I had a profound thought this morning staring into my popping bacon grease:
"Your evasive maneuvers may be fate's aiming to fire."
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Travelin' Through
I press my hand to the moving record and hear an opera by Henry Purcell, performed by Kym Amps turn to a dull bass, sllllooowwwwlyyyy mmmuuuutttteerrriiiinnnnnggggg "Wwwwwhennnnnnnn Iiiiii aaaammmmm lllllaaaiiiddddd iiinnnnn eeeaaarrrttthhh"
"beauty is relative."
"not my relatives."
"i wish just once they would look at me and see me. that's all."
the wall of books is closing in on me.
"C3PO, shut down all the garbage compactors on the detention level!"
i walk out to see,
then see how it would be if no one were there, suddenly the george foreman, and the vacuum cleaner, and dirty pots and pans don't seem so useful to me. how could i ignore the one thing that that filled this house with such meaning, until it could possibly be gone. lost forever. not a joke, a movie moment to say to yourself in some imagined future "happy now? you waited for ever, and now it's too late."
somehow it doesn't seem like it could feel that easy to say
counting the trees and the animals in the little picture above the toilet, so good , now standing to pee
how could i be this grown
when someone hurts you, you have one of two options, right?
you can either 1. retaliate, agressive, eye-for-an-eye revenge OR 2. retreat, take it in, but do not respond, don't let anyone know you hurt. --- that's it, right?
heh. highly doubtful. but when it comes down to the shit of fight-or-flight, that's pretty much the two things we either/or end up doin', ain't it?
why do i keep imagining a scene of me turning my family living room into a couseling session as something totally silly?
"it hurts."
"oh sweetie, that's what hearts do."
I can't tell ya where I'm going, I'm not sure where I've been.
But I know I must keep travelin' til my road comes to an end.
I'm out here on my journey tryin to make the most of it.
I'm a puzzle, I must figure out where all my pieces fit.
Like a poor wayfarin stranger that they speak about in song,
I'm just a weary pilgrim tryin to find my own way home.
whispering words into a electronic journal, a la Penny Robinson
I bend my Nike stretch-pant swarthed leg out and to the left just so, where the floor A/C vent sticking out of the hideous rainbow puzzle piece floor tiles blows cool air right up my leg, across my crotch and out the other pant leg. Strange.
Every day I think to myself: I can gain some muscle, but it doesn't seem likely that I could actually gain any sort of great deal of weight. My stomach just doesn't hold enough.
I spend my entire day at work, doing not work (thankfully) but allowing myself to get dragged into what turned out to be yet another Mouse Trap misadventure in which my attempts to help you in some way backfire in my face, literal fire, burning my face, some house, the key still on my ring, always thinking i could return to visit the old place, and now the thought of it all burning down, with one fell SwooAIM - exponentiated 'fuck you's directed toward the complacency one individual could dare to exude pretending to believe something so rich and so unique to anything else in existence to us could just be shrugged away. Sandbox games, where the only rule is to get it in your eyes, crying, or seeing who does first, in which I walk down mazes only to test how far I would walk. Any end in sight? It's not like I'm always looking for some sort of savory manchego or brie. But to have walls collapse around me, that which I climbed onto a craggly cliff to pursue threaten not only my emotional fortitude but that which i set out to mend, and then only realize that it was all SHRUGGABLE. Deemed by some non-present self-proclaimed rule-gamer to be MY DECISION - it was never about me - the problem was that I made everything about me - on and on - and in the end, it all seems only a test to see how far I (that's ME< MYSELF < I )-- how far I would venture for the sake of another. Can a independent variable ever be a dependent variable at the same time?
There's more...I still need to report on the "adventurous" weekend....as well as "a distant beach", "we could 'not talk' for hours", and "jobs in sight".
..Til then.
if you let that feeling come over you
than there's nothing more that you can do
just let it go
let it go
if it's love you want
hold out your arms
it's alright here
it's safe and warm
it's okay to feel good
thats the way it should be
You can't ever tell me I haven't been happy, anywhere, and everwhere I've been - and with most of you that I've met. Thus one could say I'm a happy person.
