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[Aug. 29th, 2008|08:50 pm] |
Once again i find myself in a dimly lit coffee shop, huddled over the glow of this screen; a bike ride in the wind, the night is navy blue and the wind is moist with a cold mist and tells me that my twenty fourth fall is officially upon me. I ride alone; an adventure back to a place the spring within me wanted to excape...yet I can't stop myself from returning, a voice is calling me, I wonder if it is the spirit of the season or merely some willing within me towards the sadness I need to soak my feet in in order to feel like myself. I need to return to this place in order to figure out what this silent illness within me consists of, what the source of this pain is that resides within me still. I need to put the hot lamp in the culprit's face and make him sweat under the light until he confessess to all the ways he's been condemning my soul to plight.
There's an animal within all of us, a criminal within all of us, there's a poet within all of us, there's a lover within all of us. we simple minded humans dichotomize the identities within our individual selves, to be accurate in our classification we would need to recognize the reality that accompanies any pursuit of accurately identifying the multiude of selves withint our bones and skin...for it would truly be an idiot's mission to set out to finally catch up with infinity.
Hesse saw two voices, two beings in himself; the wolf and the sad lonely man, only to realize what a fool he was for assuming his insides could be so simply dichotomized, a wolf, and a man; mere words to label, feeble attempts to conceptualize the conflicting people we are from moment to moment, that lead to inward battles that seemingly will never cease so long as we're still striving starvers.
I ask myself why I can love her some mornings, some nights, and why her aches and pains can mean nothing to me when I hold her tightly while she screams; all the different ways her presence has felt to me.... some days I am hollow and empty, and on these days the achievements that amaze me when I am intellectual seem like impossible feats. I ask myself why I can't bring myself to love her in the morning; I ask myself why I can't bring myself to speak to her on the phone in the same loving tone that she's grown accustomed to..at least on days when my heart has her say, days when her voice is louder than any of the other savages' screams within me.
Freud saw that there were three motivational forces within us, three beings; the animal, the conformist, and the manager. Schopenhauer saw that there was only one true thing within us; the will, that which desires, that which desires not; the voice of need, the yearning, the bunring desire to hold or to avoid...to him then, it was pretty simple, there are stimulus, there are situations, and the will knows what it wants, it either says yes or no to cetain things...i want, or I don't want.....you feel it in the morning when you force yourself to wake from sleep and are grumpy...that's the will's way of saying, 'dammit man let me sleep!'....But the smarter we get, the more rational and moral we become, the less connected we become with our true voice, our true yearning....we become interpreter's of a foreign language, relying on emotion and feeling mostly to signify what path the truth within us really has in mind.
So then, what can I learn from these men in my current plight?...well, absolutely nothing. i am dealing with my own real life. If I am to udnerstand...which is a meaningless, tragic pursuit anyway, that never fails to leave one in a state of isolation; understanding is loneliness. Loving with the heart is happiness...but happiness gets boring, and you start to wonder what it is that your brain has been ignoring in pursuit of simpler pleasures, more bodily pleasures.
I begin to dissect the urges within me when she tells me she just wants me to believe that I belong, when she tells me that she just wants to be able to stay close to me. I being to listen closely to the voices arguing inside the walls, streteched out skin over a framework of bones., I press my ear to the wall and listen to the urges in an attempt to decipher the various aching animals and intellectuals trapped within my soul. I then begin to label the beings as they appear to me in an attempt to paint the picture of the civil war constantly occurring within me; a thousand individual's crammed into a one bedroom apartment located in the center of my chest. Anyone who's ever cared enough to think about why they feel, or what it is that they feel and ultimately believe in will know the difficulty of attempting to hear what the voices are saying when their constantly talking over top of one another and interupting eachother.
I shall call my body's meanest little ugly cell dweller, the Ego, for I know the sound of his angry voice which rings with entitlement as it echoes of these little walls. His biggest foe is my heart.... the war is always occuring between him and her, the two of them like one time lovers who had too many children before they had the means to provide for all of them. Now they just argue in their little crowded apartment, despising their existence with each new day which destroys all hope for resolution upon the very moment they wake from sleep into their little hell of conflicting ideals. Oh my female heart; female, stereotypically only, for the way she is so eager to love and to hold, to give everything away to and to nurture all that feels pure. The ego refuses to overlook that which she would gladly turn a blind eye to if it meant she could just bring a child to laughter, or hold onto the one she loved for as long as she wanted to. The civil war within; leaves me breathless and speechless,.....My attempts to articulate to her the suffering of this struggle could never suffice to bring about clarity. I just want to run and hide from her, walk over the bridge and let her watch me die, then my heart says no no no, she will cry. To think, that the ego, so proud, so hurt and wounded from his wife doesn't even see, would be willing to burn down the very building he calls his home.
And what can she do to calm him down? And what can she do to make this ending happy for him?...She can do nothing. He can do nothing. The state of the things shall remain. Things are the way they are, thus, he is left to dwell in his own little hell for as long as she continues to tell him she loves him, for as long as he continues to wish that he could believe her. Me and her that is, not the talk between my tiny voices.
What makes it so hard, so impossibile for me to feel like I can have you? even as I type it out... the ego within me wishes to write, 'it is a foolish question to even ask since it is blatantly clear that her heart is never anything you could fully possess';... despite her insistence on the devoted nature of her love for me. The ego within me refuses to believe, all the while my heart, she tugs on the ego's sleeve from pant from her knees, too weak and wobbly with loneliness to stand she pleads for him to allow her to escape this hell that they'll surely share with one another until the day the body they both reside within will die. 'Please' she pleads, 'I swear this one means every word she speaks', he says 'no, regardless of the beauty she can sometimes speak, I refuse to let my baby bleed, not for someone who has already given her life away to another man.' He is such a proud man, an alcoholic who loves his own story too much to let it be taken over by a picture he has laughed at others for painting themselves into. He insists on not allowing me to be a fool like I have thought those others to be... he tells me to look at the road I'm on with honest rational eyes, to cover my ears the next time I'm within range of her passional loving cries,...he tells me , 'close your eyes when she lets you inside her house and tries to trap you in her gaze until the moments leading up have unified the both of you.
The proud ego and the lonely heart have a friend; the perceiver who sees...yesterday he saw the source of the shadow that's been sheathing this body in a sorrow since he met her, since the heart decided to love her; there on the grass, a real life body carting around the one they'll forever share with one another. The baby that ties her closer to another man, so the ego within me will apparantly always believe; He will never allow me to forgive her fully for her ties to another man, for even the heart's most persuasive arguments can only temporarilly sway the jury within my ego, for the contradictions that such a life she argues for ensure the impossibility of ever silencing the members given their rudimentary principles, their rules of integrity so to speak....... freedom, pride, desire, rationality, independence above all else.
The jury within my ego, they always ultimately return with the same verdict....return to your slow burning in solitude; grow a beard as testament to the lack of feelings you hold for social fires...as testament to your lack of suitability for any normal role within this city you see when you roam these streets....one day you will die, but at least the fire of loneliness and lovelessness will have hung inside right until the bitter end....My heart cries, 'but what about her?'...can she not come with us, she is a true friend....' The ego pounds down with his wooden hammer, and sternly sentences my heart to die, on a day undetermined in the not to distant future....'It is with me and only me that you will ever find yourself in company!....She will trick you foolish heart....she will make a destroy our house and home; our family name will go down in shame....a sulky stepfather who'll swear to love another's child in order to remain close to the one that you claim to love! YOU foolish heart have grown so accustomed to need her in every way, to long for her ears to hear the words we say, without her we no longer see the purpose in anything!...oh what a fool you have tried to make of me!...Of this home we share!!... Loving and longing for her body with such an infantile dependency!....look what she has made of this place we share.....A step father?...is that not where this road will lead?....an unappreciated sucker who protects other treasures and swears he will shine another man's shoes...and for what?....all because of your love....should we place your love above everything else?....FOOLISH HEART....I sentence you to death.'
