journal 8/25

I've been listening to this Alice In Chains cd. It's the one where
the actual cd is orange with a close-up of a grass-hopper's face. I've
been feeling it deep inside. There's this one lyric: "If I can't be my
own, I'll feel better dead." It's kind of where I am. I don't mean I'm
going to kill myself. I'm just not taking any more shit from anyone,
not from my parents, not from my brother, not from big brother, not
from no one and I don't care what it costs me. I've resolved that I'm
not cutting my long hair for anyone, not for my trial, not for a job.
I'm Samson and fuck Delilah; I decked her.
You know, I really am a literary genius. The poetry I'm cranking out
these days.. every other poem is a masterpiece. I've been working so
long and I'm finally in the zone. People don't get it. They don't see
that I write what I write because it's precisely what I mean to write.
I can do what our society considers good poetry. But I'm beyond that;
I'm creating my own style. I'm making literature dangerous again. I can
give you my biography in advance. The fame will come eventually but by
then I'll be so mangled and bitter that it won't do much for me. My
soul will already be dead. Like John Gorka said, "They didn't get what
I was meaning, till I stopped meaning too much." I'll probably
over-dose on fine Afghani black tar heroin and become a legend for
in-group kids who ought to be shot.