. This is what a label refers to. Now to someone who does not understand this, a homosexual is what I am because I have sex with men, but really this is wrong. A homosexual is somebody who, in 15 years of trying cannot get a pissant anit-discrimination bill through the city council. A homosexual is somebody who knows nobody and who nobody knows. Who has zero clout. Does this sound like me Henry? I have sex with men. But unlike nearly every other man of whom this is true, I bring the guy I'm screwing to the White House and President Reagan smiles at us and shakes his hand.

Roy Cohn : [under the impression that Belize is the Angel of Death] Let me ask you something, sir.
Belize : [going along with it] "Sir"?
Roy Cohn : What's it like? After?
Belize : After...?
Roy Cohn : This misery ends?
Belize : Hell or heaven?
[Roy indicates "Heaven" through a glance]
Belize : Like San Francisco.
Roy Cohn : A city. Good. I was worried... it'd be a garden. I hate that shit.
Belize : Mmmm. Big city. Overgrown with weeds, but flowering weeds. On every corner a wrecking crew and something new and crooked going up catty corner to that. Windows missing in every edifice like broken teeth, fierce gusts of gritty wind, and a gray high sky full of ravens.
Roy Cohn : Isaiah.
Belize : Prophet birds, Roy. Piles of trash, but lapidary like rubies and obsidian, and diamond-colored cowspit streamers in the wind. And voting booths.
Roy Cohn : And a dragon atop a golden horde.
Belize : And everyone in Balencia gowns with red corsages, and big dance palaces full of music and lights and racial impurity and gender confusion. And all the deities are creole, mulatto, brown as the mouths of rivers. Race, taste and history finally overcome. And you ain't there.
Roy Cohn : And Heaven?
Belize : That was Heaven, Roy.
Roy: The fuck it was.

Belize : I hate America. I hate this country. Nothing but ideas and stories and people dying. The white cracker who wrote the National Anthem knew what he was doing. He set the word free on a note so high no one could reach it. That was deliberate.

Prior Walter : That ludicrous spectacle in there. Just a parody of the funeral of someone who really counted. We don't. Faggots. We're just a bad dream the real world is having. And the real world's waking up

[Ethel Rosenberg walks into the room]
Roy Cohn : Aw fuck. Ethel.
Ethel Rosenberg : You don't look good, Roy.
Roy Cohn : Well, Ethel. I don't feel good.
Ethel Rosenberg : But you lost a lot of weight. That suits you. You were heavy back then. Zaftig, mit hips.
Roy Cohn : I haven't been that heavy since 1960. We were all heavier back then, before the body thing started. Now I look like a skeleton. They stare.
Ethel Rosenberg : The shit's really hit the fan, huh, Roy? Well the fun's just started.
Roy Cohn : What is this Ethel, Halloween? You trying to scare me? Well you're wasting your time! I'm scarier than you any day of the week! So beat it, Ethel! Boo! Better dead than red! Somebody trying to shake me up? HAH HAH! From the throne of God in heaven to the belly of hell, you can all fuck yourselves and then go jump in the lake because I'm not afraid of you or death or hell or anything!
Ethel Rosenberg : Be seeing you soon, Roy. Julius sends his regards.
Roy Cohn : Yeah, well send this to Julius!
[Roy flips her the bird]
Ethel Rosenberg : You're a very sick man, Roy.
Roy Cohn : I have all the time in the world.
Ethel Rosenberg : You're immortal.
Roy Cohn : I'm immortal. Ethel. I have forced my way into history. I ain't never gonna die.
Ethel Rosenberg : History is about to crack wide open. Millenium approaches.

Hannah Pitt : [confused] Is that The Bronx? How in the name of Heaven did I get to The Bronx? When that drive...
Homeless Woman: -slurp... slurp... will you stop that disgusting slurping, you disgusting slurping animal, feeding yourself. What would it matter to yourself or anyone if you just stop feeding and DIED!
Hannah Pitt : Can you just tell me...
Homeless Woman: Why was the Koziuscko Bridge named after a Po-lack?
Hanna: I don't know what you're talking ab...
Homeless Woman: It was a joke.
Hanna: Well what's the punch line?
Homeless Woman: I don't know.
Hanna: Oh for Petes' sake!
[to the street]
Hanna: Is there anyone who can tell me...
Homeless Woman: [yelling to no one in particular] Stand further off you fat loathsome whore, you can't have any more of this soup slurp slurp slurp you animal, and I know you'll just go pee it all away and where will you do that behind what bush! It's fucking cold out here and I-
[gulp]
Homeless Woman: ... not right because I'm supposed to live in a tunnel.
[to Hannah]
Homeless Woman: You're not very funny. Have you read the propecies of Nostradomus?
Hannah Pitt : Who?
Homeless Woman: Some guy I once went out with somewhere. Nostradomus... prophet... outcast... eyes like scary shit, he would...
Hannah Pitt : Shut up! Please stop jabbering for one minute and pull your wits together and tell me how to get to Brooklyn, because you know and you're going to tell me because there is no one else around to tell me and I'm cold and I'm wet and I'm very, very angry. So I'm sorry that you're psychotic but just make an effort. Pull yourself together and take a deep breath.
[Homeless Woman stares dumbfounded at Hannah]
Hannah Pitt : Do it!
Homeless Woman: [stuggles to take in a breath]
Hannah Pitt : Good. Now exale.
[blows air out of her mouth]
Homeless Woman: [Tries to mimic Hannah's exhaling with mixed results]
Hannah Pitt : Now tell me how to get to Brooklyn.
Homeless Woman: Hmmm... don't know.
[Hannah slups defeatedly]

