originally written october 7, 2013
12:01 PM
"no man is an island,
entire of itself.
each is a piece of the continent,
a part of the main.
if a clod be washed away by the sea,
europe is the less.
as well as if a promontory were.
as well as if a manor of thine own
or of thine friend's were.
each man's death diminishes me,
for i am involved in mankind.
therefore, send not to know
for whom the bell tolls,
it tolls for thee.
-john donne
devotions upon emergent occasions, 1624
12:02 PM
riddle me this : if the doll didn't write anymore, would she still be the doll? if the doll hadn't lived in arcadia, would she be any less doll-y? if the doll never met jimmy kiss, would joey kiss be any less cute?
these and more are questions you need to wonder about.
if you didn't guess already, diary, i saw jimmy two nights ago. he came to the riot house for two jack 'n' cokes and a beer. didn't say a word.
he not only knows that joey is out of town, in monticello farm country, but that he proposed. yup, jimmy's little brother really went and did it.
joey proposed and i say yes - now, how about that?
the next day, i got a call from his mother saying, "congratulations!"
i got a call from johnny kiss saying, "well, it's about time!"
but i got no call from jimmy saying anything of the sort.
and then i see him and he doesn't so much as bat an eyelash.
it really makes me sad...his silence.
no man is an island. he must feel something. maybe i don't make him feel anything...make his heart go pitter-patter or his tummy feel full of butterflies, but still...
he looked at me like he never knew me.
i wanted to just melt into a puddle on the floor and see myself out.
when i told joey, he basically made a noise equivalent to shrugging and said, "well, that's jimmy. you know him better than i do, babe, his reaction fits his bill."
which hurt even worse.
the bell tolls for thee...
8:02 PM
doesn't matter.
on the 13th i have tim bob flying into arcadia to visit us here in the hills for the usual piece for hep parade. i thought about cancelling it...again...but i need to work. i have to write. i have to be the doll.
somedays i do it for me; somedays i do it for the fans; somedays i do it for joey. somedays i do it for those who don't know me at all. future fans. or future critics. you never know.
i just remember all the good old times, you know? back when i could write existential shit on esoteric topics featuring both the light and dark corners of the american experiment. when did joey get so moody? when did i care so much? when did the drugs get so heavy? the days get so short? the doll....a harpy?