Marker

We’ve got a marker on the page now,

In white and black and red.

White for the ghosts that haunt my steps,

Black like the shadows creeping in my head,

Blood of course is what makes the red,

And these each in turn swirl about my eyes,

And in the halls of past and future,

All will see my statue and recognize

The smile: soft and constant, but not quite right.

Lost in light…….

So this is the thousandth entry.  I started this diary years ago on a whim.  I was thinking at the time of the fact that I was a poet and a romantic.  I think now about all the years and all the events and things that have moved my life from place to place, point to point, like constellations in the sky and I wonder if I’ve really changed as much as I bragged, lamented, and noted within the various entries that have passed.  I think not.  I’m the same person I was all those years ago.  The only thing that has changed is my voice isn’t nearly as loud.

In the other room where the movie goes

I hear the movement of wiggling toes

Warmth and laughter of friends and lovers,

Rolling round beneath the covers that they pull tight

In the cold of winter nights– all out their living their lives

And thinking things that I can’t think

Dreaming nothing or little flashes that are flickers and dusky ashes

That bounce around the beams of the golden sun that are my dreams.

I’m always so much bigger.  I say it, feel it, think it, dream it….hopefully I am.

I don’t want to be a worthless man.

Sometimes I think that being that is about all I can.

I was frustrated today.  Greatly angry at everything building up like this.  I was angry at myself for being so damn swamped and being such a slipshod Publicity guy for ‘Christmas Carol.’  I’ve been working my tail off for it, but with the deadlines, the fact I’m in the show, the fact that I have a buttload of classes, just finished Cabaret and all….well, I just haven’t put my whole heart into it.  I’m angry that I have essays due every day of class for the rest of the semester.  I’m angry that I have rehearsals for my own show, which I poured my heart and soul into the words and nobody gives a god damn about it except Dave…and even he doesn’t understand.  I’m angry that I’m too afraid to speak what I really want to say about things because I think people will shy away from me because if I talked, I’d cry a lot.  The passion is too too strong in me.  I’m tired of being sick. I’m tired of being alone.  I’m tired of not getting my way in the very most important things in all of my life.  I rank them and IT, LOVE, lands on top and it is the last for me.  I land on bottom for luck in that area.  I’m angry at Theresa for saying nothing big except something that just made me angry.

Brad Meyer said: “Everyone in this department is slipping.”

Theresa and Nancy said: “We’re fine.”

I said: “Well, everyone who is sane is slipping.”

And Theresa said: “Um…and who do you have?”

And she was right.  I don’t have anyone like the way I want.  And it was a double edged sword sitting there.  But rather than cutting both ways, the speaker and the listener, it cut me twice.  Once because I was alone and impotent and unable to do anything about it.  I struggle on like a middle schooler with my nervousness and shyness and desire just to please.  I don’t push.  I don’t fight.  I don’t try to be their perfect someone.  I just try to be myself and not over impose…..I’m Cary Elwes from ‘Liar, Liar.’  He’s the nice guy who finishes last.  And then the other side of the sword that cuts on the way out is that she is one of those ones I truly wanted.  I was just thinking today when I looked at her how amazingly gorgeous she was.  How fantastically beautiful.  It is beauty, nothing less that I adore.  I don’t care if people think it vain.  I don’t care if people say that’s all right.  It’s what I want and I don’t want opinions about it.