there's a catholic boy that we see on the morning walk south down cornell. he hit's me in my solar plexus. he's doing nothing but hurt. i have to say something. last time i smiled and said good morning.—good morning. absolutely no response, i reiterate and sang a ditty, like whistling past the graveyard. a solid ghost. today i saw him again. i said to myself: grim—that was a future suicide, already happened. interesting that mister doesn't seem to notice him. maybe he only appears to me. what would the message be. why does he so affect me. he's a mass of impacted molecules spelling grief. i think of jim carroll's song catholic boy, because the grim kid goes in the catholic theological union. he sings, i was a catholic boy, redeemed through pain, not through joy. does pain redeem? what does redeemed even mean? to gain or regain compensation for something—lost joy? to compensate for the faults or bad aspects (of something). his is a bad aspect, is that the aspect of his nature, or is his nature walking dead?
post dat. maybe i have looked like that.