SECTION 15
Sunday, April 10, 2005 8:56 PM
Sigh. A big sigh. A why oh why kinda sigh, but oh well, such is such is. such is such is.
I'm sectioning off, for I am a new person. I did it with 3 cds. Well, 6 actually, if you want to get technical.
I'll tell the story, for it needs to be told. i've been putting it off a bit, is all.
the site was down for a week. now it is up, and now i must do.
i'll give the story of the cds soon enough, perhps in a different forum.
no, i have not that kind of time, or have i. i do, but the idea is silly. For i could just as easily do it here, and since it doesn't really matter who hears it, or when, but just that it gets down before it is too late and leaves my greenish-grey matter. and if you spell it with an a, that's not important, this will not be the best of story-telling.
But let's get down the undocumented, the soonest to leave, the most recent. The dropping off the 3rd cd...
You have to understand, i had to name it what i did. i had to. oh, i know how to make it clearer. yes, that way i don't have to tell it, and i can stay fresh, for the final denoument. i mean, its going on, but anyway:
oh... now i want to record...
Sunday, April 10, 2005 9:10 PM
Sunday, April 10, 2005 10:29 PM
ah... now... now what to do... i'm tempted to add to the new, the cd. i think i want to do some more to it. and right now, the three who should have it, do. i can't explain entirely, clearly, clearly or entirely.
3. i need to clean. i didn't clean nearly as much as i wanted to... since i like, moved a bookcase... Anyway, tomorrow morning must be spent doing my part of a project with otto. i want it only to go to them, i don't want to be selfish though, i just want to make it mean something more. that makes no sense. but whatever.
my cat is on my bed, and he looks very cute, very content. i am as well, with progress, such as it is going, and it is, i got my scores back for the gre, nothing special, but whatever, just a form...
--i was going to say "ality" but i got to go, so i ain't got the time to say it. i'll do it sometime, don't worry.
how about now? i have to be a man of my word.
ality
Sunday, April 10, 2005 10:41 PM
Thursday, April 14, 2005 10:31 PM
They whip me, and they whip me good, they don't stop, they don't stop.
Fucking sons of motherfucking assholes goddamn i'd shoot them all upside the fucking dome with a fucking large weapon of mass demolition and dissintigration, fucking bastards, telling me that i smell, and all that shit, fuck them, i don't need to play, i'm glad they got my 10, i hope they enjoy it, fucking assholes.
fucking bullshit.
none of them, but my housemates, the rest of them, fuck em, after i make it, fuck em, each and everyone of those condescending motherfuckers. goddamn.
all together, nobody wanted to say shit, well, fuck em. fuck em, no one want to speak up and say "fuck you, he can smell however the fuck he wants."
i fucking hate being me sometimes, only bceause i have to deal with other people, without them, its quite easier, quite more comfortable, i want the love i miss so much, but i feel i lost another, another from my own inclinations of which i have no intenions, but i get mad, mad like when you see racism, and you're a minority, and you can't do shit about it, and it's from your own damn friends.
why should minorities only hang out with other minorities of the same ilk? is it shared experiences, commonalities? No, fucking bullshit, its because no one gives you shit for something you don't need when you one of the same with everyone else. When you're the only one, or one of only two, maybe three, fucking bullshit, i hear crap like that, maybe its just an observation, not necessarily an admonishment, yeah, enjoy your fucking beers and superiority, fuck you all.
guy didn't speak up worth shit, no one spoke up worth shit. mother fuckers. i can't be who i want to be, and fucking i got to "pass" all fucking day. Pretend to be straight-laced and white-colored. Fuckers, i'm dedicating this next bowl i blaze to you and you're fucking ignorance may it seethe into your loneliness.
Fucking a, tomorrow, my car will finally hit 150K. i'll need to get video of it. I'll have to go drive for my break, so i'll have to do it on the road and not in any special way.
Fuckers got damn, makes me so mad, i can't even enjoy this high. what the fuck, i can't go about doing what i want... shit. You think i like people being drunk around me? No. Fuck that, i hate drunk ass people, but i put up with it, because the idea is to be relaxed and ah fuck them all. since not a one not a one said shit.
they didn't all join in, but no one said shit.
it makes me want to do drastic things, to end the ignorance and intollerance. Goddamnit, as far as things that won't hurt anyone else, i mean, shit, alcohol, cigarettes, fuck...
and the one of three, didn't care.
why not? right? Fuck it? i'm lost in this game anyway, why not go in a blaze of vaingloryinvain.
There's three girls whom i think of, no... well, lately, well, so i thought, so i thought, and i... hate being me.
all different, different places, different ages, types, reasons, feelings. Like, there's the girl from the russian camp, the girl whom i was so desperate for information i tried hold on... one sec. i'm getting summoned to do some break time, guy will no doubt say something about them being bastards, and whatever, but i can't deal. i can't deal with this shit.
fucking don't want to hang out with them. no. i'm just a potsmoker, you don't want my kind around anyway. so fuck you. i'd rather write. i hope i write myself rich and, hell, just rich, rich enough to pay back all the extreme generosity i had to take with a chagrin acceptance for being the whipping boy in all this, all my life, if i have to be alone to not be a whipping post, i will.
i of course feel this way so much because i've gotten denied, well, yeah, denied, yesterday. so everything. \
Thursday, April 14, 2005 10:51 PM
Thursday, April 14, 2005 11:17 PM
i try to be the guys and i of course do not wish them ill will, but they bug me some... now... well, its thinnig out, hold on.
Friday, April 15, 2005 1:19 AM
fucking assholes don't understand anything, anything at all, about it, about the digging in the throat of my problems and my money that i owe, and i have to be strong on, and i can't, not when i get SHIT all the time, i fucking hate it, i hate this shit, why did it have to go that way today, of all days, all days, i can't take it, not after the hit after hit after hit to the ego of the shows of throwsns .ythrs' epntih;sareuckoc.pih0l/a.ph aside.
god i'm so very angry right now, i have no anger, normally, i'm not even angry, im' frustrated, but lord am i frustrated, fucking motherfulker,s thasroe umrcekh think its so easy, so simple, i just want to pay everyone i owe money to who have been so gracious a few times over, the ones who have been so gracious, but at the same time, i'm made to feel like... if someone pulls that whipping boy shit on me once i'm solvent, FUCK THEM and out of my life. In fact, i just want to pay everyone off, and have no debt, and no one around, no one to bug me, to bother me, to make me angry and frustrated because i can't give money to the guys and give love to the girls. so fucking a, what the fuck am i fucking doing anyway.
motherfuckers don't know what its like to be poor and i -p
Friday, April 15, 2005 1:24 AM
Friday, April 15, 2005 1:51 AM
fuck, i'm just angry, frustrated, because i got rejected by a girl yesterday, actively, and also indirectly, maybe. all i know is that it makes all my other failures that much more stinging, so much more frustration, so much more more anger than i usually have. fuck it, don't read thi, fuckers.
friends try to give me sympathy, but it doesn't ease my aching, i just wish i didn't have to interact with other people when i'm like this. it's all good when i'm excited, and possibilities abound, but as i fall, fuck it. not fun. and i don't want to be around anyone, and i wish i didn't have to exist, but hey, it happens, so fuck, i guess i better sleep. i hope i didn't offend any friends, i'd have been jus t ah fuck it, i'm not about to apologize about words to men, i'm already having to deal with, danm, i need to sleep, and i'm so fucking poor, if i wasn't i'd be rich, and i'd have girls and ....
i wonder what death tastes like.
Friday, April 15, 2005 1:56 AM
Saturday, April 16, 2005 6:28 PM
3 girls 3 girls. 3 strikes. i was out, without a doubt. The one intruder's song i've yet to record. But it was much like a baseball game.
There was the first pitch, it was a slow pitch. The pitch I named the cd after, and since i have no other pitches waiting, really, might as well make it official. Wait... i'm going to --- --- --- [self-censored] first, make sure its not --- [self-censored] there. Nice. Ah, shit. Ah, fuck it. Damn, oh well, i'm still naming it the same thing, huh... that's kinda cool... but like, i don't know if she understands what it means to have one's --- ---. it's not.
Okay, i know the solution. Its something enough that she can say without a doubt to anyone who asks, yes, this is my cd. What i tried self-censoring? Let me show you.
Wait... i'm going to --- --- --- [self-censored] google her name first, make sure its not --- out [self-censored] there. Nice. Ah, shit. Ah, fuck it. Damn, oh well, i'm still naming it the same thing, huh... that's kinda cool... but like, i don't know if she understands what it means to have one's --- --- name online . it's not.
So clearly, what happened was i googled her name, found it, and at least wasn't unhappy with the results (hence the "that's kinda cool"). It's a good thing, but its also a very specific thing that could/might make her easier to find. Who's looking? Man, i'm fucknig paranoid. I still wrote, I'm naming this album after you, if you have a problem email or call me. And i asked her to call me after she listened to it... i went back there on friday, a week after i gave it to her, and she hadn't heard it yet, busy with school. Probably college, I didn't ask, i was more interested in getting to secure a call. I knew it would have to be her calling me, cause its not like she can just write it down at work and give it to me... though that's a good idea... i dunno, some girls, i know it's absolutely ridiculous, but they'd rather be called than do the calling.
i of course at the time was only thinking that she couldn't very well tell it to me while i put it in my cell phone in the middle of work. So i thought i'd secure her giving me a call, but she'd have to do it after work, and the cd i gave her was actually two and its actually an hour and a half. And i'm thinking of doing another harmonica track, actually, after this. i should vape though, as i need my hands to type and it is conservative after all, just slow(er).
the place that i lived in... uh... happened to be one of the dead end streets... i gotta listen to the originals in prep, of course.
oh and my idea? With just enough personalization? Well, here it is the title of the forthcoming album--which i'll upload as is after this tgr entry, but still needs polishing.
Dedicated to Belicia L.
Granted, there's not a lot of Belicia's in the world, but if she should tell someone ten years down the line that she is /the/ belicia, there should be no doubting. And further more, Belicia L. is just as google-able as Belicia really--well, granted 1/26th as google-able, perhaps, though i don't know.
i gave her a week plus to tell me she didn't like the name (which has her full name)... she could still to this day not have even opened the cd, and thus still not know the name of the album for i just used a random drawing from my notebook for a cover. But she did say she was going to call me, and she did say she was going to do it after listening to the cd, and she did say she was going to do it after work. and she didn't say explicitly that she was going to call me after work. but she did say she was going to call, and i'm going to have to hold her to that. But if i'm holding her to that, i'm also holding her to the she was going to listen to it after work, and even if she didn't listen to it, she could have at least opened it. And no phone call no email.
