fuck memories

in ray bradbury's Illustrated Man there was a story about a two astronauts stranded in their craft. one kept saying how memories are no good. how they're like porcupines. you kick them around, but end up with a foot full of sharp, painful quills. even the good memories give you some level of strife. the last few months i've been thinking about jessie again, and it's bugging me. i'm getting more and more curious to know what she's up to these days, but without starting shit, or getting back in her life. i still think about holly too. yeah, and even tanya occasionally. i only sort of dated her for a few months, and word has it last night that she's an alcoholic with not too many friends left. she spends most of her time at the model. big surprise. i'm a pretty nostalgic person for thre most part. i'm not sure why, but i've always been like that. i always idealise the past, and while i guess that's an optomistic way of looking at things, it drives the people close to me a little crazy sometimes. all in all it leaves me with some feelings of emptiness, like the past is lost, and things will never be as good. fuck the greener grass. the grass is just as green now as it was then. but then again all i have to think about is my balding head. it's slipping way dude. it's slipping ever so slowly away.

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