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 20th, 2007|09:25 pm] |
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what a fucking joke. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 17th, 2007|03:59 pm] |
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listenin to steve wonder |
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| sad and happy |
[Jul. 24th, 2006|03:39 pm] |
fucking miserable, i wake up and feel nothing, not even crazy, or nervous, or afraid, just this blank feeling, well i guess it does feel like something, like Im nothing, that's what it feels like, like for the past weeks ive just been this ghost getting blown around in the wind. I've been wanting to feel things way too badly, and trying not to need things; but wanting to feel things became a need itself. God my philosophies are so demented and destructive these days, way too fucking simple to ever really be applied to life, yet Im out there day and night with a few simple words that are supposed to make it seem alright...DONT NEED THINGS, JUST FEEL THINGS. Take that with you, put it in your pocket and just enjoy the ride..? Is that what I expect to happen, I dont even fucking know anymore, all I know is that I've slept in until 330 on my one and only day off and starting tomorrow Ill be working 7 days in a row all over again...yay yay, where's my life?...i dont have one, maybe that's why feeling things is my one and only goal, because I dont have any pleasure sensors anymore...it's like the sun and the heat and the dishwater have burned my skin so bad that my nerve endings have all just dissolved away and left me to feel grey all over and all the time... like some old man wasting away at some dank old factory who mindlessly works to support some financial need that humans are told to base their lives around...he's got all the money he needs but he just keeps working, cause everything else out there in the world confuses him..while the beautiful boys and summer girls are out there on the beach smiling and laughing and knowing how to feel thigns without ever even having to try...he's wasting his entire life without ever feeling a thing...I bet the kids never even knew it was possible to not feel things, I sure didn't when i was a kid, and wow how it comes to mind how much i've been wishing I was the ten year old tim again so much lately, always so focused and knowing what was right or wrong, always so fucking focused. i was looking at family photographs at a reunion, of gatherings in the past and in almost every shot you see this little kid with a big head squinting off at something so seriously and knowingly, man how could HE have had it all figured out?...I remember what it felt like to be that kid all the time in the form of weird dreamy flashes where I recall exactly what my mind and existence felt like in that particular moment. Im jealous of that kid in so many ways, he never doubted a thing and never doubted himself. I thought it would only get clearer as I got older, but the only thing that gets clearer is how so many of the things that you had in your life are no longer there, and that maybe things don't feel right without those things; i won't get into those though cause i'd be up all night.
I need a week, I need a month, I need a year to myself, for myself, to find myself again, god Im so lost, where have I been?...I'm so needy it's not even funny, Im needing to feel things and not to need things...it doesnt make sense at all, which is why it just doesn't work. People seem to still know me though and I find it so peculiar, Ill have people come up to me and say "hey timmy", "hows' it going bro", "TIMMY!"...things like that, like at work or at a bar, people seem to think they know who this character is that I am, and I find it such a strange feeling because I have no clue who this guy is that they're referring to as me...most of the time I just want to look at those people and say..."tim's not here, he's been gone for a few weeks now."...but it does feel good inside to think that some people know me and actually have warm feelings towards me... I feel like this imposter, like somebody in a movie who wakes up in someone else's body; the only difference in my case is that rather than trying to find all my old friends to explain to them that it's still me in some new body, so that they'll accept the new me and help me throught his zany ordeal, I'm here reliving things that tim's body used to, to try to figure out who he is, Im trying to live my body's life, getting bits and pieces and trying to put the puzzle together, but it all falls apart when something new comes in, and just how should new and old pieces fit together, are you the old tim or the new tim?...I'll remember the way I once felt, I'll remember a good day, and say yeah, that's who he'd want you to be, but then I'll remember a bad day and that's who I will feel instantly become. I want to be the kid again, cause that was when it all made sense, but then i think about all those lessons i've learned, were they all for nothing?...and wont I inevitably just have to learn them all over again if I go back to being that kid?...It worries me how a gust of wind can just come and pick me up like this and throw me wherever it pleases, losing contact with the ground is the scariest feeling, you can feel it in your stomach as you lift and drop...Im a ghost getting blown around in the wind.
so all i do is smile for the cameras and hope that it all works out, that my soul will come back to me before everyone notices its lost, cause I'm sweating under these lights, I never was cut out for acting anyways. Am I acting or am i just putting myself in places where it used to be easiest to feel things, good things and bad things, but enjoying the fact that I was feeling things still...Im struggling with this role, Im not loving my character like I once used to, and if you dont love the character your playing than everything is so easily undermined, there's nothing at all, no feelings of good or bad, because to you, you're just nothing, not WHO you are, you're just this blank hole with eyes, you see the smiles and the faces that recognize you, but you're not you, to you you're nobody, so nothing feels like anything, nobody loves you because you don't love you. Until your soul can sink back into your skin you're never gonna feel a thing, it tears you apart doesn't it, that tomorrow you'll start the cycle all over again without ever even getting a chance to figure out where your soul has disappeared to?...put on your smiley face though cause the cameras will be rolling bright and early.
Seems 'I' gets switched for 'you' when the reality content gets too heavy to digest maybe, not very scholarly...who the fuck cares...all i know is while Im trying not to care about anything or need anything, Im caring a lot and needing more than ever, my whole problem is that Im trying not to care so that I can attain what I claim to not care about; feelings, good ones mostly. It's just foolish, the only way it will all make sense is if my soul comes back, COME BACK WHEREVER YOU ARE, I'm drifting alone and drying up inside more every time something doesn't rub me right. There's just so much to break this heart out there, it's too much to ever even leave the house...oooh oooh ooh ooh nobody loves you.
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I go for a drive, out for about an hour and things start to feel sort of right, maybe because I've put the words onto a pad and free'd them from the swirling cycle in my head. I take three envelopes with me into ben thanh's to get out what I'm thinking and for ten minutes straight I;m scribbling away with my head down, only to look up and realize that I've got a little bit of an audience, I put my head down and continue, a few moments later i look up and see more people watching me, one person, an asian dude that I work with and kind of know, is looking at me with a concerned look on his face, we make direct eye contact and both look away, maybe it was me who looked away first, I didn't really recognize him right away maybe, but at first I thought he looked away before me....hmmm. Either way he definitely looked at me like a stranger when our faces met, so we said nothing at all.
I was writing a lot about how I had seemingly found a truth that made it all seem okay, it became rather clear to me all of a sudden that I had always been the same, hever happier nor sadder at any moment along the way. I had always been a sid kid, a sad boy, and now was perhaps a sad man. It was a good feeling though, I felt sort of warm all over. I was mistaken to think I was so much happier back then, when I was always feeling dreary inside and constantly wondering why about way too many things in life; I was always thinking a lot but somehow I always found the bright side of everything, or something silly to keep things positive, but for whatever reason, it's been a lot more challenging lately, I've been failing to find that new secret. I'm a lamp in need of a bulb. I've used the idea that life is only worth while if you appreciate the few clear moments, and I still hold onto that idea dearly, but it doesn't work for much anymore it seems, my brain has found a way to undercut all conclusions, when there's YES YES YES, there's quickly a NO NO NO, I can just say that it's all so pretty and beautiful if you just look at that way, that conclusion seems like a stop far past on a train going way too fast.