So "Dedicated to Belicia L." it is.
that of course, is strike three. Though it's a slowball, it was thrown first. I met her, lord, over a year ago. and since i've had a weekly red-bull habit, and though it was over a couple months that i had to go to that other store... I've seen her maybe 30 times, but i remember each very well.
i forgot entirely to offer her an ice cream sandwich, i think it was the second time (over a year ago) she said they looked good, i offered her one then and she declined.
But whatever, she's still the first of the three that i actually thought of giving a cd to. of course, i gave cds to the Apostrophe but she's over me. (but she could always email me... natch.)
Belicia, though, i don't know, she does something to me in a very similar way. But then again, so did the other two strikes.
See, then there's number two. The girl the from teh russian camp. I've worked in the same building with this girl for over half a year now. (oh, its okay if this makes you laugh, it wasn't my own life, perhaps it would be less catharsis and more comedic, my desires--when it comes to writing--have never, ever, ever, unless it was directly to a person, for any one else, its why i can be so slopppy.)
i'm figuring if i'm doing it, might as well let others in on it. It's all fun and games of the mind that never really go much farther than that. I mean I last week (?) professed my love for Ana Marie Cox based on a picture, and kinda on an article--liked the style, not the subject--in a magazine that i have to look at almost daily since my sci ams and discovers ran out. She's pretty damn cute for being 2 inches by 3 inches. or at least her portrait was. don't ask me the dpi.
aaaaanyway. I didn't give her no email address, no phone number, no nothing, just said, here's something you can listen to. But i think when i finish it, i might put in my phone number and email--which is also a giving of my website address, something that shouldn't have made it into any gossip circles at that office. But i'm planning on liner material, and of course have "awbvious" all about it.
She walked into work, didn't even look up, she hasn't looked up yet. But i coulda sworn i saw a tny smile when she walked by on friday. she musta known i was in that time, cause i was talking loudly to someone that anyone who musta been exiting that door and walking right across that window woulda heard my voice. and i coulda sworn... but no look.
anyway, she might get an album made for her yet. she deserved a copy of this one though. no title on it. no email. no phone number. justthe stupid graphic that came with the blank cd. i don't know, notihng might ever happen, right now, i don't know...
anyway, then there's the third pitch. The fast pitch. The one i've actually spoken the most with of the three. and whom i've only known for a month or two. Whom, for her sake, cause i don't want to embarass her (i don't want to embarass any of these girls) i've been completely ambiguous online about.
suffice it to say, i've gotten more opportunity than either of the others to really get into her mind and know what kind of a person she is. i just sense with all of them a general goodness of nature. But the fast, the last, the first i'd swing at, and first i'd get a formal declination from. (the other two still kind in the air, but every day it looks more and more like they've past the catchers mit and are now in a musky bag with mits and bats and other devices of baseball. i think i've very much already struck out. Which liberates me to go by seniority, since they all have treated me with equal diffidence. (eh, yes and no, slow and curve are still to be determined, and fast was much like the bandage, and besides. i never had a bat. i realize that. fast ball passed without pain, because eh, if i hadn't the calouses, then i wouldn't have had an excuse to bring up the musician, something i might do to any woman who might not know already, and then the calouses turned out to be the ones i'd accrue from playing the first guitar take (which is the only full guitar take i did, then i did a half take, which got fucked up--i'm listening to teh original of that song right now. i'm imagining the random guy who i barely know from a few games of poker to come in and say hey is it okay if we take out the fridge--which my housemates were keeping in my room, with my full and complete concent. my only slight problem was the noise polution to my recording of having it plugged in, i was glad to be rid of it after that, since i could never remember to un-plug and re-plug it for each take.)
i'm going to do a g-harmonica take, my old g has a busted reed, so its a newbie, but its a clean nice sound, it'll make for a good take.
still, i want to let the vapes give out first, and its luckily saturday, so i don't have to worry about keeping up the kiddies on a work/school/whatever-night. it's saturday, i don't get to do this tomorrow, hell yeah i'm going to record while i still have night time at my disposal... of course, i could do an other guitar take first... since these vapes are nowhere near dying. let's see... two 1 and a half hour takes. 3 hours from now... it would be 10. and then my friends have these silly plans for a bar/dancing place... oh i could probably get that minor amount of money i lost at poker that wasn't completely mine by saying i'd drive their drunk asses around... oh such conflict. i could also just wait till the vapes die and do one take, harmonica only, save my poor finger tips. The guitar takes are the weakest part, i know that. i don't practice enough, i know that too. Hell, i can offer harmonica only versions online at least. But that's later. We'll see what happens tonight.
Saturday, April 16, 2005 7:41 PM
Saturday, April 16, 2005 7:41 PM
Nope. I can't assume she'll know that by naming the album after her i've put her name indellibly onto the face of the internet.
Argh, so conflicted, do i replace the L's with *'s or not?
Sigh.
I need to record.
Saturday, April 16, 2005 7:42 PM
Saturday, April 16, 2005 7:44 PM
I've already uploaded. it's out there. no looking back.
Saturday, April 16, 2005 7:44 PM
Sunday, April 24, 2005 12:47 PM
Oh dear... With a single sentence, i've felt a very sinking feeling.
"Dear Jack: --Forgive me. You were right. Meet me corner Madison and --th at 8;30 this morning. We leave at noon. PENITENT." (O. Henry, A Newspaper Story)
Oh wait. It's a short story. I mean, for a short story. I'll finish it then explain. Aww, i'm a bit diasppointed by the shortness, but at the same time, it aleviates the sinking.
Sunday, April 24, 2005 12:49 PM
Sunday, April 24, 2005 12:51 PM
Wow. even the establishing bit about morning ritual... but then again, when i adapted it for play, i might not have remembered, but when i first wrote it for short story, I probably was full aware of the allusions that weren't illusions.
Sunday, April 24, 2005 12:52 PM
Sunday, April 24, 2005 1:03 PM
Hmm... Most interesting. of course, it took me about 3 minutes a page to read, my typical speed. But it was most interesting.
I think what i did when i was churlish--and hence young--was simply further the idea, in a direction of course not in going with his well contained story.
of course the hapinstance is in itself beautiful, and would like to expound.
You see I am reading this book, given to me by my mother, for it has to do with irish literature, i suppose, that and we saw a production once that was absolutely horrid appropriating o. henry and it incensed me so much as to make me likewise expound with a vivacity i usually preserve and reserve for this such writing.
i think she... i dunno. But it's kinda interesting that O. Henry's got a crooked face, just like myself. As if someone were to do a trey parker to a canadian, and bisect his head into two parts below the nose, and made the bouncing and tilting pivoting whathaveyou be a representation of talking. We both have that look where we have been pacmaned on one side. Wearing glasses is a pain, which portion do i align the bridge to? The ears, of course, being above the line, just as it is on him, are one higher than the other. either that or they are even and eyes are one higher than the other. And i doubt that very much.
Of course this cover, which i am of course looking off to every so word or two, has his head rested, conveniently, upon his junction spot, whereupon his had will touch. And what a hand, veiny, thick. A hand that's held many a bottle. "Thick and healthy looking" (though i am paraphrasing) one man's health... And that made him the everyman.
if anything this is a reaction to the introduction by victoria blake, my understanding is my mother got to talk with this woman, i think before she got the book, and that I dunno, blah blah, it was just a dusty christmas present until i finished faulkner realized i had no sciam no discov no reading material whatsoever for the everyman's literary journey which need not end in, but almost always invariably starts in, the bathroom. Of course my diet is to blame--as it consists almost entirely of red bull, water, pretzels, and the occassional fast food large combo with a bunch of extra stuff for the fuck of it. i feel old, but better in general, for taking fibrous supplementals.
it is cold today in the garage for some reason.
i merely need to better wrap my lower extremities in blaketry.
I think i have succeeded nomally. ah much better, i've made my blanket scooch so... ah.. but now my butt is unusually cold. it's just too weird feeling. what i need to do is spiral the blanket around me so the it increases in wrappage around the feet terminus.
ah fuck it. i'll just get two blankets.
oh yes... this is what i'm talking about. The smaller bunched around my feet, the damned bathtub trains of heat that they are. actually, it wasn't i merely thought it first and decided upon it second and wrote it third and acted upon it forth is all. forth being right now, i am standing and bending over the keyboard... this isn't very comfortable.
Alright. i make sure my sweats are over my 4th pair of socks. No exageration whatsoever. A pair of brown socks closest to the skin from what i wore yesterday, on my last excursion outside (still standing bending.)
The rest are just whites. They are not as valuable for work and whatnot. LORD have i got a lot of laundry ahead of me.
aaah, now i am warm. it took some elaborate folding to get it perfect, but it is now.
four pairs of socks. slippers. one blanket folded into forths, and wrapped around calves then scootched to the ankles, making sure som (well, doing it right now) some of the blanket, enough now so that they are completely--yeah, now--completely encased, under the foot too, so no cold could inject itself through the layers to my poor feet from the damned concrete (which nonetheless puts up with me my tossing embers and filth upon it constantly)
Anyway, and there there's the second blaket, folded lenthwise, wrapped around the waist... Damn, why do i feel a leak in my left ankle?
it seems upon my readjustment, the inner blanket came undone and made it underfoot-er-wheel for my chair. which tugged it out and now makes it a whole mess, and my foot, my left foot, is just a block of ice.
sigh... i have so much audio... not even that much, like an hour, i should jut get it done, its just so rote. that's what vapes are for. oh dear... what am i going to do when i need another red bull? of course, damn it, i just killed another.
anyway, it said the new--the introduction that is--oh, i don't want to rush this by any means, but what about that oooooh so far away mini fridge, i cannot very well hop all the way there.
What i really need are pizza bags for my feet. the blankets are of different thickness so there's no putting them on seperate feet... oh, but i should try it.
oh, i really should have put teh thicker around the left. and its definitely uneven feeling.
but fuck it, i got a crooked face.