But can a coward be happy forever?
"beauty is relative."
"not my relatives."
"i wish just once they would look at me and see me. that's all."
the wall of books is closing in on me.
"C3PO, shut down all the garbage compactors on the detention level!"
i walk out to see,
then see how it would be if no one were there, suddenly the george foreman, and the vacuum cleaner, and dirty pots and pans don't seem so useful to me. how could i ignore the one thing that that filled this house with such meaning, until it could possibly be gone. lost forever. not a joke, a movie moment to say to yourself in some imagined future "happy now? you waited for ever, and now it's too late."
somehow it doesn't seem like it could feel that easy to say
counting the trees and the animals in the little picture above the toilet, so good , now standing to pee
how could i be this grown
when someone hurts you, you have one of two options, right?
you can either 1. retaliate, agressive, eye-for-an-eye revenge OR 2. retreat, take it in, but do not respond, don't let anyone know you hurt. --- that's it, right?
heh. highly doubtful. but when it comes down to the shit of fight-or-flight, that's pretty much the two things we either/or end up doin', ain't it?
why do i keep imagining a scene of me turning my family living room into a couseling session as something totally silly?
"it hurts."
"oh sweetie, that's what hearts do."
I can't tell ya where I'm going, I'm not sure where I've been.
But I know I must keep travelin' til my road comes to an end.
I'm out here on my journey tryin to make the most of it.
I'm a puzzle, I must figure out where all my pieces fit.
Like a poor wayfarin stranger that they speak about in song,
I'm just a weary pilgrim tryin to find my own way home.
whispering words into a electronic journal, a la Penny Robinson
I bend my Nike stretch-pant swarthed leg out and to the left just so, where the floor A/C vent sticking out of the hideous rainbow puzzle piece floor tiles blows cool air right up my leg, across my crotch and out the other pant leg. Strange.
Every day I think to myself: I can gain some muscle, but it doesn't seem likely that I could actually gain any sort of great deal of weight. My stomach just doesn't hold enough.
I spend my entire day at work, doing not work (thankfully) but allowing myself to get dragged into what turned out to be yet another Mouse Trap misadventure in which my attempts to help you in some way backfire in my face, literal fire, burning my face, some house, the key still on my ring, always thinking i could return to visit the old place, and now the thought of it all burning down, with one fell SwooAIM - exponentiated 'fuck you's directed toward the complacency one individual could dare to exude pretending to believe something so rich and so unique to anything else in existence to us could just be shrugged away. Sandbox games, where the only rule is to get it in your eyes, crying, or seeing who does first, in which I walk down mazes only to test how far I would walk. Any end in sight? It's not like I'm always looking for some sort of savory manchego or brie. But to have walls collapse around me, that which I climbed onto a craggly cliff to pursue threaten not only my emotional fortitude but that which i set out to mend, and then only realize that it was all SHRUGGABLE. Deemed by some non-present self-proclaimed rule-gamer to be MY DECISION - it was never about me - the problem was that I made everything about me - on and on - and in the end, it all seems only a test to see how far I (that's ME< MYSELF < I )-- how far I would venture for the sake of another. Can a independent variable ever be a dependent variable at the same time?
There's more...I still need to report on the "adventurous" weekend....as well as "a distant beach", "we could 'not talk' for hours", and "jobs in sight".
..Til then.
if you let that feeling come over you
than there's nothing more that you can do
just let it go
let it go
if it's love you want
hold out your arms
it's alright here
it's safe and warm
it's okay to feel good
thats the way it should be
You can't ever tell me I haven't been happy, anywhere, and everwhere I've been - and with most of you that I've met. Thus one could say I'm a happy person.
But can a coward be happy forever?
Sunday, June 4, 2006
*Rawr*
I don't believe anyone can fathom how totally and repeatedly bored I am here...and now.
