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The sermon for Wednesday, Jun. 26, 2002 is: lying on the floor waiting for my ears to stop ringing


12:07 a.m. Yawn. Good evening, good morning, hello dear Diary. I've just gotten off the phone with Young, he called finally. He had taken some Valium with his alcohol along with his usual Celexa chaser, so though still suicidal he wasn't as nerve-janglingly emphatic about it as usual. To cheer him up we talked for hours about concentration camps, the details of the Wannsee Conference, David Irving, you know, typical teenybopper stuff. He wants to go to Wannsee so he can see the mansion where they plotted both the Holocaust and the July 20 plot to assassinate Hitler-- a happening house! We got into a little argument because for no real reason I decided to fuck with his head and tell him that in fact the Wannsee house was a 2-bedroom duplex with no cable TV. For some reason this irked him considerably, and his irksomeness simply sparked me to make up more "facts" about the Holocaust, what happened, where it happened, and what movies backed me up. Inevitably this led to discussion about Israel and Palestine, wherein I played devil's advocate again, to my withering soul's undying chagrin. Anyway. Two hours later of concentrated Shoah-me-the-money has made me strangely very tired and my muscles very tense. I realise I've been sitting in the same position for a long while now, in front of this computer, debating Treblinka, Sobibor, Belzec. Maybe I should become a catatonic, I certainly have the training for it.

Goodnight, my Diary. Au revoir, les enfants.

flip flop





Sept. 25, 2004
the Funny Show
Sept. 23, 2004
agriculture poem
Sept. 23, 2004
my life in the ghost of Bush
Sept. 18, 2004
time-lapsed (part 1)
Sept. 16, 2004
unreconciled
Goodbye present, hello past









Images are taken without permission from the fine and trusting folks at Folk Arts of Poland; please purchase something from them. Background music stolen without permission from Epitonic, Basta Music, and just about everywhere else my unscrupulous hands could grab something. No rights reserved.