Harper Pitt : I dreamed we were there. The plane leapt the tropopause, the safe air, and attained the outer rim, the ozone, which was ragged and torn, patches of it threadbare as old cheesecloth, and that was frightening. But I saw something that only I could see, because of my astonishing ability to see such things: Souls were rising, from the earth far below, souls of the dead, of people who had perished, from famine, from war, from the plague, and they floated up, like skydivers in reverse, limbs all akimbo, wheeling and spinning. And the souls of these departed joined hands, clasped ankles, and formed a web, a great net of souls, and the souls were three-atom oxygen molecules, of the stuff of ozone, and the outer rim absorbed them, and was repaired. Nothing's lost forever. In this world, there's a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we've left behind, and dreaming ahead. At least I think that's so.

Harper Pitt: Imagination can't create anything new, can it? It only recycles bits and pieces from the world and reassembles them into visions. So when we think we've escaped the unbearable ordinariness and, well, untruthfulness of our lives, it's really only the same old ordinariness and falseness rearranged into the appearance of novelty and truth. Nothing unknown is knowable.

Harper: In your experience of the world. How do people change?

Mormon Mother: Well it has something to do with God so it's not very nice. God splits the skin with a jagged thumbnail from throat to belly and then plunges a huge filthy hand in, he grabs hold of your bloody tubes and they slip to evade his grasp but he squeezes hard, he insists, he pulls and pulls till all your innards are yanked out and the pain! We can't even talk about that. And then he stuffs them back, dirty, tangled and torn. It's up to you to do the stitching.

Harper: And then get up. And walk around.

Mormon Mother: Just mangled guts pretending.

Hannah Pitt: No, you'll never be happy. No one's ever happy. Now there was a point in time in my life where dealing with how...well, how dissapointing life is was quite difficult. But..with time, and with many..many years of paitence, there will come a point where all of life and the giant...dissapointment...that it is...will become easier to accept.

I'm sitting here in my living room, at the computor, crying my fucking eyes out and feeling a terrible, gutwrenching feeling of reilization...

I dont know if I know how to handle that just now.....

......It cant be very healthy, now, can it?

Yes...well....in reguards to that last entry...and the subsequent lack of entries following....its been a long, strange week. A week, as my Eitan so adequatly described it, full of existencial crisis. Instead of my usual up down up down up down up down (come on girls, stretch those hamstrings! No pain, no gain!), my emotional roller coaster was basicly just sitting, broken and sad, on the bottom of the track.

I've unboubtedly been lowering the protective forcefield around my mind to keep fucked up thoughts as far away, or as close to the back of my mind as they can possibly be, for quite some time now. Becuase of this idiotic move, thoughts such as "I really cannot think of a reason for my existance on this Earth right now.", and "Why am I still breathing?", and "How can so many people live their lives meaninglessly and then just be forgotten?", and "Every single person I know will be dead in a mere century, and what have we accomplished for it?", and "Well what if the world reilizes what a vastly futile populice it has and decides to self destruct and the sky falls down and the seas come up and everything ceases to be?"

The odd thing is, though, that at this moment, at this little peice of time, I feel absolutly fabulous. Yes, I know I'm manic and yes, I know that my current hapiness is just as long lasting and stable as a quickie in a bathroom with a curious stranger and yes I know that tomorow I'll wake up feeling like the world is coming down on me again, but...but right now, I feel fine. I feel more then fine. I feel elated, light as a feather and ready to float anywhere, balance the forces of nature to my every whim and soar to the window of a certian boy....and what does it matter, anyhow, how I'll feel tomorow? Tomorow is tomorow..(Thank you, Captian Obvious)..but by that I meant that I'm having such a lovely time right here in the present in my beautiful ballroom of a world that I dont need to think about tomorow.

