Diary of A sad Millennial Faggot 20260630
January 00th 2026
I think it's time to stop saying "fuck it."
I'm pretty sure I'm going to say "fuck it,"
tomorrow and probably the next day and
even the next week and the next month.
Recently my mind has been focused on my mortality -
about the life I've lived and the years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, and even seconds I have left.
At the forefront of this particular cluster
of thoughts is parenthood, lol. My parents had sex in a closet as teenagers in 1984 and unfortunately i was born 9 months later.
At 40 now, I think my ability or the achievability or faintest possibility of having a child has passed me.
But this strange stage of my life, this strange maternal (or paternal for you homophobes) feeling has been present for years
Only recently have i realized that years of drinking and fucking myself into oblivion in search for this has proven fruitless.
hmm...so i think i should stop saying "fuck it."
Somethings just aren't meant to be. Right?
Drinking water for 10 days didn't cure this ache
Drinking water for 14 days didn't cure this ache
Drinking water for 21 days (or more i think) did not change me.
Drinking every alcoholic beverage known to man for 19 years certainly did not help, did it?
What has changed, though, is my desire to move forward and stop saying fuck it. But for the near future, I feel myself saying "fuck it," alot.
April 10 2026
5:45 am
I attempt to watch “J.Ai.Tue.Ma.Mere,” directed by young auteur Xavier Dolan, but for some reason the subtitle file has a lingering delay that only increases and decreases as the film goes on. I take it as a sign that I shouldn’t watch it now. Given the death of my own mother, the title has always worried me. A wonder that only occurred after not before. I saw another of the directors films – spirited and youthful reflections of modern life with a mix of meladroma and the absurd, a combination I’m find of; so I still look forward to seeing the film even with my reservations.
I instead choose to watch “The Wayward Cloud” a Taiwanese film from 2005. My hesitations continue.
April 11th 2026
About a month ago this man who looks like the splitting image of David Cross appeared out of nowhere while I was sitting outside a local library. People rarely interrupt my solitude with friendliness and it was welcome. He had this adorable dog, who seemed immediately comfortable with me and we talked for hours before I left to charge my laptop. I saw him again his morning outside a bus station, but the glare of another dreadful morning (an ongoing private complaint I’ve had for a few years, because of the whole homeless/jobless and the world around me seeming to descend into some form of hell) prevented me enjoying him as much, but again he friendly-ly started another conversation. Unlike the last time, where my horomones questioned if it was romantic or not, this time I realized I’m simply happy to find another person who doesn’t seem full of shit to shoot the shit with. His dog was missing this time, apparently she was impounded after running away from him a few nights before. I hope they’re re-united. ((another reason for my irritation with existing…I’m still thinking like this as a middle-aged bitch…oh the joys of being unemployed, homeless, childless, dickless with nothing else to occupy my time))
April 14th 2026
“Send Help,” the bloody 2026 survivor comedy from Sam Rami (“Evil Dead,” and Drag Me to Hell”) is a centerpiece for actress Rachel McAdams, who plays the much maligned and underappreciated corporate administrative help Linda Liddle for stereotypical frat boy and nepo-baby company president Bradley Preston (played fervently by Dylan Obrien). After being stranded on an island following a plane crash, the duo’s roles are swapped with Linda’s expert wild life survivor interest ( a fan of CBS’s long running “Survivor” no less) as they attempt to survive on a deserted island near Thailand. Like “Young Adult,” “Black Swan,” of the 20-teens, the film plays as a mirror to the “modern woman” struggling at odds with the still deeply misogynist present. In uncapable hands the film’s clever script could’ve easily been a tonally deaf piece of hogwash, however with Rami it is suspenseful, funny, charming…and deeply unnerving.
April 15th 2026
“Law of Desire,” the landmark 1980s drama from auteur Pedro Almodovar remains a relevant and hilarious ode to the soap soaked melodramas of his predecessors ( imagine if “Gentleman Prefer Blondes,” or “Written in the Wind” had gay and transgender characters) featuring standout performances from Almodovar major players Antonio Banderas, Carmen Maura, Rosa De La Palma and a cameo from Veronica Abril.
April 20th 2026
I’ve been court ordered to go to AA and took my second online session today. My favorite of the online seminars I’ve taken so far take place early at 6am. Unfortunately, the shoddy internet connection to a nearby pizza parlor prevented me from hearing the session properly. I spent the rest of the day drinking vodka and listening to music. This mode of finding bliss in hell, has become irritating, but has been one of my few sources of solace unfortunately. My attempts to find a proper rehab have fallen through repeatedly, but I’ll take that as note from the universe to seek outpatient resources…especially considering I was thrown out of one for taking a shower at 3am following a cathartic shit. (in their defense, I yelled “leave me alone, I’m taking a fucking shower,” which surely disturbed the other resting patients). Oh well. It’s also 420.