But I feel okay and good as I sit there and right away on my pad and paper, I feel like i can actually hear my voice when i say thank you to the woman; I meant that thank you. I realize that it feels like me to see what I see and think about what I think about. I see things everywhere in the form of brutal realities that meet me at every turn; wherever i go I'm seeing truths that weaken my heart and keep my eyes empathetic. I'm sad that my grandma and aunt kae will soon be dying. I'm sad that my face is always reflecting my insides. I'm sad that no-one seems to blink an eye when they break another's heart. Im sad for the obese drunk woman on the corner with a smoke in her hand who's missing all her top teeth, lisping as she swears into the wind at some man she's loved forever as he walks away and ignores her, some slob in an oaklnd raiders hat and neon green shorts, but you can tell by the intensity that he is her king; that, or they're really drunk, alcohol can make things seem a lot bigger than they are. I'm sad for that fat woman because she's never known my kind of life. My skin fits right though when it's barely holding in all my sad thoughts, I know no other way, and you'd be able to see the comfort in my face. Smiles don't feel the same for me without tears on the verge, but then again maybe i just have really high standards; perhaps it's likely that that is when we are all truly happiest. It's only kind I've ever truly related to and understood, if I seek some other kind of happiness I lose my understanding of love, of passion, or laughter, and living a life is so much easier than being that actor.
It occurs to me why I havent been satisified with anything in a long time, I've been searching for something that I thought I had lost, but in reality had never owned in the first place. I was like some senial dog who swears he dug his bone behind the shed and everyone gets a kick out of watching him bang his head. Im feeling relieved to remember that the bone was never what I wanted to look for anyways, it's seems clear to me now that what i needed out of life was my own and not some simple and easy bone. |
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| a second long surge to leave you icky for days. |
[Jul. 17th, 2006|10:44 pm] |
Im stoned and dead but bed feels like a waste of life, just like the work i'll be doing tomorrow as soon as i wake, or the poisons I've been taking to kill my thoughts. The sun hasn't been brightening my eyes since the last time we said goodbye, the kid has been locked inside like some grounded boy in a dark basement, down there forever for being a fool, he stays in the basement and feels nothing but this overwhelming desperation to one day again see daylight. If it were only that simple though, if I were that kid i would at least be able to see the light once I escaped from the basement, a physical restraint seems more gratifying, there's hope, but when it's all around and right in front of your face and you still can't see it, then you've got something to worry about.
I can't watch anything without the tiny voices talking away in my ear and completely ruining the movie, those fucking tiny voices rattling around and tying me down. enjoyment is something only allowed to occur when i am at one with with my current conception of life. I laugh at those weak little voices when Im in power, but they've been dominating for a few weeks. My head is numb tonight from the shit that I've been shovelling down, and i feel dumber than ever. I'm looking for answers in all the wrong places and living in the world for all the wrong reasons. The voices tell a story and paint a picture to me that I've never been familiar with, to feel inadequate at decoding your own life on a daily level makes me like I am gone, can't be excited about, or content with.
The me without is an oversensitive clown who misses and cries too much, and needs every reassurance he can get while snapping at what makes him feel like the world is starting to turn too fast for him to ever re-grasp that belief in beauty that he once thought made it all worth while. I look into people's eyes and wish to look away instantly, there's an abyss behind these eyes, my soul has gone missing, it's been sneaking away since the day i was born and now it's finally ran away for good Im afraid, like some cat that's been getting out and getting better food from somewhere else and probably will never come home again, when it's gone all you can think of is how good it was to just have it around.
Im somewhere I've never been now, my skin isn't fitting right these days, Im constantly wondering what Im doing it all for, I don't feel pleasure, I just feel a need to do things to keep myself from combusting, I hate that my demeanor alone is giving away all my secrets, it's like every night I'm out there, I'm spreading my lousiness to anyone present, even though i don't know if it shows, Im disconnected from it all, I'm convinced that when i Open my mouth and spitting nothing but shit out, this person doesn't feel like me, because I can usually feel more than this, it's all so fucking new to me, but it isn't at all, so how fucked is all of this... I've been planting these shitty seeds everywhere, the more I plant today the more likely the trees will be there tomorrow to forever ensure that I remain stricken to darkmess in their unescapable shade.
I want to hear the song and feel the fire, but I can't stop thinking about shitty things. Until I can let go or grab on, my performance will never be believable or anything but awkward for the audience; I've been sweating under these lights. I'm nervous before I speak, or when i see a face I know...when anticipating a confrontation, Im pacing back and fourth. .
People everywhere have been leaning in to me hear speak these days, "what's that?"..."sorry?", as if it wasn't gutwrenching enough the first time.... customers, employees at subway, anywhere I go, anyone I know, my volume is low, I can't explain it. A lot of the time I open my mouth to speak and nothing comes out but a cracking sound, been needing to gulp and take a breath before I can make a sound, fucked up, Im getting quieter by the second, the strangest thing it really is, how sadness consumes your body faster than any disease I know of, and with what peculiar symptoms. People don't want to talk to someone who's losing their mind, so I do the best I can and pretend, pretending to be strong when you're weak is a boxers best trick, the only problem is it's hard to start pretending in the twelvth when you've been getting pummelled for eleven and now everybody knows your weaknesses cause you've been fighting too poorly. I'm trying though, harder than ever, and the longer I stay this actor out on a stage, it seems my true character slips away and away...I count minutes 'til the end of the day, and can't wait to be home alone to sit and sleep, and close my eyes. My heart palpatates as I twist and turn to find a position where I won't feel it so much. I put on movies that made me laugh only to stare with unfocused eyes for large portions of time; then I realize that it's happening again, I'm that prisoner of my mind.
God today has been the hardest day of my life it feels like, I'm not satisfied with anything that's going on, you tell me what I need to hear, so I'll go with it from there for your sake, there's too much to worry about and I just want my life to feel normal again, i would give a finger to feel boredom. My nerves are shot, and I dont wanna play this game anymore, Im sick of faking smiles and maintaining all day long, maintain maintain!! let me sit this one out.
I want to be the summer kid with unlimited energy and drive to go outside, but Im stuck in winter where it's cold and unforgiving and dark by dinner... keep the blinds closed normy so daddy can close his eyes, like I've been working a nine to five at a factory and my wife is dead and now Im stuck with this little crazy kid...FIND ME AND SAVE ME I ask though I don't know who im talking to, though I thank those for letting me lean on you.
I am lost and burning away into a lonely conscious state where doom is what lies in the distance, not security or comfort or a filled passenger seat with a familiar face, and comfortable silence with another, I've thrown away things I miss for this miserableness... resentment is truly what represents this current chapter; resentment for me, resentment for you...I resent everyone for everything; they're whores for an invisible currency that consistantly eludes me...and sometimes most of them just strike me as arrogant fools. I know enough at the end of the day though, to only blame myself, and that makes it that much harder to get a good night's sleep, ...I once understood something, it was making someone else feel happy, and that felt right, righter than what they're all biting at, where's the director, I have so many questions... what's my motivation for this scene? seems a little stupid to cast drama in a slapstick comedy.