My left foot does feelt considerably warming this way though. than with them both enwrapped.
ah, ingenious. oh yes, i am indeed feeling much better now.
i took a circumventing layer from the right and fixed the left, but now it is so thick with blaket it can't stay under the desk, and i need to splay my legs and now i'm tilted to the monitor, and i can't stand that. oh well, i'll just have it bent more at the knee.
mmm, pretzels.
yeah, cigarettes are better, but not in the long term. i wonder if O Henry... naw, its probably jsut air polution that caused, that and genetics and lack of a vaccine, fucking tb.
anyway, i read the Newspaper Story cause in the introduction blake says it is his most postmodern departure from narrative or something. departure is not her word. she did say postmodern though. a word that lacks almost as much meaning as "proactive."
i do not know where the collection has gone, for it must have gotten moved about with the feet arranging, what with its previous location being abouts my feet, upon the pretzel container. but now there is only pretzels.
At least they are tasty pretzels. i'd give the brandname, but i'm well... Anderson, okay? Anderson Old-Fashioned Rod pretzels are the tastiest pretzels ever. For 6 bucks you can get a tub (I think they've renamed them to drop the "Old-Fashioned") of 36 times 2.5 (serving size natch--but i'd be pissed if someone left half a pretzel rod in my tub) pretzels about the size of... Well, if you had a standard keyboard, one would fit just nicely between your function keys and your numerical... Why does numerical drop the b from number? why isn't it numberical?
oh, cause the root is numeral, is that right? you're so smart eh?
The diameter is about the length of a side of face of key... i.e. since they are truncated four sided pyramids, where the truncation is, take an edge, then think of the diameter of a rod. A rod that is the length of 1234567890 it begins with a ` and it ends with a [ ... well - actually, but when you hit - on dvorak.
Now i am going to take said pretzel rod above my latitudinal row of numbericals and remove it from my view. It was somewhat useful for inspiration, but serves better use as a nutrient.
you do gather that a picture of the author adorns the collection, yes? anyway, i really do need to do some audio editting.
This all came about because I thought I plaguerized O. Henry, unintentionally--which is the only way i'd plaguerize, hence that is the greatest embarassment for an author... naw. that's sitcomish thinking, but it was from a good episode nonetheless, it is seared into your conciousness as well? so it comes to mind, otherwise, fuck it, you don't need to know what sitcom i'm thinking of, for it really isn't worth noting.
anyway, fears were waylayed as soon as it was clear that i merely expounded. though they were already assuaged as soon as i saw the numers of pages ahead of me.
i merely used it as a springboard, and i lept in far more directions, one o. henry could have gone in, were he a writer such as myself--which he is not. still, what of it? nothing to me. i'm certainly not about to slight the man and his work. leave that to the "critics" and the historians for that matter.
But i did like the introduction, it did give a bit of insight into how he wrote. A conceiver and then deliverer. Very good. I'm not so. I get the brewings. I feel the rumblings. Ideas start tumbling, connections are starting to increase their sinewy thickness with nanospiders. I start to write, where it leads is of little concern.
if i'm lucky enough to get to expound on brewings and rumblings much as soon as i read that line...
"Dear Jack: --Forgive me. You were right. Meet me corner Madison and --th at 8;30 this morning. We leave at noon. PENITENT." (O. Henry, A Newspaper Story)
Sunday, April 24, 2005 2:16 PM
Sunday, April 24, 2005 2:47 PM
that explains it, i was fixing a bandage on my left foot, where my big toe got hurt a bit when i tried digging for in my ahabesque way ingrown nail, or a sliver rather that imbedded, maybe... Anyway, after it all, i needed a bandaid, and it was not staying on properly, which would continue the attention to my left foot. Anyway, damn, i still haven't fixed it. Turns out, i only had 3 pairs of socks on! No wonder my feet were cold. Another layer, and i'll replace my slippers... oh yes. see, i put two more bandaids, for i couldn't find my medical tape, and now it is no longer slipping, and it was then i saw only two pairs of white socks. How silly of me.
Of course, even now, my feet are still cold. I had an ex who had a strange family expression (and by ex i mean "the Ex" meaning the only meaningful sexual relationship i had with a woman, as there has been one other sexual period of time between two people and at least on one part an engendering sufficing for relationship, and on the latter a relationship in the sense of an ecosystem but whatever)... Cold hands warm heart. oh wait. it's hands isn't it. my hands aren't cold. What is it about cold feet? Nothing good i don't think. Cold feet warm heart? no, that doesn't even ... yeah, i just looked online, of course its not a strange family expression if it can get googled. and i just ... okay, now i'm getting distracted.
what was my point again?
Sunday, April 24, 2005 2:53 PM
Sunday, April 24, 2005 3:00 PM
Actually, my hands are kinda cold too.
Sunday, April 24, 2005 3:01 PM
Monday, April 25, 2005 11:07 PM
my mind is a terrible think to taste.
despised. That's the word of the day, when you hear it, everyone RUN AWAY.
i'm over it. i'm over being me. over being ... me. over time. and time and time and time again. being me.
I'm sometimes wondering... Am I myself? But unfortunately, always true to form.
i really can't stand the feeling of ... being myself.
my mind, my reactions, my way of thinking, acting, and talking, and where's my god damn cat.
damn, i have... Damn, one more cd to drop off, "I." Naturally, i feel as though i'm so despised she's taken a vacation to avoid me, of course, remember, this is not someone i've spoken to more than...
i'm over me. really, i am. i've gotten sick of it. maybe it was kinda funny at one point, in a neurotic jewish-but-irish way. But no. Now i'm just sick of it.
Big O sing to me. I want security too...
no, i can't be me. it's not a goo dplace to be. a good person to be. i want to dig a whole so deep soooo deep. and i can snuggle into it, the dampest, coldest corner, i will get so tightly wound, and pressed into a corner, i will stay warm.
Everytime i try to "get out there" i start feeling absolutely wretched. Absolutely wretched, disgusting, hated, even. Extrapolations, that's my mind, i do a good job on extrapolating, oh... where a line goes in relation to the edge of this object in that drawing, or ... oh, what's the next note that i may be ready to play it on my harmonica along with the radio. Or... What will it take ... To drive me.. insane.
i shouldn't have, or should... i shouldn't have. i shoulda done other things, i know, other ... No more fixed mentality, that's killing me. But its how i accomplish my art. I know what i want to do. I do it. I keep at it. And i try a route to its end, even if it looks like it may not get me to where i expected, it'll still be better than
i hate being me, for i write the same way over and over. like i'll learn it. I'll figure it out. This next phrase.
maybe castration is the answer. i've curtailed my testosterone as best i can. So much so, why women don't even realize a man is even around when i'm standing a few inches... Yeah right, like i could ever get that close to woman.
i don't know. i don't know what i want. I want to be me. But without the part of me that hates me.
the part of me that feels a failure for not having openned my heart and life to anything but a cat.
but i try openning... and damn, if it doesn't make me want to crumble.
oh... what could be so bad? Hehehehehe... What could possibly be going on in my mind...
Well... actually right now its a bit conflicted, between my own self-pity and a feeling of guilt for that pity, in part from hearing of greater things than myself and my petty problems, hence the value of soul music. I
will replay the song.
yep... there it goes. My body soul and heart and crumbling and tumbling and feeling very very very stupid. Very stupid. Very stupid, what is wrong with me? my mind my idea of what is right and interesting and what sparks. and there i am, being such an asshole, without meaning to be, but being cause i am, not knowing that i am not what i am what i...
yeah, william bell's Tribute to the King, is still beautiful, it pulls me out of my funk. But i am so quick to return.
i don't know... what will become of me. what will i do with my pain? i tried to use it for good, it came to hurt me more.
it don't matter, you don't need to... but ... fuck it. no more. no more women. no more female. no more mentality. no more breathing. no more thinking. no more living. no more eating and sleeping.
goddamn cat ... oh, i want to just cry. i might as well record.
Monday, April 25, 2005 11:29 PM
Tuesday, April 26, 2005 1:04 AM
i feel an intense catharsis. either that or my zoloft is just kicking in... no, i felt it before i took my off switch. it feels good to record. i really didn't care if it was any good. i kinda don't feel like listening to it. but at the same time... kinda don't feel like it needs to be listened to...
all i know, is ... i'm over it. that's all. i'm over it. i'm delivering teh last, of course i didn't give all teh proper takes to all the proper letters. but whatever. i did enough there. i do want to finish the job with the last. nail teh coffin so to speak, let my last gesture pass, and then just go on, like it never happened. i need to recoup.
i wasn't exactly expecting... hell, i don't know what i was expecting, its been a while... maybe i shouldn't even get success at this stage. but i will learn from it, and i will keep it if i can from ... well, from disrupting the success i've made regardless.
i have yet to attain full success in that. But you know what... I need energy for that. this is just making me distracted. i tried. i pretty much failed, i'm fine with that, actually. i get to go back to be left alone, to make music when i want, undisturbed, and to walk about, undisturbed, and to not be called, not be messaged, not be bothered. i only get the occassional skritch of my cat on the door to disrupt my harmony in a blissful way.
So fuck em. i really need to do even better at my job, and i need that energy, so i'm just going to ignore them as adeptly as i had for about a few years now, and let it not bug me the same way, for now i am just too stressed. At least stress is creative juice, in a way. A fairly corosive juice at that. it doesn't encourages me to get ANYTHING done in any other way, not really, i mean, its gotta be mild, if that, which is just the normal backround noise i walk around everyday in. But it does encourage the art, when i'm flippin' mad over what the girl that i am pathetic for.
And for some reason I put it online.
Oh yeah, i'm an artist.
That's good at least...
I mean, it relation to itself, not necessarily... Anyway, why am I not asleep already?
Tuesday, April 26, 2005 1:17 AM
Wednesday, May 4, 2005 7:19 AM
Ever have too much to do? No? What you live in prison?
If I was, say, quarantined, ... Enough of my hermit-mansion dreams.
Now, i only have so much time. So as far as making sense is concerned, don't be.
The amount of self-loathing is ... pretty much staying the same, increasing in social, decreasing in professional. I think i might use this time to psych myself into work, I like doing that.
I work, so I can smoke. Simple as that. If I can work harder, and better, I should be able to get to smoke more. (And, you know, pay off some debts, but whatever.)
