regular boring day

i don't know if i can write that "novel." i don't really want to work on it. today i feel better than i have all week, but not great. my dreams are disturbing and reveal unhealthy obsessions. my fragile commitment to health and wealth seems unrewarding. my sisters are coming to visit me this weekend. i want out of this office. i want the world. i want more power and more love. i wish i was more talented and more intelligent and more beautiful. i want to lay on the beach. i'm wearing ugly clothes. this blog sucks. i don't like the things i've written here. i was going to print it out, but then i realized it's pointless. there is nothing here worth saving. great novels are worth saving. blogs and journals don't really tell you that much about someone anyway. it tells you who they want you to think they are, and sometimes who they think they are. there are many beautiful moments with people i can remember perfectly. every girl that i have loved exists in my mind and is still loved. michelle is clinically depressed. she tries to get an appointment with a psychiatrist but for some reason there aren't many available in nyc or bklyn. michelle has nice shoulders and i find it comforting to think about them. my psychiatrist is a russian lady who really does not give a shit but who makes a point of following the rules. i could be a psychiatrist. anybody could. how hard is it to prescribe antidepressants? i really don't think they do shit anyway. all you need is the internet and perhaps a dsm manual and you're all set. anybody whose title begins with "psych" should have some kind of psychic powers. but you can tell these people anything, and they just go by what you tell them. if i said, i'm going to kill myself, knowing full well that i'm not, they would still have me put in the hospital. and if i said i'm fine, even if i obviously wasn't, they would just say, "alrighty then, this here zoloft should do the trick," (hmm, not in those words) and send you on your way. that's an extreme example, but it's true all around. and if they get the sense that you already know what you need, they resent you. like, if i say i need xanax, the doctor will give me a suspicious look, but if i said, "i can't sleep and i'm obsessing over this or that etc." they would say, "gosh let me prescribe you some xanax." it's not the solution. whatever. i wish there was something i was really looking forward to. like an alternate universe. i wish i could really write a novel. Alicia Dipietro stopped being my friend. i miss her and i really wish we were still friends. i want people to know that i am a very fair and kind person. i have done or said some things that were not nice but there was a method to the madness and i would never mess with anyone's life who didn't deserve it. well, i am on my own as far as this goes. maybe i just miss my college friends. but i really wish i could be friends with some gay artists here. i also miss G., and i wish i could reach out to her. but with her it is always a question of power, whether she admits it or not, and i will not lay my head on her chopping block. fuck no! my wife is busy during the day. she's not sitting at a computer, looking for interesting jokes and information, able to IM or leave comments on each other's pages and stuff. i really miss Alicia. she's such an interesting person and totally hilarious. you know what? i was looking at these pics of me as a baby/child and i noticed something strange. in the pics with my mom, even where i am clearly trying to cozy up to her, her hands hang limply at her sides. was she always cold like that? she has a really pretty smile, but why isn't she grabbing and hugging her kids? i keep having dreams that i'm screaming at her, "you're such a fucking bitch!!" and stuff like that. rage. feces. (contamination? disturbance during the anal stage of childhood?) it's me or tati (my cat) having to go and the bathroom sways wildly, sewage runs on the floor, there are broken locks on the door or no doors on the stall, kitty littery poo in my mouth, on my hands, just lots of nasty stuff. i need to know why. or do i? i might ask my therapist to try to hypnotize me but i don't think it would work. well, 5.5 hours to go of work. i am avoiding writing a boring paper. it's quiet here. no calls. i might try to leave early.