To quote Eitan again, "Welcome to Manicville, sweeite." Oh, trust me, Eitan, the Welcome Wagon's come for me a long, long time ago...

Oh, tonight it a night for dancing, and dance I shall!

*lana*

Is anyone ready for an ass-kicking day of redemption?

Fucking hell, if any of this is true, I am so completely unprepared that I'm apt to giggle a little.

But only a little.

*lana*

Ladies and Gentleman, boys and girls, I'd like to welcome you all once again to.....

*drumroll, please*

MANICVILLE!

I seem to be getting more insane by the second, and oh my fucking lord is it FUN!!!! Sure, I probably wouldnt have been saying that earlier today, but there are alot of things I'm saying right now that I wouldnt have been saying earlier today.

Among them, "I AM VERY FUCKING HAPPY RIGHT NOW."

You see, last night was..well, it was interesting. I kindof had one of those moments where you look at yourself and you say "Jesus fucking Christ I am a nutcase."

I started out all manic and happy and bouncy and whatnot, but...then...something odd happened. When I tried to go to sleep. I had this horrible, overwhelming feeling that there was beyond a shadow of a doubt a monster under my bed, or a killer outside my door, a man with a knife. 

Eventually, I convinced myself that this was absurd, that there was no way it could be real, that I'm just being me and by that I mean an increadibly stupid and irrational little girl. So I lay myhead down, and all of a sudden, a loud fucking bang makes me scream and I start crying and shaking and knowing that certian doom is upon me and I pulled the covers far, far over my head and hid and shook and cried and was very much insane.

I then proceeded to promptly pass out.

But...that was yesterday. And yesterday is yesteray becuase, well, becuase its over and you no longer really have to deal with it. And thats the best part of yesterday. TODAY,  I started out the day in an indiffrent mood, which quickly switched to an absolutly miserable mood, which then quickly switched to an aMaZiNg mood, the mood which, if for some reason you couldnt tell, I am currently in.

But theres one thing I know for sure, and that is...that....I AM MADLY AND UNCONTROLLABLY IN LOVE WITH EITAN MOTHERFUCKING C!

And on that note, I've decided that I'm twelve again and giggling at my infatuation with the boy next door.

Additionally, I've decided that not only do I not care, but it feels very fucking good and natural and very few things seem natural to me these days.

Oh, and tonight I will watch the end of Angels in America. And I will not burst out in hysterical tears, and I will not cry, becuase I will not be a stupid girl and I will learn to deal with it.

I swear.

See?

*lana*

So I was completely emotionally unprepared for that. So it sent me into another one of those violently lovely little whirlwinds of existencial crisis, having very recently defeted its predescesor. So I knew must have secretly known this would happen....

But dont you fucking dare tell me that you told me so.

I had quite a psychotic day today. Fine, I tried to dismiss it as the price one pays for pushing the boundries of ones tolerence for emotional anguish, and trust me, I tried hard, but it was to no avail. It still hurt like no ones fucking buisness.

Among the highlights of todays little happenings were streaming tears in *Bible* class, thinking I was suffocating in a hallway, and telling my chemistry teacher that I was completely apathetic towards her subject because not only will it never occur in any kind of..well, anything that I might encounter later in life, but the appocylipse was coming and what good would chemistry formula be when the sky fell down?

(I knew becuase of the hurricanes)

I informed her that she should spend less time teaching people things that they wont remember in a year, hell, in a week, and more time repenting because the end was nigh.

*She was not pleased*

Tomorow I'm going to see Eitan.

And tomorow I'l be happy.

or tomorrow will be an adamant dissapointment.

But its tomorow for a reason, isnt it?

-fuck, there seems to be a recurring theme in this blog of mine-

*lana*

Today was nothing, and yet, today was everything. Nothing especially interesting or amazingly out of the pordinary happened. We stayed at his house, making paper chains for his family's holiday and talking with his sister and sneaking in kisses anywhere we could.

There was no sex, and yet it was a completly erotic experience...Well, not so erotic as much as *wonderful*, but the two are kindof cojoined in my mind...

Fine, I was a little stoned...

(note to self: refrain from reunions with old friends that involve smoking anything whatsoever before walking around a neighborhood not so familiar to you and trying to find a streetcorner that ISNT FUCKING THERE)

...but the tension, the desire, the need to just be as close as we could, to just be together was overwhelming.

*f*u*c*k*

(and I used to want to poke out every starry eye..do I still?)

*lana*

I got through watching the first debate. I feel a whole mess of emotions currently, but predominent among them is nausea.

Nausea at the fact that one of these fuckups is going to be running our *country* come election day, and there isnt a damn thing we can do to stop it.

Did anyone else see the look on Bush's face, that confused, vaugly dirty looking look?