And I just say "whatever," because I always keep my word, so i don't stress that. i only stress when it seems I may not get the time I need to fulfill my obligations. And keeping one's word is always a self-imposed obligation. Well, it might be coerced or out of necessity, but the more self-imposed... I dunno, I just think I want to be debt free...
in fact, if anyone who really knows me personally knows i pretty much have only two debts. To my parents, (my mother socially, my father financially). and to one of my friends, i'm not sure if decorum is proper to say who. But if... say... You didn't want your contribution to the arts be a simultaneous contribution against drug control.
You know what I just realized... DARE is only "dare to keep kids off drugs." They only say kids... Of course the Ad Council in years of infinite wisdom that will forever be the undying resource of material for the comics of this nation has the best "I learned it from watching you dad." An ad that at the time could easily have come between an episode of Simpsons and then Cheers. But whatever.
Anyway, we're not talking about Ad Council... God they crack me up. DARE, it too is humorous, but it is true that it is almost entirely about kids... As if.... Well... When you're old enough, you can make your own decision.
I wish I could succeed in something. But i dunno... With success might come a disruption to my balance in life, which i'm actually quite contented by. Since my major complaint was not being utilized to the fullest in work, and of being intruded upon in private. Right now, i got a job where I have to think, and what more, amongst a few tasks i get to pick from, and then I can tackle as only i can, technological and other such things I can be most secure in knowing I'm at least spending my time wisely.
and in private. I have my cat, and no one is knocking my door (I HAVE A DOOR, this was not always the case, nor were walls at one point). No one is calling me incessantly on the phone. Of course, i still have to dodge a call or two from mom. Not often... But sometimes, when I'm busy, or driving, she would hate to have me talking on the phone while driving...
lord I hope she respects my privacy--and my sisters don't inadvertantly rat me out--they should ignore this as well, fucking a... It's not like i'm airing our entire dirty laundry for the world to see--O'Neil is spinning right now.
i am sick of being me, but at the same time, i am not all that displeased. I am not sick of the progress and i'm just sick enough to propell me forward is all. i've been very slowly picking myself up since I last met that "no good woman" "nearly wrecked my life..." I've avoided whiskey well enough, but wimmen, they have surely done it to me. So i have protected myself well, I really do have my poetry to protect me, actually. Oh, speaking of verse, i just gotta of cerse.
with my pot, poetry, and pills, i don't need not pretty girls, i don't need no feeling world... yeah... that's what i'm talking about. got the bupropion (generic welbutrin, get with the times) and a good bakin. Nothing like bakin' in the mornin' to scramble your eggs. Drinking my first of many red bulls today. I'll be openning another crystal geyser in a second. Yes, an entire geyser made out of crystaline lattice. or is it latice? I don't know, I ride without a spell-checker cruise controller. fuck that.
Depends on the project and the app, of course, but for the green room. i'm also going to see what will happen if i don't brush or comb my hair today, i'm kinda curious. i'm dressed a bit casual, but I'm going to do work... oh fuck... now i feel guilty, and now i gotta change outta my jeans and t-shirt. Goddamn i got sooooo much laundry and nooooo time to do it. Well, of course, i could do it. I could also try to get on work on time... Well, hell, i can't change and do that, so I guess... Oh, what a cop out, i'm just being lazy, i'll find something slackish and a sweater, and ... garn...i need to take some pictures, just to show what i'm up against, it's always a trip... later that is... cause its not always this bad... And sometimes, i'm working my way up, and that's why it's not just ...
hmm... i need to get into work mode. First. Turn off music. Okay, second... look and see if you even have anything okay... cordoray, there you go, you got those that have only been worn once, you got a sweater that isn't covered in cat-hair somewhere in there, and even still... uuuugh, i'll just change the jeans, that's just a red-flagger. Oh... But maybe i should try to get to work on time.
Wednesday, May 4, 2005 7:48 AM
Thursday, May 5, 2005 5:58 PM
i haven't vaped resin in a while.
last time made me brain-dead, but in a good way... i was watching Little Nemo timeattack and drawing, it was back when i had noooo money. today is just a day away.
I remember it not tasting good, but i remember it fucked me up hard.
so far... the vapes haven't started.
Like a yenshee I scraped from my collection a little pill, that i put in the chamber... And still nothing... Perhaps i need to up it.
and what will happen after? i don't know...
I'm just tasting barely...
nope... not going yet...
perhaps packing it wasn't the best idea... damn, this tastes like ass.
Theeeeree it goooes...
Lord all migghtty.
nothing like resin vapes... Lord I can feel it.
My eyes are widening, my peripheral vision is blurring. I am now in a world of my own creation. And it's not so bad.
Oh, yeah... Clean resin (sounds like an oxymoron, but it's not--you see i'm a Native American, except not racially or culturally, just in how i try to utilize all parts of ...........................
LORD, it's really going now.
Clean resin, nothing but resin, and lord is it going. Lord almighty, son of god, and the holy ghost, jesus wow.
No cat hair, no dirt, no cleaning agents, not even water, scraped from the purest of pieces, not a spliff has entered, with my favorite implement a single nag champa stick (outscentsed of course).
resin is not for the faint of heart. Nor just for the poor, but it really isn't something i recommend. but i remember it... I recall it, it gets more... you see, its all about how long it goes... it'll go for quite a while.
And I have two hours till poker... When I'll have to sponge off another, but the reason i'm destitute is because i lent money to someone who helped me get to the position of having money, so i don't mind, and when tomorrow comes, it will pass along to the rightful party. Rather than pass right along at the next party.
I wouldn't be in the position--i was expecting to get that money back on monday, but couldn't happen, for this reason or that, it's fine, i'll hit the resin.
i can't wait to be free of the pay-check-pay-check world.
paycheck to paycheck at that.
i'm going to be on my ass by the time this is dead, but i doubt very much i'll get to that point.
i've prepared too much, you can't really revape resin, no more than you can revape leftovers again. Swimmingly.
i wonder sometimes if perhaps I'm actually even smarter than i imagine i am. Gooooleeuo.
Gooooleeeeuoouo.
mushification, intensifitated, instigatory, migratatious, flagrantal, imperishabilitous, incumentable, (i figure, one of these days, i'll actually accidently come across a real word, but not know it, no one will).
No one cares... Is why...
people care, no that's not true. It's the objects of affection... Objects.
Might as well be.
Objectification? Would you object? could I be objected? Can I be objectified?
Well, physically only, i lose, i know. But i don't think objectified means made into a solely soul-less 3-d mass of space. space of mass. or space mass of d-3. cloud nine could take you to a dozen, but i prefer my pills black and sticky. I'm pretty sure they weren't talking about "the little"--as per marketting would have us think, and why isn't that playing in the background? And why is that one guy so fat? Not in a bad way, just in a "damn" way. So anyway, i'm not fat, but i am not attractive, by default means.
So why do i need it so bad from them? Why the fucking double standard?
Hmm, i think of it more as ... Mmm, i'm thinking of some of the beautiful women i know.
God they are so beautiful.
I wish I could draw them. Each of them, beautiful creatures that they are... Objects. People. With souls... But what of them?
That was my point, now that i'm recalling, but in no direct way... DAMN these aren't even tasting bad anymore... God... It's so nice to have hooves for soup. I've made a coin purse out of this buffalo's scrotum. Sure.
Mmm. More red bull. Otis, Big O, you are the man.
Hold her... Try a little... yeah yeah... Don't bruise her... Yeah... No no...
Go otis, now Joe Tex. you tell me what you know. Oh, show.
show me... show me a man that's got a good woman...
i'm fine with slow incubation, latent historonics. yeah, well what about herstoronics? What about hooked on chronics? i want a good woman...
How's that go, you wonder?
you know, i keep putting it off, but right now. the flight of fancy seems short on slow. And my god its only been 20 minutes. No 15...
okay, 20.
i'd time stamp, but fuck it.
its six twenty three... Oh, ain't no woman like the one i got... this playlist is just going to kill me.
i wonder maybe i should take pictures instead. Cause when i'm high, actually, this is a paradise. When others see trash, i see fortress, i see maginot line, i see ... i see my vapes are dying... wait... i just need to ...
there we go.
yeah, a few quick sucks. and then... oh lord, now they be going.
i still need to get a red bull... And then, since i'll be so fast that these will not stop going on me... i'm going to add my poetry. you see... i've a few strange habits at work, which if i mentioned here, might bring undue attention upon myself. maybe undue isn't the right word, undune comes to mind, as in i don't want my world to become said. One of my habits is to sit beneath a tree and draw and write poetry. Having only 15 minutes which i would otherwise maybe spend smoking a cigarette as i'm no doubt trying to escape the suffocation, and then again... I don't mean that its any worse... Lord, remember retail? Lord... Remember having to count the minutes punch the clock and be a number, a number they don't even tell you, a number they don't even know, just another number.
So... my poetry...
Mmm... That's a good picture... I really need to do this all at once. okay, maybe i can find one... Probably my favorite. As i draw a lot of leaves (I've forced myself with my most recent notebook to avoid all abstraction, its in part the needing to not excape entirely, for then i would be most despondent on returning).
"It's like a written record of thought..." That's what "she" the last she, really, until recently, and then even then... I wonder what she's doing right now... My thoughts of her are just perverse.
Okay, now this poem is from 4/4/2005
it is accompanied by an appropriate drawing of a leaf i used my other 15 min. on.
"My love is like a leaf
falling to the ground
leaping off the tree
hitting without sound
step on it
disregard it
deny its existance
without an instance
where it
was actively
dismissed
lips that pass
never miss
my love is like a leaf
expendable and green
ignore it not it seem
still it won't be seen
my love is like a leaf
turned to a golden hue
with time comes relief
and lot less things to do
my love is left to decay
upon the earth and cement
I drew a picture today
but I don't know where it went. 4/4/05"
Of course the drawing of the leaf, spent during, obviously, my first fifteen is right beside it starts at "ground" and ends at the third and final "my love is like a leaf"
now i want to do more... I can't ever be satisfied... What i need, though, is a set up... for my camera and the light, and thus i could just place it on a tripod, baddabing.
some day... some day... That's a lot of moving.
and my vapes are dying with my lack of effort. There we go. Nope... Wait, get the red bull first.
i passed a bon mot with j.b. "what's up [i think he might have called me a 'bitch' as well, but i disregard that as it goes with almost all his salutations regardless of to whom, as long as they are male, naturally]?" "not much." Gets r.b. Luaghs. [That is I laugh.]
