FRANK IS TROUBLED

i have rarely felt more rotten than i do now, because i fear i've been rejected by something i loathe. i need to get the job at hollister though. my innards are going in all different directions but crawling there. crawling in despair of not getting to stay here, crawling because i was stupid enough to not dupe the manager, some bug eyed girl from dallas texas who, smiling so fucking blankly, chides the laziness of swedes with their socialism and their silver platters. what a little idiot. but i need that job!

aaaaaahhhhhhhgggggg

i should've realized when she was telling me about her time in turkey where she got to see the places in the bible. but, when asked what things i was proudest of, i scrambled and just started speaking -- it's amazing how one can just speak when necessary, the spoken bullshitting is more strikingly bullshit, smellier and more vacuous, because it's scary how quickly and fast it comes. i've got a raging river of empty nonsense dammed up in my mind and i don't like seeing it. anyway, i mentioned the article they printed in the local newspaper about homosexuals and romcoms and whatever, but i felt the mood cooled significantly because, well, it was about HOMOS! how could i have been so STUPID! and now i'm anxious! i'm reduced to thinking ill of myself and my leadership abilities because of being so unprepared for that goddamn interview! how did i not think up some goddamn camp counselor anecdotes; camper with dead parent, rescued canoe, lost puppy, whatever the fuck. and now what the fuck am i gonna do.




also, i want to write like pauline kael. there's some awkward ambition, it's even worse to have written it down. now everything i type seems to steam with pretense, with trying.