backyard crowing
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pianist
oh god i'm so tired and some guy is playing piano in jester east and it's killing me because it reminds me of dad. there are a couple of other people in here and they're playing rap music through their headphones, and they don't get it. there's this connection between me and the pianist, and i don't know if he knows it yet. his playing is relaxing, and yet it set me off.
i'm in tears again. i think i need to sleep and then get up and write the stupid paper. maybe i shouldn't have chosen press coverage of suicide in history as a topic, it's too emotional for me right now. it's only making me feel worse. well, worse and better at the same time. it's difficult to look at these things when it's the potential dead you they're writing about. the idea is to evaluate articles then and articles now, and see how they've changed and whether it's for the better.
i often think of what individuals would say and do and think if I "offed myself," as they say in Wristcutters. I go down the line of people, from acquaintances to professors to friends to parents. it's interesting to me to think about how they might react. and i'd probably be on the front page of the university paper, as i worked there for a semester. can you imagine, my face all over the front page? at least i hope i'd be important enough to warrant a front page...but i'm probably not. you never know until you try it...but even then, you're dead, so you probably still don't know, unless you're looking down from heaven.
"I messed up, better I should have known."
4:00 am - Thursday, May. 01, 2008
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