Thats the "Bush is getting his member sucked on by none other then his favorite Capitolist Crony, Mr. Dick!" look. And they said he was against gay marrige...but no one ever said a thing about friendly fellatio here and there.

Then again, would he be whoring himself out to 'Ol Dubya if Mrs. Cheney wasnt so busy all the time on those "weekend getaways" with Condelezza Rice?

Ugh...I feel like perhaps its due time for some intellegent commentary on what I thought about either *candidate's* <and I use that term very fucking loosely> arguments and statements and points made, but I'm far too disgusted to comment on a thing that was said.

But honestly..were the traffic lights on the podiums *really* all that nescesary?

It kindof looked a little rediculous.

Well, as I said earlier to my good friend Jenya the Wild Ruski, In this world of insanity and rabid indescision, in this dark and neverending abyss of lies and coverups and stupidity and unnescesary death and hatred, take solice in the fact that somewhere, somewhere out there, theres a writhing, oily, wet pile of disgusting decrepid geriatric sex going on between Mr. Head of State and his axis of evil.

Oh wait, never mind. Thats not comforting. Its disgusting.

:)

*lana*

Behold.

http://rosetintmyworld.deviantart.com/

*lana*

The weekend came and went, came and went as weekends do. I did catch the new John Waters film, Dirty Shame, with the Father. It was beautifully insane in that so-sleazy-its-sexy kind of way. Being an NC-17 movie with the main plotline revolving around a woman who hits her head and becomes a raging nymphomaniac, (or being ANY John Waters movie, for that matter), it should have been at least a tad uncomfortable to sit through with my Father.

And if it was uncomfortable, would I be writing this long, drawn out and ultimitly unnnescesary blog entry about it?

Well tomorow holds within its infinite possibilities some positive notions. Eitan's family has invited me for a holiday and I have gratefully accepted. My mother, being my mother, had her predictable qualms, but as I asked her whilst she was in fully feeling the effects of her nightly intoxication session, she agreed with a swish of the hand and an empty minded dismissal.

After spending the night with him, I'll be going to sped the remainder of my long weekend with my Father in New York.

That should be interesting.

And tonight, well, tonight is nothing. Tonight is nothing to me.

*lana*

Today has been difficult.

Today I left school early.

Yesterday I was insane.

Yesterday I couldnt handle myself.

Yesterday he called my parents and told them to make sure I didnt say anything stupid.

Yesterday I thought of....it...again...

Yesterday I cried on the phone.

Today I couldnt handle myself.

Today I was insane.

Today I let myself cry in front of a large group of people.

Today I lost my dignity.

Today, Superman died.

Today I reilized what it must feel like to be a senile old woman wasting away in a nursing home, incapable of stopping the inevitable progression of old age and decomposition.

Today I seriously considered medication, or hospitalization, or both.

Today I did not feel as if I was in control.

I dont think I can do it again tomorow.

*lana*

No, my lack of entrees doesnt mean the appocylypse has finally come and swept me out my window, or some other happening as exciting as that.

It's just been a week.

And as for that last entry, yet another existencial crisis mixed with the progressing pressures of the Jew School left me in a bit of dissaray in the matter of my mental health, but I've decided now that I feel better.

My Eitan has been a tremendously amazing help through all of this...*confusion*..., and for that I extend to him my most intense adoration. He's expressed the concern that perhaps we're using each other as emotional crutches, and for fucks sake, its a valid point.

*this is a vow for change, this is a vow for improvement*

Its so amazing what a romance can bring to you, what having someone who gives a damn makes you feel.

*sigh*

Well, in other more disturbing and increasingly amusing news, the Jew School is once again making me laugh.

Hard.

Apparently, an email has been sent out among the administration and staff about me, stating that I am an "emotionally unstable and unfortunatly unhappy girl", and that they should try their best to "find out the reason for and fix" said unhappiness and emotional instability. I was told this by one of the only teachers who I respect at that fucking infernal institution.

I dont even have to point out the main reasons on why this email is completely innapropriate as well as completely fucked up, but if I was emotionally unstable, which, allright, I might be, its NONE of their fucking buisess!

Also...hmm...perhaps if you would like to find a REASON for my unhappiness stemming from the Jew School, you could look at the fact that...uh...IM FUCKING THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE!

....and now I'm agitated.

And its off to Brookline I go.

*lana*

Perhaps the most frustrating and most agonizing thing a person could ever encounter on this earth was what I spent the majority of last night doing.

Last night, I attempted to try explain to a certian friend of mine why cutting himself was self destructive, a fact which he refused to accept.

I tried calmly to explain to him that purely by the definition of the word, self mutilation is self destructive. I told him that the two were basically synonymous in meaning.

He did not understand, and told me that it was just a little cut, that it didnt even bleed that much.