April 21st 2026
My favorite film of Chantal Akerman’s is her masterpiece “Jeanne Dieleman…” Perhaps the only film in history to make the most menial of daily tasks as enthralling and exciting as a blockbuster car chase; including the preparation of meat loaf from site of purchase to meal. She utilizes the same meticulous gaze in her documentary “News from Home.” The 1976 film, is both a portrait of New York City and a love letter to the city itself and her lovesick mother. Ending before reaching 90 minutes, with a gloomy skyline shot of downtown NYC, I was heartbroken when it cut to black.
April 22nd 2026
Setting “Day of Dead,” in a public high school rather than a mall, takes the zombi-ification of America to new allegorical depths. This is the scenario in 2026 indie horror film “This is Not a Test.” Like a tiny yet reliable race car, the film successfully hearkens to horror films of the 20th century without succumbing to all the pitfalls of recent entries to the zombie sub-genre. Though it eventually teeters on the edge of the typical adolescent melodrama of the past and present, the performances from its young cast and piercingly sharp execution makes what could have been a rote plot memorable.
April 27th 2026
“The Bride,” actor-director Maggie Gyllenhaal’s audacious 2026 interpretation of Mary Shelly’s “Frankenstein” is a bold and audacious take on the book and the mythos surrounding it. Unlike Guerelmo Del Toros’ 2025 lush adaptation and its many predecessors, Gyllenhaal’s film works as a steam punk feminist fever dream with daring performances from chameleon-like actor Christian Bale (“American Psycho,” and “The Dark Knight”) playing the legendary monster and academy award winning actress Jesse Buckley (“Hamnet,” and “Men”) as his amnesiac bride. The schizophrenic and infectious dark fun, which also includes film greats Penelope Cruz, Annette Benning, Peter Sarsgaard and Jake Gyllenhaal, makes me wonder if fellow fans would joyously return to theaters to root for the wonderfully likeable and tragic dead duo in cult fashion, as I’d love to. Bravo.
April 28th 2026
I’ve gotten to the terrible habit of smoking again. Except now it’s especially gross because I travel to areas where there are smoke trays available and “re-use” used cigarettes. Like many things in the recent seven years, like my ridiculous alcohol habit, it’s another thing to not be fond of. I literally wretch while picking up these cigarettes because…it is what it is.
May 18th 2026
My laptop was stolen late last month – I was sitting outside the downtown library office. Earlier in the day I was working at a library in another town...and at some point the voices of the people in the library began to get loud, which typically angers me because I love to go there typically for the assurance I a quiet zen place. The situation made me drink, a lingering problem that's only managed to get worst the longer I've been outside, and I left for another facility. The recent pattern is I typically go to a library and drink outside until I get the balls to go inside and risk the usual interpreted antagonism, but while going to get some second hand cigarettes, a disturbingly gross recent habit, I came back and the backpack with my laptop was gone. But I had a burrito and a full bottle of vodka waiting for me at least. I guess they wanted to leave me something to deliver some comfort. Assholes. I highly doubt it's the same people, but the same thing has happened repeatedly over the past few years. I for some reason always recollect myself and replace the laptops and books. But dear god, I wish they would steal the food and alchol instead. Oh good holy Samaritans – I hope your god blesses you for your sincerity and hard work.
May 31st 2026
It's the last day of the month. I hope for a better June.
June 6th 2026
Have you ever felt like the people around you are purposefully positioning walls and gates around you? Spending the past seven years mostly alone with my own thoughts, I've rationally disected all my mistakes and wins from my adult life...and finaly had a space to revisit all these feelings and memories. A few months ago I decided to go to rehab for drinking myself to oblivion. Though the day I decided to contact these resources, my phone was stolen. Rather than going to a local library or use my laptop to search for my phone; I simply went to buy another one. When I finally got to space to search for the phone online, at a library – I saw that the phone was placed in a gated culdsac, that clearly has a NO TRESPASSING sign. A few weeks earlier a kid, maybe 18 or 19 years old, followed me along the route I usually take to the place I usually rest. I usually rest there, or attempt to, because it's surrounded by cameras (so it feels secure, after having my items stolen repeatedly for the past few years). This kid yelled this is no tresspassing, or something like that – and usually when a metaphor of these gates and walls appears, I just simply respoind – kiss my black ass. The troubling thing, though, is I feel like the phone being thrown into the gated space was done on purpose. A few weeks earlier someone had called the police to remove me from a library...for sleeping there. So I know...that these imaginary walls and gates, would have called the police the moment I'd attempt to get the phone.
I've hit the moment where I've realized these walls and gates...are sort of not in my head. It's not paranoia...it's real. So how do I remove myself from this space. That's where I am now. Unfortunately, my way of coping with it is drinking and essentially...attempting to kill myself. Not doing that again. I'm ready to move on. Dear Universe. I will move forward. Dear Universe, you can continue to kiss my black ass. With love.
June 20th, 2026
I don't want to be here another second. There doesn't seem to be a reason to be here other than mockery...it's no longer paranoia. It's clear. I love you more than another second...and that will never be enough.
