"Don't you tell me to deny it�I was wrong and I will suffer for my sins."

I have this incredible impulse inside of me, goading me to light up a cigarette while sitting at my desk at work. I get this feeling whenever I travel on a plane, and sometimes when I'm in elevators. It's not a "nic fit" or anything like that - it's more of a big "Fuck You" to the anti-smoking establishment and people who think they can colonize me with their imperialist views.

And I voted Gore, not Nader.

*~*

"Heaven help me for the way I am�save me from these evil deeds before I get them done."

Big party tonight. Big parties all weekend. I stopped in the bodega on my block this week and the most adorable Mexican boy who works there, said to me "Pardy! Party tonight?" I said, "Nope, no party tonight." He feigned surprised and said, "but you have party every night!" Yes, I know I have a freaking party every night.

So, I'm all fired up about the party although I have a tight budget and will have to suck up to someone for free drinks�Or, perhaps I will find myself a kind male patron to support my cocktail bill.

Which means I have to be nice to strangers. Boring�

*~*

I wish I had unlimited funds. Not to spend egregiously, but to just trollap around town without having to worry about debt and budgets and taxi fare, etc. That is my wish.

And then I wouldn't have to work, which would also be great. I would be a fantastic layabout. I would hang out and paint and walk around NYC, travel when I wanted. Get up in the morning and write (how very Anne Sexton, I know); paint in the afternoons.

Drink in colorful watering holes and speak with colorful people. People with beautiful lines etched in their faces proving that they've lived. Callouses on their beautifully beaten hands proving they've worked. Telltale lines in the corners of their eyes that have seen more heartbreak and love than I can imagine at this age. THOSE are the beautiful people.

*~*

I was thinking the other day, how I remember when JFK Jr. died and I said to my roommate, that it feels like the thrill is gone. There used to be a kind of heightened excitement in NYC when he lived here, that you may run into him and Carolyn at this or that fundraiser or on the street. And God, he was an incredible site to behold.

I was walking down the street the other day and that feeling came over me. That feeling of there being nothing to look forward to...do you know what I mean? Like when you realize the man or woman of your dreams, is just another person with faults and imperfections. Or when you find out Santa Claus is a myth.

I just felt deflated. So I find myself overcompenstating for that. Scurrying and smiling and trying to please everyone in the hope that their happiness will be contagious and spread a smile across my face. It's not really working yet.

I am such a chronic overcompenstator. Why do I do this? Why do I have this innate need to be the most popular? Why do I need to have the whole world love me? (I wonder if Mother Theresa ever felt like that - maybe she was really a big media-seeking egomaniac!? I'm going to Hell. I know) Is it possible for me just to hide out? Can I possibly say "no" to friends?

I'm bored with my life.

"What I need is a good defense because I'm feeling like a criminal."

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