I tried, slowly losing my emotional grip,  to explain to him that it doesnt matter how small the cut is, or where it is, or how much he bled.  I told him that the problem lay in the fact that he bled at all.

Still, he did not understand, and told me that he didnt get why I had such a problem with him cutting when people cut themselves all the time while shaving and cooking and performing chores of the like.

I tried, now shaking and wide eyed, to explain to him that the difference between people cutting themselves with the sheer intent of self destruction and people cutting themselves by accident was exactly that; the fact that those to whom he was so quick to jump to comparison against cut themselves accidentally.

He insisted that he still could not understand, and told me that he thought what he was doing was a lot better then someone who drinks and gets high all the time.

I tried, nearly in tears now, to explain to him that while drinking and getting high can be very self destructive in many diffrent ways, he was intentionally hurting himself, cutting himself, inflicting physical pain upon himself, and without any other motive. He has told me he does not derive any physical pleasure from what he does, like someone would from getting drunk or high, and yet he continues, seemingly without motive.

He still refused to understand, and finally, tears now falling freely from my eyes, I resorted to what I wished and pleaded and begged to myself I would not have to.

I told him that if he did not care enough for himself to stop this, this, thing, this disease, then he would consider the fact that he had a responsibility to his friends, to the people who love him. I told him that it was causing such a huge amount of pain and torment to his friends that he should understand that if he was going to continue with that knowladge it would be increadibly selfish.

When he still did not understand, I burst out in shaky, convulsing tears and sobbed uncontrolably at my computor desk.

Why was I so effected by this? Becuase....becuase it was those words that made me stop. And...and...if they could not stop him, I don't know that anything can.

All these memories, all these thoughts of the futility I must have made others feel, the fear, the need for understanding, the deep seated sadness, the feeling of failure.

I wish not to fail my friend, this person whom I love truly and deeply, and I fear it is exactly that which I have done.

Corey, please.....

...consider....

...think....

...understand...

*lana*

Its actually quite interesting what two little words, one minute, completely ambigious statement can make people assume.

I guess its a bad thing when I post the words "Its over" and the majority of my friends contact me asking why I want to kill myself...but a fate, no doubt, I've brought upon myself, what with all my sullen retrospection as of late...

Well, I suppose an explination for my words is in order....No, I was not referring to my life, nor was I reffering to the world...(both of which, mind you, I've thought were coming to complete ends numerous times in the past)..I was merely being melodramatic and the stupid, stupid girl that I am and was reffering to things that no longer apply anyway...so....there really isnt much point in talking about them now, is there?

(Yes, Virginia. It's as easy as that. Things swept under the rug best stay there lest secrets be revealed..or worse yet...absolute truth! *gasp*..)

As for recent events, I've done afew things these past days, most of which included riding that rollercoaster, that crazy fucking rollercoaster I like to call my emotional condition. The other day, a friend of mine told me I had an actresses temperment...I suppose thats a compliment, and at times, I'm absolutly in love with my ability to feel emotion as strong as I do...but love, as love most often does, walks hand and hand with utmost loathing and fear at times, and I suppose it is exactly that which keeps them in check. I always wonder to myself what it feels like not to feel at all... and then I remind myself of the times when I had taken my mother's valium and knew it all...

I also went to a Mettalica\Godsmack concert, which, although I really dont like that whole genre of music as much as others, was fan*fucking*tastic. It really was amazing, what with the intensity, the emotion, the blood, the sweat, the tears that were poured by the bucketfull into that music, its something you can just feel. It starts perhaps right in the center of your chest, pulsating and throbbing its way down to your stomough where it stays, spinning round spastically, until it moves down to your arms, your legs, all of your appendeges. I felt myself close to climax the entire time. The music became EVERYTHING, embodied every aspect of joy and freedom that I knew. I let myself go entirely, forgot for a short while every problem in my life, every problem in this world. I danced with insane passion, letting my body express for me what my words could not. Suddenly, I knew this man. I knew his mind, his passions, his aspirations, his crushed dreams. I knew.

It was a truly amazing experience.

And now for something completely diffrent.

*ahem*

Today was an office Haloween bullshit festival where all my Mother's corperate coworkers take their screaming brats and dance about in costume at the Science Museum(which has been closed off especially for the occasion), pretend to know the people they go to work with with biiig PR smiles platered onto their faces and a "Hey, Bob! How are the wife and kids?" One day, I'd just like someone to say, "Well, my wife left me on Wednesday, and my children burned to death in a fire in my house yesterday afternoon." Then we'll see how much longer you'll want to talk to good old Bob from accounting.

