the reports of my birth are exaggerated

oh, and by the way, i am still alive. apparently some of you dear readers (what! you're still here?) think i have died and gone to hell. unfortunately for you, i haven't. i've just been busy being existential and worrying and being borderline angsty.

well, that is gonna stop. i'm gonna start smiling again. i'm gonna soak up the sunshine and feel the wind in my hair. i'm gonna break out my fuck-me-red strappy sandals and hit the town. cause this slut is on a mission from god.

matthew | archive |

metadiagnosis

is thinking that you're going insane a sign of going insane?

matthew | archive |

null set

i'm supposed to be cleaning my bathtub right now. but i'm not. i'm supposed to be changing my sheets. but i'm not. i'm supposed to be running on the treadmill. i'm supposed to be laying off carbs. i'm supposed to be writing, organizing, producing.

but i'm not.

i'm consuming. music, movies, books, treats, alcohol. boys. indulging in material things because my heart is numb and my mind dull. so i take in things to fill the void.

it doesn't fill, of course.


matthew | archive |

what is there to say?

passion is fleeting, but so is love
it is far easier to destroy than create.
empires always crumble at the apex.
cannibalism is found among all omnivores.
society is almost as isolating as being alone.
we drink to remember what it is to be free.


matthew | archive |

you can track my field

the hot and sexy mark showed me this down and dirty video. it makes me wanna hit the gym.

matthew | archive |

of palms and mountain ranges

i'm still a little tired, though my eyes have shed their red tint. my chapped lips should heal in a few days. and yesterday's lounging on drew's roof has replenished my supply of vitamin d.

my room is a mess. my suitcase is open at the foot of my bed, overflowing with smoky clothes. a bag full of diesel crap by my closet. magazines fully digested on jetblue sit on my desk.

a samba plays and the palm outside my window sways in the breeze, almost in rhythm. mount olympus sits squat behind the neighboring buildings (too short to hide the santa monicas).

i'm going outside. ciao bello.

matthew | archive |

sex in another city

i'll be in new york tomorrow. i cannot sleep tonight. and i doubt that i will sleep much for the next four days.

ah, sweet bohemie.

matthew | archive |