At last, I went to San Francisco yesterday after some months or weeks maybe. I listened to my new Type O Negative album on the way and was merely lost in the rapid progression of my thoughts and fixated on the lustrous scenery of the sea. As we were driving around the tall buildings, I remembered 9/11 and was sentient of this unquestionable sadness. When it happened, it hadn’t hit me because I was living in another country. I visualized the planes crashing, the people falling and incinerating and then felt the shivers in my abdomen. If somebody wanted to attack, why couldn’t they challenge this country for a duel in some battlefield? Forgive me, I don’t discern the significance of all this hatred and war.

We entered Frisco and my eyes were gifted with the view of an archetype of such a beauteous spectacle. So many humans, so many buildings….quite a variety! I felt somewhat relieved there. Then we went uuuuuup in the street as I was frightened for my life….and then I saw the entirety of the city right before my eyes in Twin Peaks. Like a child I kept pointing at all the well-known places. Father, look, there’s the Golden Gate! Oh my, there’s Castro! Wow! I don’t think my father found anything special about the whole thing but I was astounded by the mesmeric beauty of the whole city. San Francisco is unforgettable. I felt that I was in a place where I felt I could kind of belong…Did….Did you know they have original publicity photographs of Pola Negri in their library? Oh my lord! A few hours before, I had entered a state of great excitement. I discovered a library around my town that had a wide movie collection. I grabbed some Garbo, James Cagney, Ingrid Bergman, Woody Allen and Laurence Olivier. I had been forewarned to be conscious of my wildly happy moods, for what goes up must come down. And it did go down. We almost passed the Fillmore….The place where I saw my favorite band again six months ago. I nearly cried. I remembered their performance….Their faces….My mood started to lower. Then we were driving away on the freeway. Oh no, we were leaving! NO! I didn’t want to return to my prison of a town! San Francisco feels like the world while the town I live in feels like a zoo. I barely even walked. I just placed my steps in Twin Peaks. I felt that the city meant nothing to my father since he told me that there were no other touristic places to visit. By god, I don’t care about touristic rubbish; I just wanted to walk around San Francisco! I said nothing and searched for some good music to listen to on my way home. All my CDs seemed boring. Nothing seemed endurable. Nothing seemed fun. I had to turn off my favorite band. Listening to Frank Zappa was hellish boredom. The Doors sounded overplayed. Oh, I just wanted something I could ignore. I felt that I could never achieve happiness since I was always going to be perplexed with my persistent mood swings. When I am happy, I am convinced that I will forever be satisfied and grateful for everything I have. I see there is so much to do in the world and that I can achieve my dreams. Yes, I very much can! Then I go down….and I don’t see the mere point of anything. We all will be dead one day. I’ll always be too depressed to do anything or to even graduate from the university. I am to always remain lonesome, obsessed with my imperishable interests. Yeah, that is how my moods are. Then I am afraid I won’t know how I really feel about anything. If I am happy, I’ll respect something. When I am sad, I will despise it. Everything depends on my moods. In the name of the almighty Touko Laaksonen, why am the accursed one for this torture? Was it some kind of punishment?

I arrived home and I watched an excellent film to distract me. It was Play It Again, Sam. Oh, I remembered how I liked the characters Woody Allen portrayed. He’s always this brainy, misunderstood character. In this one he played a Bogie obsessed man who could not find humans that pleased him. He was trying to form relationships but he was unable to because he was such a quintessential creature. I loved how Bogie kept giving him advice. I felt better after watching this. I’m glad I wasn’t the only human (even though this was fiction) who could not find any other beings to easily befriend because he/she was too immersed in his/her own individuality.

Now, I have been troubled in the morn thanks to my moody mother. She and my grandmother keep having these clamorous discords. Hmm, all right. I’ll be off to watch some Garbo now. I wish I could have gone to Castro to buy my Tom of Finland book. Of course, my father would never lend me the money to buy that.

Oh, this life. This existence.
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