[I]f we believed in a free press, why were we supporting Yeltsin, whose buddies murdered reporters in bundles? Russians believed in us deeply when I first went there—they believed in all the Radio Liberty propaganda. Having a blue passport made me a hero in 1990 Leningrad. By 1999 we were considered swindlers, and a big part of Putin’s rise was that he was seen as a nationalist standing up to the West.

—Matt Taibbi

No pude resistirme decirle «te quiero» e inmediatamente me lo arrepentí. A pesar de lo «no pudimos querernos bien», ella nunca me lo ha correspondido. Always awkward silences.

Aún no he podido llorar, but this whole thing is leaving me way sadder than I thought

“Vuelve mi amor”

A few minutes to write in the stillness of morning, flying out tonight, not feeling much except a little stressed about the logistics.

La tortuguita me dijo que quiere morir y que no aborde el avión.

Well, it's been an exciting and enlightening week of fascinating revelations all around

Quiero poder sentir plenamente lo que sentía con ella pero todo lo demás me distrae

Came last night with ariadnæ—sort of sin querer (me tocaba pero no quería acabar sin la nenita; I wasn’t really in a position I could try to detenerlo una vez que empezó and tbh she had made Me super-hard two nights running); felt like I was being a softie by indulging her pero al final she moaned so loud and long I felt like it was probably worth it—and am now feeling somewhat indifferent, like she’s older, not as hot aunque da morbo, more of a pain, more likely to fracasar espectacularmente, etc. But then I remember the ansia/anguish I felt when I felt like I was losing her and figure I’ll just never be happy.

Actually suddenly finding myself not caring about much + I’m blaming the lack of sleep

ariadnæ dismissing Me with a shrug, la nenita blatantly defying Me… all while obsessing about how la tortuguita’s getting used.

Called her phone just out of curiosity—can’t find her cell number in my in-box, of course I lost it with all her voice mails. Her machine answered—can’t believe how hard my heart was beating… even on mute with *67.

I’ll figure something out

I always do

I guess that’s what it comes down to. On any given day I’d rather be posting to reddit about Dominican baseball or trying to write a letter in Latin than looking for work.

Listened to this TAL and didn’t want to break down crying in the parking lot and now I’ve got a headache.

“The days are long but the years are short” has never seemed truer.

Like of Montreal’s line, “just slept way too much.” The idea is that I want to throw myself into something to forget/not think about it. But I can’t throw myself into anything, can never reach a state of flow because of constantly intruding depressive thoughts.

I just want to lie down and sleep so they go away.

Last week, after being so caught up in the run-up to Christmas, and being so proud of myself for actually having money for gifts this year and having my shit together, I lost all my voicemails, including all the saved ones from ariadnæ. Gutted.

current mood:

I don’t know how long I thought they’d wait… Actually, no, knowing ariadnæ I guess I thought it would be months, if not years… but it was probably already months in the making

How many should’ve-been-work days have I dedicated to instructing this slut or waiting on her e-mails?

She replied. Can’t believe how hard my heart’s pounding.