Sometimes after the coffee wears down all I really feel is nervousness. Like, maybe the entire world is my responsibility. And that maybe everything revolves around me. And maybe I made another mistake at work. Maybe I was irresponsible and now I won't be respected. I won't be though about in a positive way. That is really all I want. Is to be thought about in a positive way. I am not sure how I want to write anymore. I read today in the Diane Arbus book that she told an admirer of her work and fellow photographer, "while it isnt good to to copy me, it is something every artist goes through before he evolves a style of his own."
The photographer says, "She was right."
I am obsessed with this book. It is the only thing I really want to talk about other than the nyu suicides. I have a lot of questions. Mostly, was the second and third suicides just copying the idea of the first? If the first hadn't thought of jumping, would the others have choosen a different route? Would they have changed their minds? Did the third already change her mind as she dangled from the roof of the building and the man with the binoculars watched?
I needed to find the perfect journal. Something to write in that already had meaning and substance. Today someone tipped us a moleskine journal. No one else wanted it. I felt a little okay. But I still wondered if my coworkers hated me a little because we got out at 1235 instead of 1215. whywhywhywhywhy. I want to write notes all over my walls that say positive things. This might improve my nighttime.
Also, why with the spanking every night? Is it really spanking that I hear?