I begin to use this as my personal slave whose main job is to listen to me bicker and complain about this nothingness I feel I've become as of late. i tell myself it's time to stop because it only makes things worse; reading words for feelings that i've been dealing with all week, because Im describing a place i wish to never come back to if I ever escape. For whatever reason i just haven't been able to let go this time, I feel i have to prove something to myself, but I just don't know what it is, or why I'm not proving it already. The only way I will ever walk with my head up, with eyes to eyes is if I am able to know that what I'm doing is what I need to be doing, and it just hasn't felt that way at all, i'm waiting for the feeling to hit me, but all that's hitting me is this devastating wave of blankness, and a loss of feeling in the heart or maybe I've just been wearing it on my sleeve too much lately and something just doesn't sit right when you're constantly exposed and not playing it cool. Im looking for a street I know to steer me home; lost in my head, remembering only the good things and feeling like a ghost getting blown around in the wind. |
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[Jul. 14th, 2006|03:45 pm] |
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...and the truth is that I miss you... all day over and over again, on repeat in my head like some mantra guaranteed to maintain a constant state of depression and anxiety... sweating buckets of beers and shots of vodka, cursing myself for not bringing water to work, my throat to dry to swallow, thinking about one thing that's had me trapped inside me head all week... fuck this and fuck that... I don't know what Im thinking anymore, starting to feel less comfortable in my skin the longer I stay away, seems Im not totally sure of who I am of I dont feel like Im a good person at heart cause that was one of the things I always tried to be, all im thinking is that I miss her more than she does me, or at least that's how my brain would have it seem...I can't get out of my head, all i want is to stay in bed and watch tv and hear myself laugh, instead it's work work work and nobody seems to realize that Im losing my shit more and more....to ask someone to empathize is truly a monumental request because sensitivity isn't fun, everyone's too caught up in this one big lie where everyone paints the prettiest picture of themselves to show it off to the world, i don't know why, I dont see the fullfillment just quite yet, that's how it used to be with you and me. They'll spread their legs for a new fresh face, and they'll die without fresh faces every day, just like a church needing charity, everbody seems to need donations of kind words and loving gestures. So here I am dreading the reality that I'll be doing dishes all weekend for some borgeoisie cheapskates while the world loves and lives without me...it wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't stuck in my head, I could find the right place to be, even in that place; my eyes are slowly closing and Im losing sight of what's around, and all i really want to do is hug my cat like some lonely middle aged woman in a musty old apartment, and that woman's tired life strikes me as a sad and rather unfulfilling existence. |
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| why does it seem that only my cat understands me. |
[Apr. 27th, 2006|05:28 am] |
what to say what to say
has the question all along been where do you belong?
I contemplate the notion of solitude with a pad and a pen but then reality strikes me again..I could never make it alone, seems that both ways I'm doomed to depression, one through isolation and loneliness and the other through minsunderstood interactions that leave me without any sort of ME to rely on. My emotional system isn't built to last like everyone else's it seems. It fails me daily, along with my insatiable need to find a reason for waking up most of the time, or a reason for holding on to certain ties in life when perhaps such relationships are what hold me away from my true self, not you, for I can be myself with you, maybe, I don't know who that is though...which is why fiji sounds nice.. alone on an island it may come to me, what I was seeking all along....Too bland still?....yes, well maybe this helps...you can call me crazy, call me foolish for caring, call me insecure....I may be all of these things for their meanings might certainly apply to this guy that I am..but to me I am none of these things while still all of them; capable of opposites at any given time.....sometimes I prefer to simply understand myself as overly empathic, and mostly misunderstood due to nervous conjestion when trying to be true to the soul in public situations; though the truer I am, the more honest I am, it seems the more I realize I'm a lot less like I used to be...now misunderstood to a point where sadness becomes inevitable and increasing the more articulate I grow, because the more I seem to know to myself with whatever bullshit theories I develop, the less I can settle into the "FLOW" (gm).
The flow we speak of, is my answer to happiness. To me that's all that there can be, is an empty slate where good times roll onward, without anything but your soul and your fellow drifters to provide a continuity through life. To me, there need not be anything but the flow in order to truly succeed in life...yes a homeless person could seem like a genius...there simply is an ease of mind when all is simply occurring out of control and one is at peace with his endless drift down the river., if in fact he is truly at peace, otherwise he's a fool like the rest of us until he settles wholeheartedly onto the nothingness conclusion.
Incomplete interpretations; don't take my words for anything less than what they're worth. Listen to me squeal like a whiney little pig, my life means nothing, the world unintelligable...why does this make it so? The world that is.... I go on with these feelings of absurdity when I see what only brings out the morbid nature of reality, so meaningless and structured around consumption, did we ever question a god damned thing along the way? I go on without any form of answer, I celebrate on my birthday when I'm told to though there's bigger issues in mind, like the fact that we will all die. All I can do is tell those who I know that I will love them after we all stop breathing....or at least until i do.
Incomplete interpretations; instant reconciliation becomes my main and only need, understand me correctly and fully or I will kill myself tomorrow, I can't be anything other than what I'm supposed to be for me, but that person is only known to me as long as my words don't speak the truth of ME. How pure can anyone be?...can you break it all away and swear your soul is pure?...can you swear to me that there is just YOU and ME and nothing in between? I speak what I say, and I say what my brain tells me to, I react accordingly despite what deliberations may occur, this is me but not me, ask afterwards and I'll tell you which parts represtented ME, and which parts were a result of the situation, which parts were a result of knowing not where I am meant to stand in this world, so for lack of true understanding I will have simply put on the right face at the right time, though most times it appears that my view of the right face is incorrect as I seem to put on the wrong face based on others' faces reflecting like mirrors upon who I seem to be today. How i cringe when looking at what I've found myself doing and saying and feeling around those who don't fit into my soul's plan.
You may appear to be stupid to me, and my eyes may show my judegments....I am nothing though, rest assured what I say or feel means nothing for i am just an empty body filled with ideas waiting to be torn to shreds as I learn of realer truths. You are the same, an empty body engaged in this foolish game, though i feel I missed a step maybe, or ran across the water much faster than I was meant to and now the rocks are so far away I can't leap to that next stone to bring me closer to the horizon where reality and purity must surely await... With you, I seem cocky and condescending, but I am not, I guarantee that I am simply depressed largely and afraid..FRUSTRATED because a lot of what some of them say describe the last stepping stone I stood upon...or one even further back along the way, am i angry at those who aren't plagued with these thoughts their entire lives like I?...when my mentioning of such topics of fatuousness seem to spark a new interest in them, and now it becomes opportune to spit out words that for me provide nothing by nice sounds....at least for now yes I am frustrated, for if I weren't to find others like me I would die tomorrow and this must be true. I seek those who stand on rocks ahead of me or on the rock beside me...I am lost like you, but for god's sake, doesn't everyone care for an answer?...or a reason, or at least a temporary settlement to advance to the next step. All I get is bullshit, and i don't care to go through the motions over and over again.... Going through the motions over and over again....Forgive me please for requiring something solid, something valid, something I can sink my teeth into, for empty words fail to satiate my endless desire for....WHAT????? SOMETHING???ANYTHING???
beauty, clarity, reality?...purity, knowledge?...these things clearly only exist in the mind yet I seek to attain them otherwise when i truly feel that all along, such great things could perhaps provide a satisfaction of settling onto them despite the reality that each conception is clearly nothing, while they would be something in a sense if I were simply flowing down the river....beauty, clarity, reality, purity, knowledge, all of these things my soul has needed from time to time.....I could just trick myself into a different sort of mindset in order to be happy though it gets more difficult to change to a more flowing and free self the longer I stay on the darker contemplative side..I say to myself that soon I will trick myself like the fools who just nod along, or like the smart people who are smart enough to know it's best to just go with the flow...soon I will re-trick myself into buying into everything my senses inform me of, soon i will seek attainable enjoyable goals on this earth as a level headed human being. Soon I will be free to float like the rest of them who do it so much better than me.