I laugh because I hear the bleep-bleep---bleep of the tivo, and see the end credits for another episode of that Alias-Lead-In-lackluster-material-not-that-i'd-watch-the-aforementioned-somehow-it-is-still-not-as-bad-as-this-show-but-hey-my-idea-of-comic-genius-is-Ken-Finklestein's(orwhateverhisnameis)-Some-Canadian-"Newsroom"-that's-genius-shit-and-quality-crime-drama-comes-from-detective-shows-that-have-the-main-character's-eponymous-like-Columbo-or-Kojak-and-that's-pretty-much-it Lost.
"So are they still lost by the end of this episode" I say, being petulant.
"No," responds the equally petulant, "they actually got found a long time ago. They've actually had to change the name of the show."
"Really?" I'll set him up. "To what?"
"Found." Naturally.
i mean, that's easy, hmm... my mind started to wander... i've eaten a pretzel, and i'm going to wash it down it with red bull.
and yet... there's still a small part of me that's almost believing him... That's the part for me and my pretzel and red bull to contemplate. you want another poem? they're damn good. So is a shit load of the art i got lying around here. i think so at least. it needs to be archived! It needs to be saved in digital ...
Oh, and i'll take naw...
i'll linger in ignominy. i've tried igmoniny its not as fun.
"This morning, she did not look up
She walked in without lifting a lash
And though it stang just a bit
Perhaps now I shall ask another's name.
After all what has a leaf to offer
still her car is parked beside me
in my spot of contemplation
but then again, most of the other spots are full
4/13/05"
"Girls diss me on a daily
basis
Life in limbo seems my stasis
I'm getting sick and tired of all these women ignoring me
And yet that is how it is"
That's my poem of the second 15. The drawing is pretty good for this one, but the first drawing is better.
Why should I share this with you? You who might intrude or steal or hurt or ignore ignore, yeah, more likely, ignore ... and i'm soooo not sick of getting ignored. Really.
Actually if we're on the subject of the Russian Camp. one of them, she really cracks me up. She doesn't look down. She doesn't fiddle with something to look at it. She doesn't look off into the vacant distance oblivious. No, she's the best, she's always looking every other which way, twisting and turning and i just smile soooo much. Ah, I laugh now.
I laugh like i do, when i get the straight shit. But it's not that... It's just the way she's flipping her head around more than a Nice and Easy commercial... I don't know if they still have those anymore. But it just cracks me up. One of these days she's going to look directly at me, and mouth the words "because I'm worth it" and i'm going to fall over and die laughing.
that's what they used to say, right? oh, feminine commercials are so humorous.
so much more benign than the stuff they target towards men. i need to up the heat on these vapes. Lord, that girl cracks me up.
I, of course, don't have any poetry or any other mention of her in any other place or instance except this. But it makes my day. Like when i used to get a lash from the girl who is in every one of my poems.
just about at least...
oh yeah, upping my vapes was a good idea.
let me introduce myself, my name is little sonny, i drive a little red volkswagon... i like to go horseback riding... --I seriously have to stop busting into song in both...
Strange, now my vapes taste like chinese food. Good chinese food at least, but i haven't had any chinese food in over a few weeks. It of course doesn't taste like chinese food, but instead has that feeling to it that you get from savoring good chinese.
now, don't get me distracted on thinking of savory asian dishes... I wonder what her message was... yeah, i'm starting to edit myself, so i might as well, give her a call. i don't want to bother with listening. i'm being spurred by the moment, momentously spurrious. Don't worry, i'll probably not even catch her... if i do, timestampin' time i guess.
There, that's over with. I said i just was calling to say hi, and that's what i did. nice... over. she's on her way to see her boyfriend's choir thing, religious stuff... now, the reverend al green is another thing.
I just realized also, a few days ago, that Tired of Being Alone is actually like For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her... The last lyric of the Tired of Being Alone is so mysterious, it makes no sense. Is it "needing you has proven to me to be the biggest dream"... That's what i always used to think. But now... Now i'm realizing it's "meeting you" and then to reinforce it he says "late at night I get to wondering about you..."
Hmm, I'm going to have to put this song on repeat and study the issue further.
boyfriend du jour... but like, in name only, i don't think they've been any bit physical. nor really passionate, i said that sucks, you need passion.
i can say all this, because you shouldn't know who i'm talking about. If you think you do, maybe its because you're racist. No, i'm kidding, of course, but process of elimination, is all i'm saying, could make Dara the obvious left...
Whatever, i'm not thinking about any one girl right now, that's fine by me. i'm thinking of girls a lot more, women, rather, but that's alright... i think... intrusions, i do not need... i need to email someone actually, i love a good excuse, and i'll weave it somehow nicely, and since i've 30 min... oh... i can't do it in 30 min.
I could be any number of other people and be a lot more content.
Perhaps, but then I wouldn't have my art. That would be a fucking shame. Cause I fucking love my art. I'm fucking enamored with my own creative prowess. I can't stand the idea of being seperated from it, from losing it, worst of all, without a trace... I must archive! I must also disceminate, i have so much just stored away on disks that spin for no one but me. And maybe to irritate my 10x hearing feline friend, where is he... that's something i could use right now.
i wonder if listening to this song on repeat will make me very depressed.
is it a girl not yet met? Or not yet known, i think. I think its someone, yes, that he knows, but maybe not well enough, "love me like you say you do"--i don't think this girl has yet. This woman, this beautiful counterpart. He says "needing..." This may all be a pointless exercise. okay, let's just skip to that line...
it's just so hard to comprehend dreaming of a need. Why anyone would want to need someone. The need is already there! That's stupid.
I think i'm just having a hard time... Same old song, but different meaning whenever i hear it.
i have a few ideas... oh, but i really should help fortify my fortress and reclusive cacoon of womb warmth and wellness of mind and time being the elusive motherfucker it is.
Haha, how disjarring. Oh, i should record something... no i shouldn't i don't have that kind of time, people are going to want my attention very shortly, like 30 minutes.
But i can write, i can write as long as i can... well, they're coming in through the door, time is short, and i have to scrounge for the buy-in, but at least i payed off everyone to whom i've borrowed (abouts the table only--and accounts are being kept so restitution and gratitude will eventually be returned, i keep my word, except when i forget giving my word, or maybe if i forget breaking my word, its always a matter of time constraints. but open ended words? oh they get closed, they get closed months or more down the line, but they get closed.
Al, Al Green, let me ask you, what will you do? Humorous to think he'll be performing at a local casino in a few weeks. Here he is preluding my night of poker... i think i'll sort my entire playlist by artist and (by the way, i've conceded there is no For Emily in Tired of Being Alone--this girl is not a complete unknown).
Spendin' my days... thinking about you girl... I could bust this out in 20 minutes. Yeah, if i skip Sha la la... Naw fuck that no skipping. But will i get it done? Who knows, but how else should a greenroom entry end?
I gotta record.
Thursday, May 5, 2005 7:41 PM
Thursday, May 5, 2005 7:41 PM
oh, yeah, the res-apes still goin'.
Thursday, May 5, 2005 7:42 PM
Thursday, May 5, 2005 7:42 PM
Nope gotta email, gotta salvage while i still can, if i can. I know! I so have the approach i need. That way i won't seem like that old yukon miner "stay off my gold!" my barren old craggs of rocks that i call home. so stupid. oh well, anyway, email, then poker, then, maybe later some al green. who knows.
Thursday, May 5, 2005 7:44 PM
Thursday, May 12, 2005 7:21 AM
I so gave up... On the email... that i mention above... i'll tell you what happened...
so... being a man of many hats, i went to the check the email account of this chappeau, and there hadn't been any more by this person.
And the point was to suggest the other chappeau i should be known by... But i was lazy... No... I'm lazy right now, that's not what I mean...
I thought I should put my ... oh, shit, that reminds me of something i need to do... razzenfrazzen.
But my story? Oh, well, in the end i'm now changed my mind, and this miner will use his whiskers and hygiene to keep others at bay (by the way, i've bought a shaving accessory, something i've avoided for a very long time, just because i'm not a person to use the internet for commerce--clearly--never having it been around for that purpose for me--but i could not get this shaving accessory without it.)
This is another story. I went to the other email account, found an email to my mother which asked me to come and spend the saturday before sunday with her as well, suggested we go to the yoga class she goes to there, and spend the rest of the day togother...
Unforturtunately--for this are no mother-son outtings, only family outtings, on holidays... so i gave her a rain check, and just agreed to the church and brunch. But the pain and agonizing of writing that email through the guilt was so debilitating, it took me so long, by the time i was done, friends were at the door, ready to play...
And why was i too busy? What was my reason? A good one. A prior commitmment. I say the aforementioned, but it would be irrespective... Well, i guess i coulda done the soonmentioned at "home"--i.e. that place of "up"bringing. But it was a wise decision for no sooner had we gotten through the door (and fuck them for thinking I'm airing dirty laundry for the world, you're not supposed to be reading this anyway, and if you narc to mom, shit... well, i've already said what i'd do, long ago, back when i was more assured that my sisters weren't interested in my life... family presses you, man, you say you spend a considerable amount of time on a task and parents are allowed to asked and siblings are allowed to see, maybe... I can say no to either, and will....)
i dunno why it makes me go into this neurotic high-pitch when i write. Not one to hide... If this is the result of the puwringing, then fuckin' serves you right if i'm just being honest and letting it go as such, with no premeditation. I don't think, oh yes... let me use this particular example... of course we don't talk about such things. we don't have arguments.
we have non-arguments. About how to clean the pan. Between my father and sister, and they both trying so hard for best behavior. Everybody is... And mom is just hoping for nothing bad to happen. That's how i feel at least. Shit... I wish i had been in better spirits, enough to play the role, and survive the time. I had things to do though. I was in super stress mode. And its sooooo easy to fall into that role. Its allowed. To an extent...
Anwyay, it had to do with the work i said i was... Shit. I wanted to do a bit... I still will.
Different thing, a small thing, so small it'll be insulting to not get it done, especially since it'll allow a little leeway for my perhaps lateness... For indeed, were i to get perfectly on time to work, i'd have to leave... like... now...
And i will, i will, i will have more time now. I had a nice discussion about it, my task, the one that was consuming my last weekend, the one i spent some... 10 hours on... and that's like ultra-concentrate work hours. I don't need you to understand, and i'd rather you didn't. I need this chapeau to stay waaay well under my eyebrow.