Well, long story short, I decided upon a fairy costume which had at one point belonged to my mother. When I told this to Eitan, whom I had invited to come with me to this thing, he said that he too would dress up as a fairy. I found this amusing, and couldnt wait to see what he would look like all fairy-full. Little did I know he was to come fully decked out in fairy gear the wings, the tu-tu, the wand, the plastic rose tiara. The whole 9 yards.

What was a tad bit twisted and maligned was that I found this outrageously sexy.

Apparently, he had gone on the train in full costume, and when people looked at him, he just stared at them back. One man continued staring, so Eitan turned to him and said "I'm a fucking fairy, ok?".

Now that is a story.

And for your information, kids, sneaking in kisses in the crevices of the Science Museum is, although sexy and exciting, as any public display of affection is, is increadibly frustrating when you have to stop suddently and keep on walking every 5 miniuites.

I'm going to need to spend a weekend at his house some time soon.

Oh, and the moon? Its drop dead gorgeous tonight. If people werent spending so much fucking energy fixated on that goddamn baseball game they could see the beauty of that red, red moon. Its rather glorious to see her covered up, after all these other days seeing her full naked form, to see the robe with which she quickly hides her exposed and glowing flesh from our hunry eyes...

..and what a beautiful robe it is..

*lana*

Attention: if you are looking for some witty political commentary or contemplation, look somewhere else.

That said..

The events of the days past can probably be summed up in three words.

Long story short.

Long story short, as stories often start, I am currently unaware of where I am.

In Reguards to the election, that political process, that crazytrain, I've decided that the only way I can properly deal with it is apathy. I cannot right now, at this specific point in time, take this as a personal issue. I know that on some levels it most definitly is, but ultimitly, as a citizen of this country who is not yet elligable to vote, my opition really means absolutly nothing. So....it really....honestly...doesnt matter much anyway.

In Reguards to other things, to life as I know it, or how I think I know it..(what is there to know right now?)..with yet another long story short, I found myself on Saturday night drunk and hysterical on the steps of a brownstone with my friend Thalia, crying my eyes out on the phone with Eitan. I...I tried to go back, back to that wildcrazypartypartydrugssexandrock&roll atmosphere, I tried to bring myself to go back to that little nook on 8th street, where I knew I'd find Roman..

...and I couldnt. I couldnt go back, I couldnt even bring myself to approach the street. I dont know what it was...not being able to do it all becuase of my relashonship with Eitan, becuase of my love for him, or not being able to face Roman, to face the way he looked sleeping there when I left him that morning, to fact the countless times he's called me afterwards, the times he's called me in the past two months. And every call ignored, acknoladged but ignored. I dont know what it was, but I most definitly could not go back there.

And...and I called Eitan, and we decided that our relashonship needed to not be open. Honestly, I did not hear one single reccomendation, one word of encouredgement about what I was doing. Everyone warned me of the fatal qualities something like that could have on a relashonship, especially one which you care about deeply. So....long story short, its not quite as simple as that.

And he came the next day, and we walked around my old neighborhood trick or treating, me with the old halo from my the back of my closet, and him with a sombrero and a fairy wand. We went back to the park, my old park, we passed places where I had once been, we passed places that inspired memories I had tried hard to forget, memories I had tried hard to remember but never could quite grasp again...

And now, well...now, I dont know a thing. I dont know a thing about love, nor do I know a thing about life, about how to live, about life experience. I dont know a thing about what he feels towards me, becuase I dont know a thing about why I always feel like our relashonship is some kind of burdon on his back. I dont know a thing about why I cant seem to say anything right. I dont know why I cant be smarter, why there are so many things I just cant bring to people in this world.....to him...to them...to anyone. I do not know why I constantly hurt, dissapoint, love, cry, fear, scream, fuck, hope, dismay, self destruct and want to fucking badly just to get out of this place, if only until they catch me...

Maybe none of it is feeling. Maybe all of this is truth, and I'm only trying to fool myself into thinking otherwise. Maybe all of this is tangible, tangible fact, so sharp it cuts through all the ambiguities with a searing blade, red hot and smouldering, trailing ember trackmarks down my arm.

and maybe I just need sleep.

What ever happened to yesterday? I was so fucking neutral. Shades of gray, shades of gray, shades of gray, shades of gray, shades of gray, shades of gray, shades of gr-

*lana*

Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, its time for everyones favorite game show:

 LISTEN TO LANA SPEW LYRICS FROM THE MOVIE THAT MOST RECENTLY MADE

                                                              HER CRY!

Thats right, kids, so see me go-go-go-like a spinning top or a...or a girl who is not in the correct state of mind to make up a clever analogy for something that spins!

And without further adue, ze champions of eastern block rock, HEDWIG AND THE ANGRY INCH!

Hedwig: After my divorce from Luther I scraped by with baby-sitting gigs and odd jobs - mostly the jobs we call blow.

