Still in Mpls. till tomorrow.
feeling abashed for pretentiousness in previous post--why do i mention captain beefheart; why do i have to quote e.m. forster. trying to prove how intellectual i am or some shit. that's such a drag.
it's always hard to read your own diaristic emissions--like 2nite I had to clear out the hard drive from my old minneapolis dino-mac. this involved re-reading all the emails i wrote to matt welch four years ago when i was really fucked up struggling with self esteem junk, writerly identity confusions and heartsickness. plus of course there was no good rock, which really was the actual problem. no good rock was so hard. the only rock was that i had just discovered lester bangs by accident at the bookstore.
(Matt by the way if you're there i can't read your warblog tonight. you prolly know that already....)
i was so miserable. but the weird thing is, it's possible to have tons of fun when you're miserable. I think the misery actually makes fun stuff funner.
in a way, minneapolis is a fun town to be depressed in. there's always tons of funny, smart, embittered drinkers who'll back you up in any misanthropy or cynicism you're nursing.
well, fuck this minneapolis nostalgia. fuck that painful time. fuck misery, too, while you're down there.
i wanna go home.