I'm bored with staring at this stupid ad of "Click to Outlift Arnie" with arnold and bush weightlifting at the top of my myspace blog entry window.
I'm bored with sitting in this room filled with all of my shit...books, movies, things to fill my time, i thought, and not wanting to pick anything up.
I'm bored with feeling totally disconnected from everyone, not posessing any true, deeply held desire to conversate with anyone, and them not wanting to conversate with me, (one potentially being caused by the other, or vice versa, who knows), well, except for maybe my parents, who sit complacently in the living room, as always. But now, at home for potentially the last three months for a very long, long time, I, excited to do things, and get them out of their fucking recliners and stay moving, in their lives - whatever- I find myself continually slamming face first into that wall of complacency. God, I mean does having spent a good five or six years of my life hearing them beg and whine for some kind of contact with me, to talk to them, anything - has all that been totally erased from their minds? And now, here I am, willing to put myself through the hell of living in this lifeless town, ONLY for them, to get close to them, and there's....nothing. I leave my door wide open, i go and sit in the living room, i walk by really slowly, annnnnnd....nothing. I made the effort to build a tent a drag them outside to play board games and --- Okay, fine. So i'm not exactly the best initiator of contact in this major complaint of mine. Why do they make me so mad? Don't they realize how little time they have? I mean do they think that they still have a good two months to convice me to stay at home forever? Fuck that. I'm sorry.
AM I THE EPITOMIZATION OF LAZINESS?
if so, how did i get this way?
by being totally spoiled all my life?
shit.
I keep saying I'm going to start doing the pushups, get back into practicing tap, eat more, get my car and moped fixed, sell a great deal of the shit I own, get back in contact with people I care about but haven't talked to in ages, the list goes on I assure you. But......nothing. WHY?
I feel so trapped in my own complacency, anti-motivation, procrastiation, and lack of 'get-up-and-go-ness'.
What to do, what to do...
Oh well, this is really getting me nowhere.....better go do nothing somewhere a little less productive.
I'm bored with staring at this stupid ad of "Click to Outlift Arnie" with arnold and bush weightlifting at the top of my myspace blog entry window.
I'm bored with sitting in this room filled with all of my shit...books, movies, things to fill my time, i thought, and not wanting to pick anything up.
I'm bored with feeling totally disconnected from everyone, not posessing any true, deeply held desire to conversate with anyone, and them not wanting to conversate with me, (one potentially being caused by the other, or vice versa, who knows), well, except for maybe my parents, who sit complacently in the living room, as always. But now, at home for potentially the last three months for a very long, long time, I, excited to do things, and get them out of their fucking recliners and stay moving, in their lives - whatever- I find myself continually slamming face first into that wall of complacency. God, I mean does having spent a good five or six years of my life hearing them beg and whine for some kind of contact with me, to talk to them, anything - has all that been totally erased from their minds? And now, here I am, willing to put myself through the hell of living in this lifeless town, ONLY for them, to get close to them, and there's....nothing. I leave my door wide open, i go and sit in the living room, i walk by really slowly, annnnnnd....nothing. I made the effort to build a tent a drag them outside to play board games and --- Okay, fine. So i'm not exactly the best initiator of contact in this major complaint of mine. Why do they make me so mad? Don't they realize how little time they have? I mean do they think that they still have a good two months to convice me to stay at home forever? Fuck that. I'm sorry.
AM I THE EPITOMIZATION OF LAZINESS?
if so, how did i get this way?
by being totally spoiled all my life?
shit.
I keep saying I'm going to start doing the pushups, get back into practicing tap, eat more, get my car and moped fixed, sell a great deal of the shit I own, get back in contact with people I care about but haven't talked to in ages, the list goes on I assure you. But......nothing. WHY?
I feel so trapped in my own complacency, anti-motivation, procrastiation, and lack of 'get-up-and-go-ness'.
What to do, what to do...
Oh well, this is really getting me nowhere.....better go do nothing somewhere a little less productive.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
