it's 12:57 am, on April 14, 2002 - space.
~
Again, in lieu of much of an entry, I'm going to talk to myself.
Self, I'm going to say, you're one crazy-assed motherfucker. You're going to go to Knoxville, in two weeks, and you're going to get picked up by Alestar, and then you and Alestar are going to drive to Orlando -- fucking orlando! -- and go see the last nsync show of this year. For a year. For an era.
Not only that. You have no job. You have no life. You are going to Orlando (!!!) to see *nsync. again.
The strange part? This is the thing that's lifted me out of this fear and panic, and shown a light. I can work. I can do school. I'm over the fence, I think, and into the summer. I'm happy. I need to desperately make this bracelet that says "do your thing" again, now that mine's tied up in an envelope. I remember. I believe nobody can do it better'n me.
I'm Lance and I'm going to fucking space. I can do this.
See, now, now, I believe I can do anything. This is the power of positive suggestions.
Lance in Space Epiphany. I will have seen the first and the last of the best of them. Wow. Fuckin' wow.
My gratitude knows no bounds. It's almost crying out of me in relief and in amazement, for the kindness of people.
--on an unrelated note, Kitty and I (remember about the snow globe? Right. that's her. Big world, small universe. anyway.) have been talking, talking, talking. She says "amen, sistah." She says "god bless moby." I like her. That is all.
I'm going to fucking go to school in the summer, provided they don't kick me out this year. I need the money of a loan to pay off my credit card, and August, and I need the freedom. Maybe I want to do publishing. Maybe I can work during the day and school at night. maybe I can be an astronaut.
Because, I'll say to myself, you know the important things. You know how to drive. You know that someone's picking you up (!!!). Self, I'll say, you know the answer to the question, "what're you doing on April 28th," and it's fucking going into space.
~
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