dark corner of the american experiment — 2017

originally written january 21, 2017

9:04 PM
jimmy stopped by the house here in arcadia to borrow some old records and we ended up going to dinner. as if no time had passed, we ducked the photogs staked outside the gated and all that...the old drill. headlock just shook his head when i told him. you can't see me right now but i'm shrugging. i dunno. i'll always love him. he's apart of me.

i have to leave and come back for a pretty people club shoot. was thinking about hiring jimmy.

"soon, soon...the unsweet by and by" -@heavyhorse

11:07985562781 PM
did i tell ya he sent me a love letter? it was misspelled, full of references even i, yours truly, didn't 'get', but laden with underlying love and mystery. my favorites.
he sent it to me about a month ago.
i was too busy fighting off pregnancy rumors and drug rumors and wedding rumors and joey suicide rumors. or were they rumours? were they not whispers, echoing through the hidden glades of cielo and arcadia? and have they not been uttered for years, just in different variations?

i'm no good at being alone. jimmy is well aware.
he's my waterloo, like they say...which would make me his gypsy lane...

10:11 PM
it took me at least an hour and then the amount of time to smoke a cigarette to find that damned love letter.
still, the words are destined for me and me alone. so i shall only post an excerpt :
"the stress of longing...

coarse as you were down the old canal, you were the river and i was fine...
at the harbour deep and mine...
you're estranged and i am fine.

you must be a stranger or broken-hearted. the uschi of my dreams.

kissy kissy."

11:46 PM
super duper cryptic, wouldn't you agree? i have to admit it made me shake and shiver. he always knows just what to say to me to make me melt. what a funny relationship. i sometimes wonder myself...how long we'll do this dance. he;s my favorite person - my greatest feature.
my muse? surely.

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?