Tommy: Do you accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Saviour?
Hedwig: No, but I love his work.

Yitzhak: Fuck you, I'm going to Guam!

Phyllis: I don't think it's going to help our lawsuit if you continue to st... if you present the appearance of stalking him.
Hedwig: You know I don't like that word.

Hedwig: How did some slip of a girly boy from communist East Berlin become the internationally ignored song stylist barely standing before you?

Hedwig: The road is my home. In reflecting upon the people whom I have come upon in my travels, I cannot help but think of the people who have come upon me. Tommy, can you hear me? From this milkless tit you have sucked the very business we call show!

Tommy: What is that?
Hedwig: It's what I have to work with.

Hedwig: I got kicked out of university after delivering a brilliant lecture on the aggressive influence of German philosophy on rock and roll entitled "You, Kant, Always Get What You Want".

Hedwig: Our apartment was so small, that mother made me play in the oven. Late at night I would listen to the voices of the American masters, Tony Tennille, Debby Boone, Anne Murray who was actually a Canadian working in the American idiom. And then there were the crypto-homo rockers: Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, David Bowie who was actually an idiom working in America and Canada. These artists, they left as deep an impression on me as that oven rack did on my face. To be an American in muskrat love, soft as an easy chair not even the chair, I am I said, have I never been mellow? And the colored girls sing... doo do doo do doo do doo... but never with the melody. How could I do it better than Tony or Lou... HEY BOY, TAKE A WALK ON THE WILD SIDE!

Hansel: Jesus says the darndest things.
slaps Hansel
Hansel: But he died for our sins.
Hedwig: So did Hitler!
Hansel: Eh?

Hansel's Mom: Absolute power corrupts.
Hansel (6 Years Old): Absolutely.
Hansel's Mom: Better to be powerless, my son.

"Luther: Girl, I sure don't mean to annoy you. My name is Sergeant Luther Robinson.
Hansel: My name is Hansel.
Hedwig(VO): Luther is silent for a moment, as he stares at my little Bishop in a turtleneck.
Luther: Hansel. Well, you must like candy.
Hansel: I like Gummi Baren.
Hedwig(VO): The taste is completely different from a gummi bear, yet somehow familiar. It's much sweeter than a gummi bear.
Hansel: Wow...
Hedwig: And softer too.
Hansel:I feel so optimistic.
Hedwig(VO): I suddenly recognize the flavor in my mouth. It's the taste of power.
Luther: Damn, Hansel, I can't believe you're not a girl. You're so fine. Why don't you take the whole bag?
Hedwig(VO): He searches my face for news of his fate. His expression is echoed in scores of tiny faces pressing against clear plastic. Panting faces of every imaginable color, creed, and non-Aryan origin. Fogging up the bag like the windows of a Polish bath house, I stumble naked through the ruins, back towards blander, less complicated confections, leaving in my wake a trail of rainbow carnage. Next day, Hansel follows the trail back and on his way finds a Milky Way, a roll of Necco Wafers, some Pop Rocks, and a giant sized sugar daddy named Luther.

Hedwig: The words falling from those lips, and his eyes, his irises were clear cylinders of surprising depth... and emptiness. Only a few puddles of bluish pain sloshed around inside. Same blue as my eyes

Tear me down

I was born on the other side
Of a town ripped in two
I made it over the great divide
Now I'm coming for you

Enemies and adversaries
They try and tear me down
You want me baby, I dare you
Try and tear me down

I rose from off of the doctor's slab
Like Lazarus from the pit
Now everyone wants to take a stab
And decorate me
With blood, graffiti and spit

Enemies and adversaries
They try to tear me down
You want me, baby, I dare you
Try and tear me down

On August 13, 1961,
A wall was erected
Down the middle of the city of Berlin
The world was divided by a cold war
And the Berlin Wall
Was the most hated symbol of that divide
Reviled, graffitied, spit upon
We thought the wall would stand forever
And now that it's gone
We don't know who we are anymore
Ladies and gentlemen
Hedwig is like that wall
Standing before you in the divide
Between East and West
Slavery and freedom
Man and woman
Top and bottom
And you can try and tear her down
But before you do
You must remember one thing--Hed:

There ain't much of a difference
Between a bridge and a wall
Without me right in the middle, babe
You would be nothing at all

Enemies and adversaries
They try and tear me down
You want me, baby, I dare you
Try and tear me down

The Orgin of love

When the earth was still flat
And the clouds made of fire
And mountains stretched up to the sky
Sometimes higher
Folks roamed the earth
Like big rolling kegs
They had two sets of arms
They had two sets of legs
They had two faces peering
Out of one giant head
So they could watch all around them
As they talked while they read
And they never knew nothing of love
It was before...
The origin of love
The origin of love