This is not something i think will get me much respect. I wouldn't... i actually wouldn't read it. I'd think the honesty of it would make me blush and i'd feel so sorry for this sad sack... But then again, i'd be like "man this guys worse than me..." and perhaps be intrigued enough to stand the horridness of writing style.
i just don't want to get too caufieldee or whatever it would be called. but its not, for he was not a stoner. and i am of course wakin' wit' bakin' bringing a good buzz to carry me through the day... Why? because i can... because i am a creature of ultra-concentrate. I can't do anything at a mild tempo, or with slow rpms, or without a hill bump or escalotor or two... i started this wanting to write some beautiful poetry to the one i have never explicitly said, for i can't.
but that would take even longer to explain. And like i said, i have a little... tiny... small task ahead of me. That i know will take less than 30 min. maybe... Damn, i shoulda done this last night... Fuck, i'll just not be late for work. That's always good.
i'll also do work once i get in, that's also good. i can't waste time, time wastement is not my desire. My life style is ever changing though. Though this greenroom has been particularly green for quite some time, other parts come and go. For one, cigarettes. I can supplement with art if nothing else.
So... i can't do that. Not now, not now that i have so little time... BUT, if i forgo this bullshit tonight, betwixt the time of getting off work and beginning of poker assuming it is to occur as usual. I can devote myself to it. And i've already written about it, so now i gotta do it, and it's so minor a thing, it's something i shoulda done a long time ago, etc. etc. In other words, i don't mind having to do it. I didn't really mind the other work either, for i think i may have already expounded on how it was mind encompasing.
My mind is now like a much too wise, but still too playful kitten. I'll fuck about anyway i chose. I do my art, which i need, to breathe. and i'll let soul music cry when i don't want to, or when i'd rather sing. for that makes it better... (so says Sam & Dave right now, they harmonize while i type it... "just what... uh huh... she means to me now.... oooooh you just wouldn't. you just wouldn't understand... people tend to say she's no good..... but oooh she's my woman... and i know i'm her man............. and if she's.... got a problem................. ooooooooooooooooh, oh, i know i know i gotta help her solve em, if something is wrong with my baby... sho nuff... something is wrong with me............ now say that again.... something is wrong with my baby.... oooooooooh something is wrong.... with me....... oh")
I just had to get that out, since i'm vaping and singing at the same time is somewhat impossible.
Anyway, time to get to work, fairly early for me...
Thursday, May 12, 2005 7:57 AM
Tuesday, May 17, 2005 6:50 AM
i got a fair amount of sleep i think. Now what to do with the waking mind.
Getting a good vape for the day ahead. No more lates--never cause of the vapes. Lates never cause of the vapes. Hmm... I'm guessing The Premiers from Stax are not the same as the psychedelic group on Nuggets.
Pretty good song, they come right after The Nightingales, have you heard the song "I don't want to be like my dad?" Good shit.
Now i'm skipping ahead to William Bell "Tribute to a King" I hope it doesn't make me too sad. It's a fucking sad song.
i'd like to not have to work again, but just sing and play guitar and harmonica and write and live off my ideas. Eat them for breakfast and drive them around.
god this is a sad song.
I've done my interpretation of the jaheim song, which is his interpretation of the william bell song, --scratch all that. i didn't do an interpretation, i did a cover. i wish i could record now instead of ... no, i would waste too much time, not waste, but i'd definitely not want to stop and go to work.
i have so much art, and if i don't get it to the world, it'll be a huge disservice. and if i make myself accessible to the public, there is no way to not make money in the capitalistic society. For the common man and woman says to himself/herself: "I can not do what this artist can, but i can do what i do to service mankind/womankind and provide for my own kind, and i have this thing called money, which is so important."
Have i mentioned lately my distaste for money? I like only what it buys and how it secures. But how it injures and insults and infects and ... Whatever, that's like hating chairs. Or knives.
i've changed my music. sticks mcghee "drinkin' wine spo-dee-o-dee" oh yeah. i was originally going to have "I forgot to be your lover" on repeat, but instead i think i'll do this song.
I still remember fondly when I discovered "Hazy Shade of Winter" by Simon and Garfunkle about 5 years ago, shit... 6. God i'm aging so. But alright. Anyway, i remember fondly annoying my girlfriend with my putting this song on repeat and listening to it over and over. She thought I was insane. just because I wanted to constantly repeat the same thing?
i am fine with mine, you get along your way, i'll stay, you can drink your wine, bop-ba, elderberry, port sherry, blackberry, half-n-half, oh boy, pass that bottle to me. Drink that slop!
it's a very good song. Now I don't drink wine. But i do smoke every day, so i understand this song, very well. I never drank "vodka with lime" or however it went in that aforementioned song.
Here we go again... Down in New Orlean's...
I have no idea who Stick McGhee is, nor do i particularly like the other song i have by him, but i bet he has plenty more to explore, but i'm too paranoid now to afetr expressing so online, but i would be curious to see a Stick McGhee revival all of the sudden.
Elderberry, port sherry... black berry... half and half... oh boy... The musicians are simply incredible.
its like doing something everyday. it makes you a member of a life and understanding beyond that of others. But the expense is more than most are will to admit/accept--if not incur, for it is unavoidable, when 25% of the population (or whatever the percentage, it is clearly more than none at all) is... maybe... i dunno, maybe addictive tendencies should be looked as more a spectrum, at the loosest it's the reward system in all humans. Still there are those who have decided... Oh boy, pass that bottle to me, drink that slop, that's what i'm talkin' about, ah drink it, sneak a peep, now down on rumber's street...
"when you buyin' sherry now you're doin things smart."
so i only felt old because that was probably my last girfriend of signifigance. Nor am I surprised. i seemed to know from a youthful age that I was going to be solitary for quite a while, then I will find another antisocial ilkeminded and we'll be antisocial together like both our parents will be, and should she be an addict... I dunno. Cause she could not be, but merely say the odd one of the family, the rest of whom are down on rumber street as we speak. maybe that's my mother, maybe i got half the set-up, maybe i need gregor mendel in here cause i never was good at pundit squares, cause it's all politics nowadays anyways.
I'm pretty sure there's a missing H and ...
I hear a loud crash sound, and look behind me, to see my cat and his ears turned backward. Immediately I am relaxed, for the only concern I had is in view and safe. He looks so comfortable and relaxed upon my bed.
"when you buy sherry now you doin' things smart."
not sure, i'm not about to stop the song and ... oh, need to set the alarm, for i am going to be on-time / early today. maybe. maybe i'll just be on-time like i was yesterday, like i will be. Sometimes it seems like working hard can't be appreciated till after the sweat has been made drinkable. vapes dyin' uppin' the slider. just a bit.
maybe it's sneak a peek.
that makes a lot more sense. I'm sure it's not sneaky pete.
i also know its not a pundit square... don't you? i dunno. have you ever bisected a right-angle? and if so, do these letters look familiar? L? and of course... I'm not going to make it easy for you.
But think symmetrical.
i'm out of this mentality, i don't need it. What i need is m... there we go.
now they're going.
kinda, they're goin' kinda weak. Need to put more lungal effort into it. i told myself to set the alarm, but i didn't actually do it. Now i have.
whatever. i'm blackening it. it's usually worth it, if your first time throughing it and you want to be sure you got it all. damn it, doesn't really settle very well. the heatgun, i've jerry-rigged something a few months back, and live by it. natch.
fuck this. i'm killing these vapes, leaving me some fairly useful leftovers, and doing it the old fashioned way for a bowl, all i got time for.
not even a full bowl... i'm actually doing pretty good, the onset of the vapes being twice as long/hard... i'm just doing this for taste. so i'm actually doing a third of a bowl. just for taste, no need to smokify my room before i go if i don't have to, since i have to leave it open for my cat.... Ummm... and i'm also going to have to set up my video cameras, motion sensors and heat-seaking robots armed to the teeth.
right... hmm... maybe i should start slowing my typing/mind to edit... naaaaaaaaw. that's like stopping this song... black berry, half and half, oh boy, pass that bottle...
what makes a mother a hamster? did john clease's father smell of elderberries? who knows which one of them wrote that line, and probably yes, to all of them. i have explained before why i know i can't/won't be an alcoholic? i've seen myself drunk. not a way to live. and if i do it, i do it for living, everyday, a subcreature of habit, that is i.
i find that i can substitute. i have my sketchbook for my fifteen minutes of court-yard freedom. I used to use that time... Oh and so many other times, whenever i'd stress, i suppose, or whenever i saw a coworker do it... No more coworkers do it, that helps... A promise to myself a few months ago also helps.
i can use my word as a support when i need to. Of course! When your friend tells you you're going to a friend's place, and then you're on your way, and they tell you its a house party, and you reluctantly, (needs to take a hit), (doesn't need to, but thinks it's funny,) you reluctantly, park and start walking, to this supposed house party, thank god for sketch books, okay, that's what i'm going to do after this, but that's it, i'll still be early-on-time (damn alarm)... And then you finally hear, after walking for half an hour--there being unusually little parking, oh, by the way, they're all going to PB block party and are in a bar of all things... The least appealing of ideas i could ever ever think of... I had to find my friend, i had to get out of there. I was too far to turn back, and the fucker didn't give me the right directions, so i'm about to have an anxiety attack because i'm surrounded by people. So i nearly do, and maybe did, cause i sat near a dumpster (some passing joker "you're sitting next to a dumpster" good shade, i said back) and drew, until i finally get through to my friend and realize i have to start walking as i've been yelling "no i don't know where that bar is, cause i don't go to pb and get drunk every fucking weekend!" not that my friend does, but it seemed like every person who passed me did, and i was so loud, i dare say that once i got up and started walking, i passed a just-stopped motorcop dismounting, i wonder if he was going to for me. Anyway, after going two different wrong directions based on directions my friend swears were given by a drunk girl and should not be trusted (did not hear that part), i finally went and bought myself a cold red bull and two vanilla prime time individual cigar things... I text messaged my friend never to do this again, told him also that i understood he doesn't always remember my anxiety, and smoked those two motherfuckers and dare say i felt much better. i've transgressed maybe 4 times? maybe even half a dozen times. but i've been good for the most part. OKAY, now wasn't i going to be early-on-time? if i don't leave right now, i'm not even going to be ... okay, i will be, but i don't want to ... oh well, i'll take a picture of that drawing later, and i'll upload it, it was a fairly good drawing, even if it was done next to a dumpster.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005 7:51 AM
Wednesday, May 18, 2005 9:28 PM
i'll take my pill and begin the calm of night. What do you know of being despised?
i am not talking to the one i'm thinking of right now, but instead to all others. Who have this same feeling as I do. The wretchedness of being. The self-loathing and pain.
inflicted. injected. imbibed and inhaled.
being despised is not fun. is not what is true. is only within the mind. Despised? Not at all. Clearly the, nearly the... opposite almost.
i imagined the wind professed its love for me, that's how gone i have far.
i swear it actually called me by name. and i imagined the wind was the one i'm thinking of right now.
and i couldn't believe it. And i didn't believe it, and i gently tried to toss it off my mind, and my lips were so calm and together, that it took me so much effort, to eventually part them, and knowing, knowing, it was only the wind, responded back that i felt the same.
and heard the one i was thinking of, on the other side, far away, as if the wind took the one i'm thinking of there.
