j is walking in the portland rain. he has a blue back pack, a black sweat shirt, black socks and black sneakers on. he has a roommate. his name is brian. they live in a small apartment on 24 th avenue. brian has a red beard. he wears mascara. they are close.
they both volunteer at the holly wood theater. brian wants to write a book about himself and j. j keeps a journal. brian is bipolar. he falls in love and then wants to share it with other lovers. b and his lovers look like each other.
j likes to keep to himself even though he has girlfriends he likes to talk to about boys and life. brian is jealous of j’s girl friend h. she has ocd and has a an eating disorder. j thinks she’s a genius. she was accepted into an art program nobody gets into. brian wants to dress up and have sex with h as a woman. she is scared of brian. she doesn’t understand what j is doing with him. she has a bf,t, with an overweening masculinity. brain wants to involve t and h in his book. he doesn’t know what it’s about. he never knows in the beginning what his book is going to be. he likes to write and think obsessively and let the writing reveal itself. he never knows when the book is done. he hasn’t completed a project.
j has been reading pessoa or pessoa had been reading him. the author has been following him. in every portland bookstore he finds himself in pessoa is there on the bookshelf.
i also want to write a book about j. i think i may have written a book about a young man like j. i think j is more me than i am myself.
j likes pessoa’s poetry more than he does the book of disquiet. i have been reading and rereading the book of disquiet and underling the text. everything to pessoa is a dream. the writing itself is not as dream like as his desire to vanish. the book keeper in the book of disquiet is in my mind pessoa. the thoughts he has are pessoa’s. i find it interesting that pessoa needed a fictional character to share his ohilosophy.
where were you last night, j said
i went out with t and h, brain said. we saw the green room.
i didn’t like it, j said.
i loved it, brian said. it was funny.
there’s nothing funny about it, j said.
i don’t like violence, j said.
i do,brian said.
i know you do, j said.
we went hiking, brian said. in the city park.
yeah, j said.
t and h got into a fight, brian said.
they always argue, j said.
t walked off, brian said.
i use buildings not websites or people.
k fell from her chair. she looks clean and in shape. she’s on her feet all day.
it should keep her in shape. t’s face looks like it wakes up when it gets punched.
he’s very clean cut.
k is a private person. she sent me a photo of myself. yet she never wants to meet me. i think her bf wants her to stay away from me or she wants me to be a witness. i feel that everything is pointless and i don’t feel everything is pointless. i feel like someone wants me to give in when i don’t have anything to give in to. i balk the motorists. they all drive the same way.
a has regrets. she never tells me that i’m beautiful or that she likes my eyes ears hands whatever. what else should i complain about. i can complain about complaining i can feel stressed about stress. i don’t know why i’m making things difficult for myself. i don’t want to have to walk far because i’ll have to walk the same distance back to my domicile. i don’t want to have to get my food. i don’t know what to do with myself. i’m angry. i can’t do anything interesting with myself. i walked a few blocks. i thought someone was following me. maybe it was brian. he gives me the creeps. we haven’t heard from h. t is worried about her. he feels bad that he left her in the park. brian has always wanted to get h on her own. she avoids him. he goes to the coffee shop where she makes cakes. maybe i’m waiting for the night. i can walk around and not be seen. there are so many people walking out. they are noticing me for the first time or they have seen me before and are noticing me for the second time. it’s ninety degrees. i feel like i have a cold. i think it’s the bp medication. i slept three hours in the early afternoon. the middle class is disappearing. there will only be rich and poor people and the police in america. i don’t know if sheila and thea are still in seatlle. i missed my docs appointment monday and rescheduled for thursday. i went in today friday thinking it was thursday. i met the doc but he wasn’t able to see me till monday. why did i think it was thursday on friday? i’ve never done that before. amanda is with her children. she can’t see me saturday. i think we will go to the rose garden on sunday. i prefer going there than to a movie. the weather may not be as good. they say it’s supposed to rain. the birds are awake and making repetitive bird sounds only they can understand. a mother and her two children are on a walk. she will have to cook them dinner soon. a tenant drops her bottles in the plastic yellow box or the tall blue plastic container. the grey homeless dude, the one with the dog, examines the bottles and cans. there’s another homeless dude equally grey who doesn’t work with the other grey homeless dude but goes through the same trash. sometimes they go through the trash five or ten times, day and night. other times they can’t be bothered. they have gone thought the trash when i was putting away my trash not caring that im a tenant. the grey homeless dude who has a dog like the other grey homeless dude lives in a vehicle that he maintains. he parks it in front of a grey house. he knows the middle aged bald man who lives there. they talk about what men talk about when they are on a name to name basis. both homeless men have long grey white hair and wear a baseball cap. they may be brothers. i don’t know why they haven’t killed themselves or anyone else. i wouldn’t be able to live like them with no privacy and never sure that they are in the right.
the manager is on the grounds. she is very wide and overweight. she is in her late forties and has no children. she reminds me of a time in my life when i wanted to fuck adults not being one. different body types walk their dog in the late afternoon.
i pity my ex when she looks worse than me. there is nothing i hate more than when i feel superior to someone. i feel at ease when another person doesn’t have time for me or they think that they are doing better than me which they are. i dread competition not ever wanting to lose. however there are times when i feel like i’m the better person and it happens in a subtle way so the person doesn’t notice that i feel superior and hate myself for it. life gets the better of me. does it for everyone else? the way some behave, like you are going to give them bad luck if they talk to you it doesn’t seem like it. my therapist was taking about chronic back pain and that it can make a person depressed when they think about the pain never going away. i was like what an asshole he’s really talking about my mental pain that will never go away and that it is far more depressing to cope with that reality than with the actual symptoms.
i have this idea of what a woman is as do my ancestors and i can’t say i know what it is. i can’t remember the idea. is it the childhood memory of my mother? is it an out of focus blur that was my mother when she was in her twenties? is it a warm and reassuring blob? it is more of a yearning than an idea the woman at the counter. rarely is there a not a divider in public between seller and buyer. she didn’t have make up on
yesterday. today she has on make up. she has on the red lipsticks that contemporary women use, black eye shadow and thick eyebrows what idea does she have of what a woman is? it is i think more advanced than my yearning or yelping. she has thick wrists and big hands and tight thin lips. i hope she isn’t mad. i said she has make up on and not much else. she said bliss was her favorite ice cream.