We are all nothing clearly; specs of dust in an infinite continuum of time and space. This has clearly occurred to most at some point or another unless mommy and daddy told them jesus loved them from the moment they were born... So What we must do is pretend that we are something while were still alive....For we ARE truly something while were breathing, we are beauty and purity though our endeavours may seem scripted and pre-destined to dissolve over the ages as new kings conquer the land of fallen kings....all I can say is I'll love you 'til the day you die, or perhaps til the day I die...I'll love you after even if I never say goodbye. I will say goodbye though holding on in the back of my mind, I will move on with my life, because that's what humans are supposed to do, when we pass from a world to the next, or when our hearts cease to beat, and we are put into the ground of this world; where our souls might fly away, I wish for this outcome more than anything for you right now, not for myself for I find it harder to believe about my own destiny, but for you, these random cruel faits are too unjust to mark any sort of ending, perhaps if a human can feel such pain there must be redemption, otherwise god IS dead and so he shall remain. I believe with my heart that there's a heaven but my brain remains hesitant to jump on board...In matters like this for you I have faith....for now there's nothing else you can do but try to succeed for YOU, for your life is being lived at this moment, and that's all that we can truly sink our teeth into until we ourselves die and see what lies on the otherside. All I wish to say is forget what I have proposed and take away the one thing that seems to matter: love. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 16th, 2006|01:58 am] |
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Strange day from start to finish, no awkward occurrences to speak of, just the way things seem to be out there. There’s a funny feeling coming back to me. I’m on the bus, the sun is shining down, and I lean my head on the window; it is warm and where I like to be when I’ve just woken up and need to settle into my skin. Check point reached, so I sit and wait for the wheels to start rolling while my eyes adjust to daytime living. I’m reminded of vacations and take offs in planes from days when I was in elementary school, and the sun was hot on the window and I sensed adventure ahead. There’s that anticipatory glow of warm things approaching, and when the bus starts to move it feels like were making good ground though I know the ride will end as shortly as it does everyday. The road is undoubtedly more cooperative without the snow or salt, and I can’t help but imagine fixing my car and leaving for an undisclosed amount of time. I get lost on the road and forget about anybody else on the bus. There’s the possibility for taking to the streets, for living and loving when the sun returns; resting on this hot window I begin to morph into a past identity as my seasonal amnesia lifts itself and I start to recall that I was once one who lived for the daylight, one who jumped out of bed without even having to convince himself that it is necessary to do so if he is to live a healthy life filled with happy things and sincere encounters...Sometimes my day never even begins when I get out there, I go days without being able to open my eyes or even knowing how to want..I try to want and try to feel..it’s so easy to just sleep and fall off the face of the earth, but I’m thinking more on the lines of using that scrawny little branch to climb back to the edge and just running as fast as I can into the depths of the nearest city. I'll run and lose this leash that’s had me tethered to lovelessness. The water level is rising, and I know that this will be my favourite part of the day as we pass over the bridge and I am able to look at the widening stream of gleaming liquid as it grows and effortlessly defies man's wishes to civilize and conquer. I connect eyes with those along the sidewalk as I pass, just for a second before the faces are blurred and gone, but I'm left to laugh in my belly at how weird THEY are; I start to feel pretty good about my skin. and who I am, and start to think I'm unique for a lot of good reasons. I'm remembering an old ghost of myself, and he starts to comfort me as he explains a shield we used to use to withdraw from bullshit when it drains your soul dry. Alone will be your only true home. |
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| My heart was dead when i wrote this, i was lying. |
[Oct. 14th, 2005|04:35 pm] |
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I take every showing of affection as some secret sign of sympathy. I don't know why I can't believe in good about myself, i used to, by used to I must mean before my heart died, before my beliefs in things died, before I begen to seek a reason. WHat happenes after your heart dies?...well in most cases you become more normal, you trade in your old sould for a robotic mechanical one, that's programmed to obey the rules of the day, like going to school and getting a job...so I shouldnt say my soul has officially died, it's simply beign forced to choose between life or death. my brother seems to have chose deatha long time ago. |
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| I love you. |
[Oct. 9th, 2005|11:50 am] |
I swirl inside my mind, the fulfillment of this night exceeds me, my alcohol passes right through me and won't make me drunk for the life of me, I try to remember what to do...how to make it the way it should be...I don't know anymore...But you all seem to know and I get pulled into the flow, and drift into the stream of things, and there's hugs and beers, and it feels good....Just can't seem to find that drive though, that source of energy, I blame the flu.
I want to be free, and that desire for freedom is what restrains me like a leash holding on; teathered to reason.
...what a mistake it is to care about anything, I care about people thinking they know me when they have nothing to go on, they hear a stupid joke and that is me...They go pushing pieces together to make a puzzle though they're clearly missing some important ones....Funny thing is, I feel that people can know me the best, if I really don't do any talking at all, usually what I say isn't me at all, I don't know why I say certain things, sometimes words just come out and my soul is not the source for these words....the people I surround myself with are everything, know me better than i know myself, how do they see me?...that's how you should too maybe, I'd have no problems with that, i think it's at least as honest as it'll get. She knows me more than anyone and she seems to love me still, I'm comforted with that, but who knows why...she doesn't seem to care about a lot of things that I do, but then again that can be said about a lot of close friends...really though, who knows. It doesn't matter really, people can love and that's all that matters.
I thank you for making me 'normal', without you I'd be lost in chaos and thoughts and theories.
Seems in all these other things I've been thinking and feeling I'd lost the recollection of how this particular machine operated...I'll take home with me the smallest bits and pieces, and draw them into pictures, nice ones where everything looks good, and the smiles are sincere, people speaking lovely words, and this is how I wish to remember....can't it be the truth?...I think it can. Not every day/night though, don't be dissappointed when reality rings true, I've made the mistake of letting it get me down, make me re-think things....but the good ones will outnumber the bad if you let them come over you like a wave. If you relax and enjoy, reality will shape itself. You'll start opening your eyes and seeing your favourite things.
Sometimes I surely dont know my place in this world if not safe at home with her...it's sort of odd to have two sorts of worlds to go to...but it's good to have these worlds, without them we'd all be dead, suicide....