Fuck, i'm over it, i am, and mature, lord knows, and i just want to love, not change, not do anything but. and patience, be it as it was, the way i get by with that same wretchedness, that wretchedness I know you share, for you are not the one i'm thinking of rgiht now.
For you and I we are the same, we both think of the one i'm thinking of right now.
The one can be one of so many. Why... I've loved them near and far, sooner and later, quiet and loud, exotic and plain, from a distance, from right next to them, to where i can't stand it any longer.
to wheri can't stand it. for the one i am thinking of right now said something about something that makes me think things i shouldn't. You know i shouldn't. I know you shouldn't.
i know exactly what song i want to listen to right now. Joe Tex, Hold On To What You Got. That's right, repeat for me. put it on repeat, and remind me what i'm thinking of.
what i'm trying to not think of.
I think time may be on my side, i have the patience i think i need... That you think you need, that you keep putting in. For whom? Whom I wonder. For I wonder about myself many times. Let's try it... 1 2 3... Nope, still here.
Still, it's a good song. near and far. sooner and later. patience and waiting... and being the best for the right one, and being the best for the wrong one too. You know what I'm talking about at least. The one I'm thinking about, the one you are thinking about right now, you don't want to, do you? But you are...
no woman's ever pitched me on the street, so i suppose that's why the experiment didn't work. i've either not gotten on the street or i've been there till the end, and then i stopped it. i don't need all the stuff he's talking about, when it comes to a woman, i just want ... maybe i should put on brother Solomon Burke... Or that wicked wicked pickett.
i'd do the song myself, but, i suppose i can write about it nonetheless.
my melancholy is strange. The pang is mild compared to the high, so i'm not hurting, just wanting more... you know what i'm talking about. You know what it's like, to see not what ... Well, it doesn't matter what you see in the mirror, all you want is to be seen as beautiful to the one you think is so beautiful that you think about him or her or it or however it is for you, for me, its a her, of course, i can't go further, i've gone too far, gone too far too long, too much, in the mind, i find, i can, at times, if i avoid the routes most others will hang about and viwe the easy way, for its an easier way...
Hmm... My cat is not there. I assumed he would be. I dunno why. Maybe because i can't bear hearing the wind. Or this song, i have to, well, i don't have to do anything, but i think i might want to sleep.
Despised, that's what we are, you and i, so the same, and yet you, you might well be desiring me. and i could very well already have made it clear what i feel. whom i desire. who might well be desiring you, who knows nowadays.
nowadays, things aren't the same, i don't need a woman to take care of me, or for me to take care of, at least in no typical domestic/financial way, non-respectively. yeah, i really need to stop this song. i also really need to stop writing and stop thinking. But i can't do anything about that.
i could not write it, but whatever. it is what i'm thinking. and it's nothing new to me. it's the typical thing.
But i tell you what. And yeah, i'm talking to you, and no, you don't desire me, hell, you probably have never met me, now you, you need to hear this one thing very well. If you know someone desires you, never think you are not good enough, not going to be enough, all that the other person wants, that the disappointment that person will get is not worth the reception of arms at horizon fading... you are insane. absolutely insane. for how am i... okay, who am i talking to? How are they going to know you aren't what they want, and ...
Ah fuck it. Who am I even trying to convince? I dunno. I guess the ones who desire each other. Oh, I know those, and some of them are doing pretty good, most of the time, but they don't... I dunno. my ssri de noche is cempelling me to suenos. Oh, the point was silly, really, but it was simple, just that if you're one of the lucky ones, to know if the one you desire finds you desirable as well, just don't be selfish with it, just because you're afraid (of course none of this applies to me, for i am committed to being an idiot, and shy, i suppose, but that's where art comes in, i suppose, and i get it out, i suppose) but okay, women, yes, i am speaking to you, in particular, and i'm talking about the guy who you know thinks you are desirable, you...
My words are slowing, slowing and tiring and continuing on some quite awful circuitous routes. and i don't know why i let them. why i encourage them. and others, others will not, how are they to know? what i want is to be ignored, for i babble and mumble and neurotically spin off in directions i don't need. i don't. i don't need the edge of tears, why? you don't either, do you? so what? should you settle?
Or should you continue the solitary life i lead? Ah, don't settle, just because some guy, oh, like me, might desire you, you don't desire him, it's cool, don't settle, you got some guy you're desiring that you don't know about desiring you.. Shit, i know what that's like. You know then that's another thing. But asking? Well, then shit... But maybe you have. You haven't in any direct way, in such an oblique way, to survive the answer however it may come... And then it came in the obliquest of ways from the one you are thinking of right now, for that person is even more lost than you.
or maybe you and that person, and my person, y'all are sane. and i'm insane. that's quite possible. i am listening to the same song over and over again, it does have an effect i think. ... sigh... i just want to give love, but i don't want to give it easily or cheaply, or where it won't be ... i'm sighing too deeply for my own good now.
I've turned off my music, i've got my earplugs in. it is time for my sleep, i need my cat, and then let not-to-be-out-dunne-and-not-too-proud-for-being-the-less-famous-family-member sleep . i will sleep, and try not to think of what people must think of me. And try not to think of what I keep thinking of. And you shouldn't be thinking it either. Unless you got someone who's doing the same thing about you, and you know they're super shy like me, and really fucking nice, and will give you nothing but love, but needs you to make the move (s)he can't because the time/place won't permit, and you... you instead think about the one you're thinking about right now. just like i, think about the one i'm thinking about right now. Because we are both idiots.
and i need to hide. and cry, and and then relieve and regret having said anyihing at all, and hope it was ignored all of it, oh if i weren't an artist, and the kind of artist that i am, i could just delete this all, and i wouldn't have to worry about it, worry about how it may or may not be received, and by whom. You, you on the other hand, have to just suffer quietly. i get to wail and let others stare as they pass, and i've an intense, intense ...
lightness of being when i'm returned back to when i was still in presence, and then in afterglow, and just about all the goodness i felt before i started dwelling on my greed for more. for i am actually quite well off with what i got. should sustain me for a week or so... still, maybe a good cry would help the pain... i can't very well tell you about my crying plans, my schedule of wailing. i just nede to do it, in private, without all the folderal, but my art is folderal, is a lack of an off ... well, i guess there is an off-button. why did i have to make an ass of myself, again... again. in my blog. i know other people are going to read this... fuck, oh well, so i'm an idiot, and yeah, this is why. but you're no better, or maybe you are i dunno, if you aren't i suggest you go have a good cry too. actually, now i'm all self-conscious, i'm not going to cry... besides, i need to leave the door open for the cat. you know, actually, i'll probably just do some silent tears, those do the trick, no one even knows they're happening. lord knows when the wind professed its love to me i felt them coming on, but i wasn't going to have sleep be my chaser, and i didn't have darkness and aloneness to sheathe me. and i dunno, you tell me if you ever want to hear it so bad that you imagine it, even when you weren't even expecting it, you don't ... have any idea what i'm talking about do you? good. i need to sleep, that i think we can agree upon. god what a waste of time and mind, at least it wasn't mine, for i have no time worth keeping, and mind left for losing, so i dunno, i'd say sorry, but you're going to use all of this against me, so no sympathy. damn, sleep. wretched.
just wretched. despised. that's another good word for it.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005 10:36 PM
Thursday, May 19, 2005 7:46 AM
So maybe the secret to the unified field theorem is to accept the anthropic principle, but not in that "they got it right the first time." Perhaps, before the big bang, there had been a few of these failed universeses. Ones that had constants and properties that were bound to fail... And rather than they are still around, but in distant space, or in different dimensions, they all indeed have different epicenters all over the universe, but their effects could span the entire distance. That's all that's left of them, though, residuals. How many failed universes?
I figure you could probably work out the math to see how many it would take, and i'm sure all the failed ones, that would appear and disappear within the same instant, every quabillion years or so, would have no effect on ours. but every once in a while, one of them is going to put in one of those weird effects that neither the classical no quantum model could predict.
And what is the true model for our universe? My guess is occam's razor, and in fact it is the classical model, everything else is due to other failed universes. And by doing the math (i.e. set a computer on "go" and run down every freakin' scenario) you could see what failed universes would create the effects we see, should predict effects we haven't seen yet but could experiment to find. By the number of weird things--deviations from the classical model--we should be able to see how many tries it took...
But more importantly, after we do all the scenarios, we can test out each of the fail universes that have lasting effects, and see if they had happened before we happened upon this over-riding and current universe by experimentation. Then, we take the general equation of our universe, and add all these other residual equations, and there you go, the unified field theorem.
Anyway, I gotta go to work, I just wanted to expound on a subject that will hopefully discourage the curious from delving deeper into my recent bloggery, for i am fairly embarassed, oh, great, that's going to discourage... Hopefully you didn't get past anthropic.
