I’ve been evoking a lot of emotion towards a lot of people I speak to lately. I scared the hell out of my psychiatrist. He basically threw me out of his office. I’m not confrontational with people, but there are conceptions of mine that can really upset someone who is too comfortable, and God knows, people screw with my comfort zone all the time too. I don’t intent to annoy or scare anyone. I just try and explore certain conceptions that are uncomfortable for people to accept. I’ll leave it in the book.
It is a cool feeling to know more people are reading me lately. Here and there people will tell me they’ve read my book! I think that is a lot more rewarding than how Jack Kerouac felt after a rave review about On The Road. It is just good people, who it was intended for.
I spent a lot of today trying to set up my website. It’s all the same stuff. I didn’t meditate this morning. It was the first time, in probably, six months that I just didn’t do my morning routine. I’m not here to impress anyone. I guess the thing that I must be aware of is whether or not I am beginning to fall back into old patterns that will surely leave me, slapping my head against the wood, that I am some sort of failure for buying a pack of Camels. (I’ve bought a few packs in the past year, but still haven’t smoked a single cigarette, which says something.) However, I mention all this because, after you forget to do your daily twenty minute quota, sit on the couch, screaming at your computer about how this website designer doesn’t make sense, and, surely I am being hacked, you really start to doubt your self worth, yet again.
I hope you all know I don’t do all this strictly for me. Maybe some part of me thinks I am reaching another young poet. Or there is a girl out there who thinks the same as I do, and then we could live in a world where two people feel less alone. I read a girl’s poetry tonight, and boy, does it sound nice to get another person’s poems in my head (someone I know and who isn’t dead no less). Still, I had to call a few of my freaky friends and family members to remind myself that I’m still a beautiful human being. I am lucky. And. It hurts to be alive. And. I hate the way I think. Secret: Overthinking leads to depression. I really understand what Hemingway meant when he said that happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing to be known. I lika bein a little stooped sum dayz. So I watched a movie tonight. And fuck, if I don’t know some guy didn’t break his back so that I could laugh and learn about how silly this mess is. Now, time to clean up. Sleep on the floor until about 2, when I give up and hop in bed, hear my 4:45 alarm, and snooze until the nightmares scare me out of bed, and a brand new day looks like a naked old lady waiting to be slayed.
Ben Bonkoske 