Sometime in my life I realised that I wasn't always around people who knew me, think, they didn't know anything about me and nor did i care enough to display who i was to them so that they could KNOW me... but it's an ugly feeling to have incomplete perceptions out there in the world, of ME, perceptions that are heated, or strange...I surely can be these things at times, but not all the time. I know I think too much, I know this, but it's like the other day in class I went off on some girl in a debate because she was american and she supported George Bush, the whole class practically cheered me on by laughing when i finished tearing into it, after I was done practically everyone else in the class took it on themselves hail ridiculously general arguments with this one girl, like claiming that canadians cared more about nationalism...picking her out with far fetched opinions that basically pitted canada vs USA...I felt the need to stick up for her now because I wasn't on THEIR side either... so i made a comment about an argument that the girl sitting next to me made and the whole class laughed because it was clear that her statement was no more than a subjective opinion....I went home and felt pretty terrible about it...I don't know why, whether it was making someone feel bad, if I even did..i doubt anybody even cared other than me....or if it was allowing myself to get invloved and almost angry, and showing it to all these people who don't know me at all, and now they think I'm that guy who questions everybody and picks people apart in front of the rest of the class....and I dont necessarily want to be that guy... O always thought of them as pricks who thought they were big shit, and maybe I am this guy sometimes, but not all the time!...and here I am, for some reason this bothers me....why?...Do I really care what other people think of me that much?..I don't think so, it has to do with knowing who i am, and that guy in the corner who strongly voices his opinions is not a guy I like very much maybe...there's just something so enduglent and lacking self control to subject yourself to an argument that will only get you warmed up then send you home.....a lady in my class approached me a few days after and jokingly said "I thought you were gonna kill that girl the other day!"...I told her, I didn't enjoy allowing myself to get involved in such debates...I could tell she wasn't expecting that sort of serious response....she simply said, "well everybody is entitled to their own opinons"...and I thought, YEAH! maybe it is that fuckin simple, I was just stating my opinion, Fuck George Bush obviously! not only is it an opinion, it's the right fuckin opinion.... and for a while I went thinking it was a good thing....
I don't know how or why i always end up doing this, but I'm merely confirming my innate ability to over-conceptualize almost everything, accept the things I understand....what I understand isn't so clear always but there are things that sort of just FEEL, you know the kind, the things that are only FELT, words are bullshit in any case, there's nothing words can bring to you if you haven't felt that thing without them before.. you wouldn't have any personal interpretation to apply to words if you hadn't felt the real thing before....those are the things I understand, what i feel.
i was just thinking of being a kid and how simple it was to be myself, to know who I was, and to not concern myself with such over-conceptualization..it was easy when i was a kid...I laughed thinking of my thoughts then... I liked sports, i liked Baseball so my dad bought me a Tigers hat, not the shitty kind, a custom fit, and that sort of represented who i was...I liked the tigers, i liked baseball, and on top of that, i knew that custom fit hats were better than the ones all the other kids were sporting at that time...HA I don't know, it makes sense somehow. I just remember feeling cool wearing this hat, custom fit from Detroit...
I want to be fueled with humour and only humour as I once was as a child...for hours, not a single thought but what else would be funny...........
I don't know what home should feel like, in the movies they make it look so easy, the hero returns from war and feels the earth beneath his feet, smells the air lets his hands drag along the surroundings....the director lets you know, that this is what home feels like...well I'm not sure I've ever felt such good things about home, sure returning from out of town it can feel good to sleep in your own bed.....hmm the more I think about it, maybe I do know what home feels like, it's just that I haven't felt it in a while, one thing I know for sure, is that for me, home is not in masonville, in this big house, creeky big basement....I don't know, people all seem to feel at home somewhere....i don't have that place anymore...maybe I'll settle in..... |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 29th, 2005|12:26 pm] |
For the past while, I’ve felt on the verge of something big, something different, I’ve been in wait for it to clarify, this new understanding, for now I’m left with only glimpses of sense that flash, images and knowledge in fast sequence, clear for only a few moments….you know how the brain likes to toy with you..…I’ve been seeing only the big picture, not the small picture, there is really only two pictures, the big one, and the one in front of your face.
I was riding on the bus yesterday in between schools, we drove across the bridge, I looked at the thames and wanted to be fishing on the gleaming water, maybe not there, but somewhere like it, just sitting around, half drunk and free with friends…. confident and sure that the unnecessary philosophical propositions were already assumed to be unnecessary discussion, the answer was unspeakable, we all already would know that certain conclusions were unattainable, the answers of the sort one gathers from drinking and being out in nature somewhere beautiful, are in fact much more fulfilling than the ones which seemingly can never be settled upon.... so I was picturing in my head, just comfortable and free from the mess of trying to understand everything all at once….
Today, this morning, my head isn’t in the same place it has been for the past while, I am awake early and the wind is cold and I like it, I haven’t felt the wind or the cold like this for a long time and I look forward to wearing a good coat, something stylish; the last thing on my mind as of late, but today it occurred to me that I had been thinking of such things and I take it as a positive, a normal day with not so much theory to disprove my pleasures, not a relentless sense of nothingness to sheathe over everything I see, everywhere I am, everyone I encounter, today there is something…..
Yesterday in the cafeteria..
----
I no longer feel as if I am surrounded by reality, nothing on the surface stimulates me, I’ve been descending into myself, my madness you could call it...…I seek to accomplish some kind of human encounter
To take home with me and allow me to think I’m normal…
All these Asians have so many friends, huge groups at tables smiling and laughing, eagerly conversating, except one who sits huddled over some noodles, hardened eyes, we make eye contact briefly and are emotionless…..until his friend comes along and his eyes soften, his whole language is warm and friendly now.
What social hunger did I have on the first days that I lack now…..
My reality exists within my head, not in rooms, or cafeterias full of people; I don’t feel them at all, no excitement in the nerves, I’m still dreaming of darker things.
----
Different today as I‘ve said...
I think of the last two eyelashes I’ve blown away as if they were plausibly my faith healers, I’ve been believing in lots of things lately, it seems as likely as anything, I blew one away yesterday, and today for now my mind is closer to the middle in between the two pictures, I feel as if it is a wish granted... |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 28th, 2005|01:04 am] |
they say there's no truth to common sense cliches
they need to say them...
and see it again...
how do you see?......
I've seen how it can look beautiful
I've seen how it can look pitiful,
we find ourselves the subject in the worst joke in history...
punchline:
the picture stays the same!
yesterday what I saw scared the fuck out of me,
today it made me smile... |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 27th, 2005|11:35 pm] |
too many loose ends, need a symbol to simplify, like a bottle
I love my cat. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 26th, 2005|02:00 pm] |
Today my heart isn't palpating quite so loud, feels good to be tired, too tired to keep my brain locked inside without giving it a peak through my eyes... :
an old man jogs a few steps to cross the road, his sincerity warms my heart, I almost smile to myself.
I drive with the same thing on my mind, though it takes on new forms every day...I feel a little closer than yesterday, but much further away than a month ago or so, I feel different than then.
I'd like to think I'm better than a year ago but maybe the Sky really does control my nervous system, or this emptiness I've wanted to call my soul....somedays it's just the pressures of people that are truly in control of things...."HELLO,how are you!!!", I'm hungry one day, the next I can't look in the mirror without getting nervous...so much social maintenance, when did I start to see interaction as a requirement, see speaking to some as a form of work, a neccesity of humanity...BRING me SPONTANEITY and THEN my face will always look fresh.... tell me I'll have to do the same things tomorrow and I'll surely look depressed as I must appear these days.
When i think of being free of burdens, I go back to a recent day dream, I was in class and the teacher had projected her computer screen onto the wall for some presentation, before it began she left her computer background on the wall, and thought nothing of it. It was that same background that any computer at some time or another has, it's that big green hill, with the bluest sky, and trees and mountains, and nobody in sight. I thought of how good it would feel to take a nap there, and then maybe explore a little bit, do anything with only my own interpretation of what was happening to exist in that moment. It just seemed peaceful, free of thought and overthinking everything, free of burden.
