6/24/99 - I still can't get over Duc and what he wears on casual days, or days like yesterday where he only put in a few hours of work b/c of his doctor's appointment.  A baby blue polo shirt, tight jeans, and cowboy boots.  He looks like he was headed to the gay pride parade and took a wrong turn.

Jenny told me on Saturday that I can't be smoking herb in the apartment when I move in.  She said the landlord isn't down with it, and he didn't renew the neighbors' lease b/c he always smelled bud coming from there.  I'm cool with it; after all, how many people would be down with some pothead smoking up in their residence?  Would you?  The other benefit is that it'll act like a leash to keep me from smoking up every night.  I'll have to go somewhere else to smoke up, and that'll be a pain to find someplace in the crowded Westside where I can fire up without any pigs rolling by and flashing a spotlight on me.  When I moved back home a few years ago during my time off from school, I used to drive to an industrial park at night to smoke up, or just take a walk with the dog and smoke a J.  Then I got lazy and decided to just smoke up by an open window in my room.

Talked with my moms yesterday.  She finally got the $6Gs squared away and has it ready to lend to me to help me get a car, right?  So what does she do with it?  She sits on it until I call her and ask about it, and she asks me, "So what do you want me to do with it?"

"Uh, mail it!"

"OK, I'll do it Friday.  Is that OK?"  Is that OK?  What the hell am I supposed to say?  "No Mom, it's not OK, I wanted the money yesterday, what the fuck do you think?"  I can't be mad.  After all, she's lending me $6,000.  But I guess I'm a little disappointed -- I was expecting to have the money by Friday so I could get some car shopping done this weekend.  Instead I won't have it until next week, hopefully, so I'll have to rent a vehicle in order to move my shit into Jenny's, as well as buy a bed.  And car shopping during July 4 weekend isn't gonna be as lot of fun (as if car shopping normally is).  I'd rather just sit around and get stoned during the weekend -- it's an American tradition.

I figured out that I've got a "Big Brother Complex" -- I look up to my close friends a lot, and latch onto them so that I can use them as guidance.  I think of it as a Big Brother Complex to compensate for the big brother I never had.  I do have a big brother, of course -- Short Bus turns 31 in August -- but I never treated him as such.  Instead I treated him as an unwanted overweight object of scorn.  So I attach myself to friends like Ray, or Chris, who was my best friend during high school.  I like them, trust them, and use their example to try and build an identity for myself.  I wanted to do that with Phil, but I realized that was too far out of my league.  Y'know, I'm never gonna score, but he'd be a good role model to have followed for that.

It also might have something to do with the fact that I've never had a girlfriend.  Rather than sharing my emotions with her, I inflict my pent up need for emotional attachments onto guys.  Ick, how gay.

Anyhow, last nite I was kind of down -- I'm still picking up bad vibes from Ray -- so I went to the park to get some writing done.  I started flipping through the journal that I grabbed to write on, and I realized it had the supposed-to-be-farewell note from when I tried to kill myself last November.  So I read through that -- that was depressing.  I thought maybe I'd be far away from that by now that it wouldn't affect me, but when I started reading through it, I totally understood and felt everything that I wrote then.  (BTW, I'm thinking about posting the note up here one of these days.  I'ts hella long, though, so it'd take me a while to crank it all out.  Also BTW, today is the seventh month anniversary since I got out of the hospital for my aborted attempt.  If you don't know what I'm talking about, EXTRA EXTRA Read All About It!)  So then I went back and called Nicole, who's my lifeline when I get down and depressed.  I was telling her about my big brother complex, and she wuz telling me that I need to find my own identity, instead of trying to pattern one off of other people. 

Yeah, that's gonna happen.  I have no identity in the first place -- that's why I try to latch onto others.  Well, like I said yesterday when I was a kid I wanted to be a superhero and fight to protect a "world that fears and hates me".  Unfortunately, when I reached puberty my powers never manifested themselves.   Then I wanted to be black when I grew up.  As I got a little older, I wanted to be Asian.  I realize now that's never gonna happen -- people can have sex change operations, but they can't get race change operations.  Sometimes I get depressed at the lack of medical progress in the world.  I never gave much though to being a porn star, though.  Eminem expressed my feelings succintly when he said, "I'd need a bigger dick."

Now I'd just settle on growing up to be happy.

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