June 21st, 2026
It's father's day. Happy Father day Dad...I miss you even more with every waking moment.
June 30th, 2026
I've been attempting to read Susan Sontag's Reborn Journals since last Spring, however my repeatedly stolen and mysteriously damaged cell phones and laptops have prevented me from completing the read. I think I even had a hard copy of it at some point, lol. Anyway. There's a section in 1957 I believe that she recalls memories from her childhood into adulthood. What an interesting exercise that would be, I thought. For the past few years, I've grown weary of access to my own memories because of the damage caused by my present...and have been eager to return to writing. I wrote three musicals in 2023 and family drama. So much free time. The notion of writing down notes on my past has been haunting me. Ugh, here's my go at it. Thank you Miss Sontag.
1-5
My oldest memory is probably in my mother and fathers apartment on Belmont street in Detroit...on the west side. My mother and her sister were watching television with me and I remember looking frantically for my hat and them laughing behind me; only to realize my hat was firmly tied to my tiny head.
Even with all my toys, making more dolls out of straws. Cutting sides to make arms and legs. And using tissue for their gowns. I'd beg my mother to buy the straws that bend because I could cut the top of the staw off to give the dolls hair.
My mother dropping me off at kindergarten. I still remember a strange tension between the teacher and me, she was excellent...but never very kind to me and particular. It never bothered me, but it's a feeling I've never forgotten.
Being obsessed with Janet Jackson even more than Michael, and knowing the Control dance...which my mom always mocked me for , firmly into adulthood. Apparently I had a wandering eye (can't remember if it was my left or right) and it always made her laugh when I'd do the arm and shoulder dance.
Waking up with my giddily inebriated family at my grandfathers house on New Years 1990 and everyone toasting with champagne. I always thought I was drunk, but have since realized my aunt must have given me seltzer with apple juice...but I pretended anyhow. I chose to be Fred Sanford from Sanford and Son, and everyone laughed at my fake Fred Sanford drunkenness. My aunt and I slept that night to the Jeffersons, Sanford and Son...and I think I awoke in the morning to I Love Lucy being on at around 4:30 or 5am. It was an analog TV and at a certain time color bars would come up during the early morning and Lucy would inturupt this...eventually signaling to me that it was almost time to wake up.
Having to choose to see Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or stay home with my aunt and watch Child's Play on HBO. I chose the later and as soon as I got home from the screening, the credits for Child's Play (or Chucky as we called it?) were rolling. My aunt had made pop corn and knew I was just as excited for Tales from the Crypt with the Crypt Keeper. She allowed me to stay up to watch it with her. I'm sure I fell asleep as I typically do with horror films late at night to this very day.
My aunt and some of my mom's other siblings walking to visit another relative by foot from our house, and a strange teenage boy screaming - “What's Up Mike Mike,” and me not knowing who he was. This happened the entire time we lived in the neighborhood – that young man in particular. I still find it odd and will never forget it...because I genuinely didn't understand how someone knew me outside of my family and the small group of people my family allowed me to be around.
Having a Coming to America rat tail that grew down to my back, and randomly deciding to be a big boy and cutting it with scissors in the bathroom. Proudly showing the long braided piece of hair to my aunt, and her seeming to be slightly hurt by it.
6-10
Christmas 1991 is one of my fondest memories. Perhaps my fondest memory. My mother and all her siblings. My aunt with her new born all imbibing in each others company and a Christmas tree full of gifts for everyone. And later food from my grandmothers house.
Sitting in my the stairwell at my grandfather's house and thinking about the little mermaid trailer and the movie Death Becomes Her...but I think the other movie was actually She-Devil. Havent fact check which one – but it would've been the film produced within the same three to six month period as Mermaid. I'd recreate trailers from movie's like this with my body and my toys. What a weirdo. Did this throughout my childhood.
The feeling that someone could break into our house and always finding a place to hide whenever I moved, or visited a friend or family member for the night. Had the thought when I moved to Ann Arbor, to New York, Los Angeles and every vacation spot in between.
My aunt and a neighbor obviously recognizing that I needed to spend more time with people (boys in particular) my age, and setting up visits between me and a boy my age. I remember we both liked the teenage mutant ninja turtles. He had most of the group and I think I had Splinter or something. He was Kaldian. Probably the first non black group of people I spent time with before going to grade school. I imagine he's married with kids by now and maybe even has grandkids.
Being obsessed with Brandy, Monica, En Vogue and Whitney Houston. My mother's boyfriend would ridicule me and say Whitey wears wigs, and I felt offended for her and always said she didn't. (( The power of sexism and patriarchy on the small brain..really makes ya think right?))
In third grade, I remember we had free time and we would do mini talent shows for each other. When the substitute teacher arrived he began to ask what we really wanted to be when we grow up. Can't remember what the other kids said, but I do remember I said I wanted to be a doctor and a singer...something I often said when asked that. The teacher responded, “Oh we got a little Luther in the house.” One of my male classmates responded - “more like a Toni Braxton.” Another formative figure from my childhood.