I think If I were still working in the sun and moving along, my body would be moving, my mind would be monitoring, a healthy team of body THEN mind, not MIND MIND MIND MIND MIND.
Today I've already been thinking too long about: tonight, tomorrow, next week, myself, my love, opinions of people who mean nothing to me, opinions of people who mean something to me...theories half dreamt up in sleep still picking away at me, theories theories of how to, how to...do things i once knew how to do so easily...(maybe why is the question)...
...Before I'm even there, 4 steps away from my car !!!THE FEAR!!! i contemplate heading home and going back to bed to rest off this weirdness, but it's only monday... how can it be monday?! mondays the weekend spill off should keep me relaxed for a while...not today, started thinking early, too early to shit out happy enough responses to come off as a reasonable re-surfaced me.
It could be easy to please their ears, but I am no longer fueled with enough reason to make them laugh, to make people like me...I used to know what was so great about having people like you, but I've forgotten......I do still like people...I just don't know what anything's worth these days, or what place should worth really have in going about my buisness....see this is where I start to get lost, when i look into the mess of everything and start to see less of 'good' things.... Really, there are so many good things, I've seen them, my eyes play tricks though; they see what cannot be felt by the rest....the beauty in a skyline... I wait for it to pull me up or pop out like a magic eye, I wait and wait, see the picture but feel nothing.
SHOW ME THIS BEAUTY I'VE BEEN IMAGINING SINCE I WAS OLD ENOUGH TO THINK!!
not everyday but a lot of days...these days....
I wish to be left alone, forgotten until i'm ready to speak again, there's too much to get sorted out until then...
repressed until...depressed thoughts get translated into shitty writing re-assuringly concluded with a happy ending, ironic after a slough of morbidity...I used to fear that without a mention of beauty in writing, I'd lose the foresight to see it again in the future...fear is a bitch. (or maybe beauty is just a nicer thing to write about than sadness)
To see a familiar face is something miraculous....was gonna say the whole process fascinated me, but fuck fascination, there's much more to it than that, I was fascinated in psychology when the teacher said that the cells of the eye actually respond differently when looking upon a familiar face...That's fascinating,
but really when I am alive and outside in life and I see someone I know, it isn't my eyes that feel this feeling, it isn't a feeling of fascination...but comfort moreso, relief, it comes from knowing people you care for...there's an identity associated with these people that you know you are, cause they've seen enough to know enough, or you simply care enough wholeheartedly to forget stupid odds and ends, there is something to be gained with these people; a laugh has worth....it's true...the opposite can be said about those you don't give a shit about, or somewhat have a distaste for, yet find yourself celled with them in awkward nothingness daily....where I used to see opportunity to make laughter in these situations, I now see an expectation, a responsibility that must be upheld....a face talking back at me, reading lines from
some community script, one used for situations lacking specifics, simply there to be read in times of awkward silence....
the other day I was on the bus between schools and I ran into somebody I didn't know in the first place but was was once drunk and friendly enough to say hello to, so now it seemed we were friends. I should've left my headphones on and smiled, but i somehow found myself engaged in this obligatory game of catch up
while in my mind, I'm asking why....why do I feel the need to even respond to this person..what if I just started ignoring her as she so arrogantly assumes that i give a shit about some professor she thinks wants to fuck her...something about chit chat, if you're not in the mood it can be a monumental challenge...I'm trying not to unravel, trying to just make it through. Yet other days I want to say hello just to be nice, and anxiously respond as if I cared...how do I care for things somedays but other days I simply desire to care...I try to remember what it felt like to care thinking that it might steer me in the right direction...sometimes it does.
I feel there are so many bases to cover, as if to not leave out certain possibilities, outcomes of this or that, the more I write the more I feel as if i'm writing a text book for my own personal historical referencing....and all I had was a brief image, an encounter with an old man to sit me here and comment, and somehow I get spewing// I took a break and wondered if that's how all these professors and intellects seem satisfied with silly little things like 'bycycling' and riding the bus....old weirdos always smiling when I pass them...do they keep that smile by going home at night and writing and writing text books, theories, new ideas that aren't really new, just human ideas with some spun terminology...new analogies for basic logic....or maybe these old smiling guys were just deprived as kids and somehow getting to ride bikes and buses is the greatest thing ever- |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 22nd, 2005|11:39 am] |
swirling under the sky in drunken thoughts that turned for the worse, couldnt shut them up,
just wanted my bed and to sleep with sadness..show me the sun, and I'll pray I swear. Someone tell me that i don;t have to be sad all the time. SOMEONE TELL ME IT'S EASY TO BE HAPPY WITH LIFE AND THINGS AND EXISTENCE AND OTHER'S OPINIONS THAT DON'T MATCH WITH MINE>TELL ME IT'S FUN TO LIVE AND LOVE. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 22nd, 2005|02:48 am] |
had a cab driver who showed me home
otherwise I wouldn't have known,
lately I'm old and lost,
I want happiness but it escapes me.
I want comfort but it's not so easy.
knowing yourself sounds easy
but who are you....
I am me.
I want the drink to solve my problems.
will....self....
I got a job and hoped for new answers...
all i know if I'm a man, is I should still be a kid.
i want someone to recognize my face. |
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| I woke up |
[Jan. 6th, 2005|08:47 pm] |
Today I woke up and went to school, class was cancelled, skipped the next one, made no difference to me, I wasn't up for paying attention anyways. I drank a cappuccino and came home and got high without having eaten, I tried to make some music to no avail; my body was buzzing and weak and wobbly all over. I slept after, and I was peaceful though still wired in the mind. I woke feeling delightfully dizzy....
I picked up the ringing phone and laughed. |
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| I oughtta be there. |
[Dec. 21st, 2004|08:07 pm] |
at times like this, she doesn't even know me.
I don't even know her; if I don't know her, I don't know anyone..
..there's christmas lights, and there's snow on the ground, and it's piled on the cars of those in hibernation. there's a feeling of permanent placenessness with this silence,.... the first time in a while I'm not sure where I should go...
I'm playin it down, and playin it cool...
but i think i oughtta be there...
but I'm playin it down
playin it cool,
though something seems cruel,
I oughtta be there. |
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| point form of life. |
[Dec. 16th, 2004|01:26 pm] |
addressed to the reader,
edited for content,
advertising for compliment. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 4th, 2004|06:45 pm] |
the random compulsions of someone alone
when they know there's no-one watching;
does this mean she's happy...
or does she only sing her songs
to kill the silence of ringing air. |
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| a wake without daylight |
[Dec. 4th, 2004|05:56 pm] |
a wake without daylight
is a day that never existed,
one you've already lost
and wasted.
I wait for her
to call me with my night,
to know it's alright...
something tired,
miserable
about this cycle;
too fast, too forgotten.
the colours have
shifted in my brain;
to a scheme of a
familiar nightmare
\I pray to let go of
someday.\
in dreams
there's no control,
and when I wake
I am a damaged soul,
I fear my body and brain
suffer from poor chemistry...
maybe that's why
it's weird and dark to wake,
like every night's a sickness
that takes hours to wash away. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 11th, 2004|10:27 pm] |
Happy Birthday Erin!...I loooove you.
here's a picture of the party last night...things got pretty crazy. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 7th, 2004|03:29 am] |
living the life of a tabloid;
a trampled article
on a city street,
no-one cares to read,
the stories, out of date now
you lost your chance to stop the world. |
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| exchange of mind |
[Jun. 19th, 2004|01:48 pm] |
a foggy morning
scene
from a sidewalk bench |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 17th, 2004|08:35 pm] |
I'm climbing a ladder
that's falling from the sky,
I know I'm doomed
but I can't help but try.
