I'm a lonely German...a lonely German from Prague.

I went to Kevin's wake today and felt like such a phony. The whole thing just seemed strange to me. I felt like a phony because I'm not sad about the whole thing as much as I am disappointed. It was an open casket and I was on line to see his body and I couldn't shake this feeling that I wasn't supposed to be there and that waiting to see a dead person seems to me an extremely morbid practice. And then I moved slightly to my right and saw Kevin in the casket. That was way more closure than I needed, so I peaced the line. What would I have done when I got up to the casket? Knelt and prayed? I don't pray. Not for myself, not for no one else. I don't know how to. And I'm not too keen on anyone praying for me.

I could have apologized to him, because the memory I have of him that stick out the most is hitting him with my car door when we were waiting to get into Bonnaroo. I just wanted to lightly tap him as a joke. I was pretty delusional, having been awake for over 24 hours and been drunk twice during that time. So I thought it'd be a great gag. I hurt him pretty bad and felt like a fucking moron. So stupid. It's really more a memory of one of the more idiotic things I done. He just happened to be the victim in this case. And I'm sure he never forgave me for doing it. So that really sucks more than anything. I apologized so many times, and he verbally accepted the regret. But I know for a fact he never forgave me because he expressed his distaste for me to Tim and Tony the following year on their way to Bonnaroo. I shouldn't have done that. It was such a stupid fucking thing.

I don't emote in public very well. At least not when I'm sober. But I guess I should just become accustomed to it, because there's no way I can avoid having to go to another stupid wake or funeral. I mean, the way I want it when I die is to have my body stripped of all its parts and have whatever's left burned, with my ashes thrown out in no extraordinary manner. I don't want people hovering around me. That's stupid. I don't want a stupid funeral. The time and energy it takes to dispose of my body shouldn't be more than half an hour and the strength it takes to lift me onto a gurney. Because you all have better things to do. Just make sure I'm fully clothed. Actually, pose me up so that I get rigor mortis'd cupping my balls and giving the finger.

I'm just not a very spiritual person. Especially when it comes to Death. You know? Asses to asses, butt to butt.

The case for "don't it."

The contraction "isn't" is of the words "is" and "not," isn't it? So my writing "isn't it" technically means "is not it," which doesn't make sense. Yet we say it every day and accept it as logically sound. I have no problem with this. In fact, I'm all for it. So I propose that the use of the contraction "don't" should be stretched as follows: "Don't that." This simply means, "Don't do that," but in the spirit of contractions, for efficiency via word fusion, I've eliminate a whole word and kept the technical meaning. "Is it not?" = "Isn't it?" as much as "do it not" = "Don't it." It's just a proposal in its early stages. It would take years and years to work its way into everyday vocabulary. But it all starts with you. So the next time you have to say "don't do it," don't it. Instead say "don't it." If you don't it, if you don't what I say, you'll surely die due to being murdered by me. You know it makes sense.

I was teaching Emily how to count half notes, and in my periphery I saw that she was picking her nose. I shrugged it off and said to myself, "at least she's not eating it." A few seconds later she says, "boy, I'm hungry!" Ugh. I had the good sense to turn my head away. I told her to stop cause that's gross. I have nothing against nose-picking. I just did it now; it's something that has to be done. No one can don't it. It's the eating part I never understood. I made her swear that she had stopped before I went on with the lesson. So then we played together pizzicato until she said, "ew, my booger is stuck to the string!" Five minutes later, she farted. Meanwhile I'm sitting over here trying to get over the fact that this little girl munches on her nose goblins. The last thing I needed was for her to fart. But that's exactly what I got.

Then I have to go out and tell her mom how well she's doing without mentioning what type of pranks she pulls on me during the lesson...I'd do her mom.

Tomorrow I go to the city and get my film back and edit the shit out of it and get accolades.

Shit happens when you party naked.

Also, I swear it, Bad Santa has to be one of my favorite movies. It is not doubt my favorite Christmas movie. It's so well written. It has some of the best dialogue ever; the insults never get stale. I have no qualms with its use of the word "fuck" on account of its delivered with such precision and without pretension. And the almost completely muted scene of the car chase and shootout to Chopin is the best shit ever. I love everything about it except for stupid John Binnell. His stupid voice always reminds me of stupid "world's wildest police video" shows, because that's the only stupid way he knows how to talk.

Also, today I went without cigarettes, booze, and/or weed. It's my first clean day in a long while. I have to come to the terms that: I don't enjoy smoking and that it makes me smell like shit; I don't get happy drunk anymore, just cynical and sick to my stomach; and the high I get from smoking weed only lasts about half an hour, at which point I become a lazy piece of shit. If I can keep this up, I'll be a better human being, by most standards anyway. Girls will like me better. I'll have more money. The only down side to cutting down on the vices is that it'll lengthen my worthless existence on this godforsaken planet. OMG jkjkjk. But seriously, fuck it.

Also, I didn't get any phone calls, IMs, or emails today, nor were any of the face-to-face interactions I had of any worth. In fact, I think the first full sentence I voiced came around 5pm. I feel mighty isolated. The depression subsided, I don't give the loneliness any consideration, now it's just ennui and self-perpetuating separation. I don't like talking to people at Hofstra. It's like they're afraid of being smart and don't like hearing smart things. So there's no hope in socializing at school. This may be a pathetic cry for help, yes, but I'm fucking bored, and begging for attention is my only hope:(

Also, elections for editor-in-chief and managing editor for NONSENSE are this Thursday, and I'm running once more for e-in-c. It'll be my second attempt and last if I don't win. But I think I have an alright chance. I just have to prepare an awesome speech instead of rattling off a bunch of impromptu bullshit. And I'm going to make pencils like they did in High School.

And finally, today in substance abuse class Dr. Kathleen M.S. was talking about how her 90-year-old grandmother dates or dated men well after she was windowed. So I wanted to say aloud, "Yeah, that's old and disgusting," a la Tim Meadows as The Ladies' Man. I'd have been the class hero. They would have carried me out on their shoulders, the teacher writing A on the wall. I mean widowed.

Ok fine, then you can go back to chatting with your precious customers, you phony, chatty, piece of shit.