Gemini Horoscope: December 12, 1999:
It might be best to try to prepare yourself for some disappointment today, Gemini. Sometimes a great notion simply goes nowhere, falling on deaf ears, failing to spark enthusiasm. Others are not on your wavelength. It doesn't mean that your idea isn't brilliant. Maybe you just need to approach it from a different angle or find a new slant. Do your best in spite of powerful forces that are indifferent to your goals. Ask a close friend or colleague for advice. Don't get frustrated by what you think are harsh words. Sometimes constructive criticism is hard to take. Tonight's confusion is only a miscommunication between you and your partner.

December 12, 1999:
She was infectious, to say the least. After it was all said and done...it began. She began. While she slept, I could not. She was next to me. I could smell her. Her warmth rose up like the heat from a pot simmering on the stove. I held her as she slipped through my fingers. I cursed myself for wanting her as I did...after I already had her. After I had her, I felt her slipping away. I was losing her as she slept. I rubbed her. I smelled her. I put my finger in her and I tasted the gluey liquid which she secreted...like honey. Like a poison. She stuck to the roof of my mouth. I savored it...her. This smell permeated, sank into everything, all around, into me. Her scent was on me...It was in me. I loved her and she slept beside me. She slept. I did not sleep. I touched her and dreamed of her as she lay there next to me in that bed. I wished for her, even as I had her. I wanted more, even as I had it all. Consuming her whole, it could not have been enough. My thoughts of her were more than she. I pushed up against her ass so long that I blue-balled. It was a sensation like being punched in the stomach. She hit me in that area between my stomach and my cock. I pushed into her. Not into her...against her. She slept. I could not sleep. Every second that ticked past-the need-my demand for her grew stronger. I held her so tight that I could have killed her. I thought of the fact that I could kill her. I held her and I couldn't sleep...while she slept. I watched her chest rise and fall with her breathing. I watched the soft white skin of her cheek with the closeness of a microscope. I wiped some of her gluey liquid onto her panties. I would sniff at them. I would inhale them...later, in remembrance. I never had her. But I had her all the more. I loved her. And she slept.

December 13, 1999: Leute und Freunde:
I must stop expecting so much from the ones I love. Stop expecting them, just because they are my friends, to be interested in everything in which I am interested. I am an exception. I am condemned to walk a lonely road and I should not expect people to also walk that road when they have a choice. They can't always and usually don't understand. I mistakenly think that they will be interested, fascinated by my thoughts, discoveries-the new world that is within their grasp. I try to explain, to show them and I only depress and upset them. They can't see the benefit of becoming upset and depressed while on the way to something better. They can't see that this is what is required. A reasoned argument is only convincing to the truly reasonable, most people just roll their eyes. "You think too much." "What's the point?" "You have to settle." "You have to compromise." "What does it matter?" And I try, at times, to be more like them, to care less, to notice less, to concern myself less with the difficult questions, to not see the connections-the terrible, ugly poetry that is everywhere I look...But I am "eaten by teeth of flame*."-I am cursed to see. * Oscar Wilde: The Ballad of Reading Gaol