And there were three sexes then
One that looked like two men
Glued up back to back
Called the children of the sun
And similar in shape and girth
Were the children of the earth
They looked like
Two girls rolled up in one
And the children of the moon
Was like a fork shoved on a spoon
They were part sun, part earth
Part daughter, part son

The origin of love

Now the gods grew quite scared
Of our strength and defiance
And Thor said,
"I'm gonna kill them all with my hammer,
Like I killed the giants"
But Zeus said, "No-
You better let me
Use my lightning like scissors
Like I cut the legs off the whales
Dinosaurs into lizards"
Then he grabbed up some bolts
He let out a laugh
Said, "I'll split them right down the middle
Gonna cut them right up in half"
And then storm clouds gathered above
Into great balls of fire

And then fire shot down
From the sky in bolts
Like shining blades of a knife
And it ripped right through the flesh
Of the children of the sun and the moon and the earth
And some Indian god
Sewed the up into a hole
Pulled it round to our belly
To remind us of the price we pay
And Osiris and the gods of the Nile
Gathered up a big storm
To blow a hurricane
To scatter us away
In a flood of wind and rain
A sea of tidal waves
To wash us all away
And if we don't behave
They'll cut us down again
And we'll be hopping 'round on one foot
And looking through one eye

Last time I saw you
We had just split in two
You were looking at me
I was looking at you
You had a way so familiar
But I could not recognize
'Cause you had blood on your face
I had blood in my eyes
But I could swear by your expression
That the pain down in your soul
Was the same as the one down in mine
That's the pain
That cuts a straight line down through the heart
We call it love
We wrapped our arms around each other
Tried to shove ourselves back together
We were making love
Making love
It was a cold, dark evening
Such a long time ago
When by the mighty hand of Jove
It was the sad story how we became
Lonely two-legged creatures
It's the story of the origin of love
That's the origin of love

Wig in a box

On nights like this
When the world's a bit amiss
And the lights go down
Across the trailer park
I get down, I feel had
I feel on the verge of going mad
And then it's time to punch the clock

I put on some make-up
And turn on the tape deck
And pull the wig back on my head
Suddenly I'm Miss Midwest Midnight Checkout Queen
Until I head home
And I put myself to bed

I look back on where I'm from
Look at the woman I've become
And the strangest things seem suddenly routine
I look up from my Vermouth on the rocks
The gift wrapped wig still in the box
Of towering velveteen

I put on some make-up
Some LaVern Baker
I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf
Suddenly I'm Miss Beehive 1963
Until I wake up
And I turn back to myself

Some girls they have natural ease
They wear it any way they please
With their French flip curls
And perfumed magazines
Wear it up, let it down
This is the best way that I've found
To be the best you've ever seen

I put on some make-up
Turn on the eight-tack
I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf
Suddenly I'm Miss Farrah Fawcett
From TV
Until I wake up
And I turn back to myself

Shag, bi-level, bob
Dorothy Hamill do,
Sausage curl, chicken wings
It's all because of you
With your blow dried, feather backed
Toni home wave, too
Flip, for, frizz, flop
It's all because of you
It's all because of you
It's all because of you

(okay...everybody...)

I put on some make-up
Turn up the eight track
I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf
Suddenly I'm this punk rock star
Of stage and screen
And I ain't never
I'm never turning back

The Angry Inch
My sex change operation got botched
My guardian angel fell asleep on the watch
Now all I've got is a barbie doll crotch
I've got an angry inch

Six inches forward and five inches back
I got a
I got an angry inch
Six inches forward and five inches back
I got a
I got an angry inch

I'm from the land where you still hear the cries
I had to get out had to sever all ties
I changed my name and assumed a disguise
I got an angry inch

Six inches forward and five inches back
I got a
I got an angry inch
Six inches forward and five inches back
I got a
I got an angry inch
Six inches forward and five inches back
The train is coming and I'm tied to the track
I try to get up but I can't get no slack
I've got an angry inch
Angry inch

My mother made my tits outta clay
(tits of clay)
My boyfriend told me that he'd take me away
(tits of clay)
He dragged me to the doctor one day
I've got an angry inch

Six inches forward and five inches back
I got a
I got an angry inch
Six inches forward and five inches back
I got a
I got an angry inch

(Long story short!)
Yea, long story short
When I woke up from the operation I was bleeding down there
I was bleeding from a gash between my legs
It's my first day as a woman, already it's that time of the month
But 2 days later the hole closed up
The wound healed and I was left
With a one inch mound of flesh
Where my penis used to be
Where my vagina never was
It was a one inch mound of flesh
With a scar running down it like a sidways grimace on an eyeless face
It was just a little bulge
It was an angry inch!!