I think of love
with each rung that goes by,
this way I know
I'm still alive
in someone else's eyes. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 17th, 2004|04:09 pm] |
some can't speak a single word,
some utter sounds to make sentences,
what do they hear
when their tongue rattles out of form,
out of sync
out of touch.
they're constantly reminded of their fears
every time they pass by someone else who's on his way to nowhere,
this is who they are
"that is who I am".
they stop for a chat of random words
strung in sentences...
it will make no sense to them
they connect only by their hopeful eyes,
certainly not by mind,
..their voices are restrained by tongues
that rattle out of sync with the brain...
...a muffler falling off of a dying car,
out of sync with the engine
rattling along the pavement.
the one man politely nods along
to the sounds the other makes,
it all makes no sense to him. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 12th, 2004|02:07 pm] |
talk so loud
so everyone can hear
I stare straight forward
but you know I'm here,
in just a few minutes
I've learned your life,
I could write
the story of you,
it would only take a few minutes...
a few words
and the theme would be clear;
a person without personality
empty you
expressing no means,
indifferent you
will never see anything at all.
this stranger's stupidity
depresses me,
talking so loud
so everyone can hear. |
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| eternal vacation |
[Jun. 4th, 2004|09:53 am] |
the old school's bell still rings at the hour,
daytoday
you're in this place
back home
or far away
time will turn the same. |
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| .old shit. |
[Jan. 29th, 2004|01:10 am] |
2003-12-10 19:53:00; I remember how good that you felt...when you were alive.
Catechized to require reassurance, demoralized and dependant... we are all stranded without someone else's arms to carry us home. Myriads upon more, we kill eachother in our swim to shore, what did you once hope for? .....just to survive or for the chance to resign?... prepared for subjugation now... ..just a falling anthropoid who landed on integrity and found delirium.
2003-11-23 19:31:00; Don't shake my hand.
Hoping these pointless(?) compulsions would fill your soul, you searched and found, then without control over and over and over again, you used. Stealing nightly illustrations to paint a PictURE in the mind that's only appreciated during that quickly forgotten point in time... no matter how tragically wasteful it feels, realize that No portrait holds the capability of sanctifying a world that is always changing. Grow impatient with underdeveloped histories to erase the desire for mis-leading mysteries. ehhh fuck it. give it up.
2003-11-07 15:56:00; a beautiful poem
you're so fuckin cool sometimes.... eat shit loser.
2003-10-18 15:48:00; easily amused, easily bored.
When the well runs dry, how do you break the news to the children? How do you tell them they may not survive?... Don't even bother, just drink the remaining water before you run and hide. Incapable of falling yet plagued with compassion, it's impossible to decide.
2003-09-11 01:56:00; I'm drunk
wow...hey kids... I'm fuckin drunk... lately and as always I've been too ovwerwhelmed with thoughts
to speak about whats really going on....
I could waste my time, and explain my mind,
but where would that leave me?
I'd only have to explain myself to the next one..
people with closed minds,
here is your official warning....
I have no time
for you.
I can hear your real voice,
and that is why I know
I am more than you are,
because you don't realize
I can hear your real voice...
Anything you say i can hear the real words
anything you've seen I've seen it for myself,
and I've seen it without corruption
from false insinuations
so go feel what is cool to be real...
just don't bore me with your plagerized ideals...
I'm sick of conversating over opinions that already exist, offer me something new so you won't be added to my list.
2003-08-27 18:50:00; baked imagery that seemed to make sense at the time....
Watching the sunrise so many times can burn holes in the spine, just like those who've walked in too bright of light may never awake in the mind in time to restitch the canvas in places where fires scorched splits in the sky. When the canopy that holds the cotton clouds together begins to tear in all directions, the shadows start to seep from the deepness beneath your consciousness. conquered by the darkness of a moon that will never become the perfect powerful bulb that once possessed a beam so mesmerizing and illuminating.... that everything within sight would glow under it's light. blindly you wonder where to run, in a hopeless search for your long lost sun.
2003-08-05 02:31:00; Counting the days 'til I can think again.
Without the yearning,
I can no longer see anything,
not even the dark,
like a man with no eyes who
sees nothing at all.
Simplicity has conquered,
providing boredom as a
thoughtless substitute for pain.
The surrounding hole
has settled for now.
I'm comforted knowing
the effort will continue
upon The return,
and with every gauranteed awaiting
moment of awkward silence,
my shovel grows hungrier for the earth.
Then I will have something to
think about.
2003-07-27 11:56:00; noitta feeeeel lllikkke shit, woke up at eight today, hungover as shit, wanting to sleep but couldn't due to thinking about something, wondering about what that something was upto last night......So OKAY I went upstairs and started watchin some sports highlights right. There's always time for sports highlights. I ended up passing out with the tv on so loud, and the sportscaster's voice somehow got itself incorporated into my dreams, it was fucked. First I dreamt I was a pitcher in a baseball videogame, but it was weirder than that. Then I was a cfl quarterback. See this sounds like it would be cool but it wasn't, the dudes voice was fucking so annoying, the whole time, I was just pissed off and wanting that dude to shut up, he ruined it all.....damn him. I feel so weird now.....eh fun times.
2003-07-20 14:54:00; ramblins
Everything cherishable comes as a surprise, and leaves too fast to keep alive. You woke up to the sound of rain hitting your window, and negative sunlight shining through the cracks in your blinds; no induced posititivy to consume from the World outside. The high points of the night before have officially all been lost. For whatever reason, your brain has decided to shift colours again. Maybe it was a dream that tainted your perspective upon awakening, or maybe you'll remember an event from a night before, and interpret something you said from an overly sober point of view. Regardless of how you got there, you now find yourself stuck in the shadows of a hole, and on days like this you know you dug it yourself. Just one of those days....a day with complete awareness, where you have a clear recollection of what or who is causing you this illness. These are the days when you think too much, but then again you think too much all the time.
2003-07-17 02:44:00; Drunk and wishing I was a bum
H e S i t s A t t h e C o r n e r .
Ants wander chaotically,
towered over by their industrialized hills,
while the loud sun
stirs commotion all around Him,
glints heat off the pavement,
and shines off the can he holds in his hand.
With his bare feet exposed
to the downtown current,
he refuses to be submerged by the flood
of the free swinging river
that flows on the sidewalk,
always remaining a statue.
Faces and machines smear the canvas
of the colourful life blurring in front of him,
As smothering sounds of traffic and voices
bounce like balls off the encasing walls,
echoes forever stuck in an eternal cycle,
keeping eyes awake all night.
The sun always fades,
quieting down the runway,
but never killing it nor putting it to bed.
Sleeping with the city stars,
he dreams of far away points,
only to wake with the sun,
and to watch the river flow. |
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| YEAH!!!!!!!!!!! |
[Jan. 5th, 2004|05:19 pm] |
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we're going to go to subway jess, get some subs. |
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