Thursday, May 19, 2005 8:03 AM
Tuesday, May 24, 2005 7:27 PM
my melancholy is in full swing. i have a lot of plans, little time. lots of plans. little little time. things for everyone. things for them. things for people i'd tell of, but for their sake, for i don't know, it can go bad sometimes, its not worth the good times for just about everyone i've asked about it, but why ask if i perceive no ... i just wait a few years before most people get psuedonymized anyway.
music is almost unfair to me, the thought i can... my restlessness of energy is a bit... i should probably get sleep.
i probably should.
i can't even be slightly oblique. i can't say whom i'm thinking of. i have to be so oblique, for we'll see, for now, besides that is how my mind is fragmenting anyway........................
i know.
i need something to do.
i'm sure by the time i'm done i'm going to want to take the pictures too, and then i'm going to be like, what's with doing this tgr, and then i'll think, well there's probably more i should do, this isn't and blah blah, or it'll kill the little spirit going into the project as it is. Nonetheless, i'll force it out, for i am clearly being difficult tonight. and i need to do some art, or my head might explode... oh right... now i remember, i had to, um, well, my morning ritual was curtailed by my helping with something, that i can't even describe, until i know it is outliving my usefulness, though i'm sure i've more, but not everything evolves, not always how you want it... and then there's the ones you know. you hear and listen and talk to, with time time time time.
Her, "the one i'm thinking about" which isn't the one that's in almost all of this... i'm doing this for her, i don't know why... i'm attributing, say to her, this one solitary act of transcribing and making available the poetry i've been writing the last three months... Why i don't know.
and the one i'm thinking about i must be so oblique about, so it should be, since who knows, not i, and i don't know why, i even ... chagrin, as i do, at the though of ... nothing, i suppose. i had that worry like when the delight of nakedness is taken back by the leariness of the less delightful. still i must write, i must do that much, but present, isn't necessarily... i mean, i could fold the laundry, i need to do that, that's no question.
"the one i'm thinking about" is definitely beautiful. but so are the others. not many others. only two present tense and less than ten in the past, and even then, a lot of those presumables excelerating time to the current. i need to learn more about all of them.
i feel a bit overwhelmed with just this non-activity and planning. being shy can be very tiring... so I must be progressive. the notebook is so close. the time it would take is so little why the fear why? its jsut words, words you always thought might well spill out off the page, and be shared, you don't fear the sharing the image. why the thought? i do though. i do. But for her, since i already said it was for her, and then i must sleep, for i must get some sleep... maybe i should do it in the morning? no, can't, that's crazy talk. but you know what? i'm having that thought, you know, the right way to do it. which is to take pictures, and have them next to the art, for they really don't work as well on their own, and with the magic of photo manipulation i can ... i still need to fold laundry ... add the poetry...
Why am i such a wuss... cause i've had about oh... 3 or 4 hours of sleep, each of the last two nights. i 'm not functioning at even near par. but i'm pushing, as i always do, but i'm not getting paid, and i've already kinda dedicated, though it's not, since it's almost entirely for this other...
Fuck it, i'll just do as much until the zoloft kicks in, that's fair.
chasing (as is everything in my life, one big chaser to the first)... tiring... take it first, chase it with that red bull, pack a bowl, cause i honestly don't have the effort to load the vape and my head is tired, i'm afraid to take teh ... that's stupid, god i have work tomorrrow, and my mind is mush now, it need demushiness for tomorrow, needs sleep to settle this nest. Okay, first. take it.
besides, this way tomorrow i'll have plenty of time for a full ritual, and i'll need that for the entirity of the day.
step one accomplished. i'm looking forward to step two actually.
step two accomplished. okay... i see the notebook from here...
you really need the pictures.
so this is dedicated to.. .well let's just call her the wind. No that's not fair to the subject of the poems... just remember its the act only i'm dedicating, the poems, when they were written, where they were written about for and around whom they were written, that's another entirely different thing. But this act. This act of bringing them forth to the world. I dedicate to the wind.
So after 28 days of drawing, i decide to stray into the written, but i've kept true to the unabstraction... even the poetry at its most abstract is still very much rooted to the place of work, where i'd get my fifteens and i like being undisturbed, and i pray that i will be, but i don't really, no more than i really believe in the wind. of course i'll play along though once i've convinced myself its not true.
3/28/2005
I usually take this time to draw
But I feel compelled to write.
Sitting outde the office
I contemplate my yearnings
How I can relive a simple passing
Without even eye contact, I might as well not be there
The torture I bring to myself doesn't seem fair
But that's never stopped me before
It seems unreal why do I look with such lenses
The rest of the day seems so longer until then
And then it becomes nothing to the eternity
Of my mind snapshotting each pose she makes unintentionally
Baser desires I have learned to and can quell
But this fantasy of merely getting to be near and hear
All that she has to show me, perhaps she...
She can be that which inspires me, never tires of me
Maybe I'm delusional.
Her body sculpted, her face with the same loving care
Aloof she smiles and its all I ever get
"We have to meet some other way
Than passing on the stairs or however
Sometime to sit down and talk
And let me know you better."
Let me know how deep the sculptor's hands will mold
This perhaps I can understand
Perhaps then I can not hurt and yearn and breathe only
possibilities, can she be all
First and last, reason to wake, reason to sleep
Tender gentle mild kind loving holding caressing mind
I honestly can't take much more
though some how I breathe again and again
And I keep wanting a breath to last me
I usually take this time to draw
I probably should, for the future
I probably should
I probably shouldn't care if she smiles if she sees me
I probably shouldn't care if she sees me at all
I probably shouldn't even look to see
I probably know what I'll see
A simple passing, no eye contact, not today
Still I yearn for another breath.
3/29/2005
So I wrote yesterday
and as long as I
keep to the landscape
around me, I feel I
will stay true to this note
book, for I must be true
to the one thing I can
depend on to hear my
thoughts and speak my
words and show what's
inside and stays that way
But I do like to draw
and my drawing is often
more legible than my
writing I suppose that is
clear enough without saying
But words and drawings
aside, decide, where my
thoughts should lie to whom
and why I have a nice lil'
spot outside the office
in the shade by a tree
where cars are not allowed
unless they have a little
blue placard passcard but
even then one would use
the space across leads
right to the ramp and by
the driver's side there's...
Reson enough for me to be amused, if you had my vantage point you certainly
would be, for I sit by the entrance to the female dominant office with the
many attractive employees who may think I a perv for such real-estate
as the handicap space I reside one of the many cute ones, perhaps too cute
just walked by and avoided eye contact entirely, I'm looking left, I'm looking
right
sure babe whatever, I'll do a pathetic hand gesture and let you pass my lass
and smirk for another goes by, and yes I suppose I do find it pleasant
at times, but also the view, the true view, the one Muybridge and Muir
well more Muir, since I would cut down a tree for a picture I'd feel compelled
to draw it in anyway, eh, but I'm not out to impress nobody, clearly, nor
satisfy nobody, clearly, for I satisfy myself just fine, just fine, lookin'
every
which way but toward the handicapper, that's cool, that's cool, I love
my spot, with its rainbird sprinkler head and tree and five pointed
leaves and the gravel, the gravel is good here too, I've started drawing
(and writing) (apparently) because I used to love a girl named nicky
nicky nicotine oh those wonderful sticks of death slow and cool drag
I only have 15 min before and after lunch, if I coincide with when the
boss leaves for lunch or what have you, I can have an extended for special
art sessions such as this one where I pen(ciled) (yet without erasing)
(the other erasing was from my drawing during the first break) perhaps
if I wanted it to be read by others, perhaps if I cared for them to hear
only what I cared to show, perhaps then I would erase. But not this
time for these are not words, no, but a drawing, an--a in--never-
mind, erasing is convenient sometimes, anyway so let's see, what else,
um what's new? naw that's old perhaps something else, why don't you
start it would be much easier that way, I feel like I've done all the
talking don't you maybe its just me I'm kinda neurotic, no it's true
I got interrupted with a phone call three lines down
under the drawing.
I talked to someone... it was a good talk, i think... the one i
helped before, i think i mentioned it, anyway, its why i've no sleep, thus no
conscience, for goddamnit, i gotta get some fucking sleep this time. Anyway,
more later, sleep sooner.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005 9:38 PM
Friday, June 3, 2005 11:19 PM
One of those... One of those... Must pack. Well, must write. But i might as well pack.
Mmm, good stuff.
Hold it in, till it burns my mind out.
Let me be that pillar of ash, ready to blow away in the wind.
Why am I awake? You don't ask?
Maybe I won't tell you. I don't even need to write, i just need to talk. but since i've been very very very very very young, that's what writing is.
Cheap, very cheap, very accessible, therapy.
Gibby's acting up. I can't blame that on my modern troubles, but that's not going to stop me.
From complaining, that's what I need to do right now.
except there's a small part of me that's worried, worried, as i always must be, in this case, of my ------ maybe reading my blog. I don't even know if this ------ knows of my site, and i certainly have not ventured info, but no matter--normally--except right now, i can't sleep because nothing directly involving my ------, just a decision made by that ------.
And it's got me to no end of distraught.
pack and puff, and maybe it won't seem so. because it will.
and why what's so bad about this current situation? lord knows i've thought about it enough, i can go over it, but so close to the edge of being too far.
Fuck, i don't need to say why, but lets just say, it has to do with ... my father, and people don't get ------ ------ for no reason, and the former ------ who got ------ ------, who does know about this site, but i doubt very likely to be a loyal reader. I didn't like ------- with her. I said to her once, "you know, i really like having you as my -------." But it was as close to a lie as i could get in my shiningest optimism. For this ------- had no compunction against lies. Lies that she would tell all the time, and it disgusted me. It disgusts me to be around it, and further, she liked country music. I prayed for her to play some latino ritmo, that i can hang with. Bandazo even. Mariachi music, i'd love it! But country? i can't hang. The last good country artist was Tenesee Ernie Ford, who's also coincidently the only good country artist i can think of right now. But whatever, country is sooooooooo not important.
But it's all part of a package you see. What's with country? Yeah yeah, the cliche, "my dog died, my wife up and left me," but why? "Cause i'm sittin' here with my six-pack and shotgun, waitin' for someone to piss me off." That's not in every song... And it's not like my music doesn't celebrate drinking at times (but spends equal time denegrating it though, as a pestilence to the strength of their culture--not that we yokels like to think that, where's my Nascar beer-drinking hat?). Maybe i'm wrong........
I'd like to take this time to say... i could deal with my gf being a drinker... wouldn't like it, per se... But wouldn't dislike it either. Its not the substance that matters. It's hogwash one might say. It's how they act under it. How it makes them. When you're young, its like (if you're a girl) "woo hoo, i'm getting drunk and becoming popular because i'm losing the inhibitions from not being naturally attractive and thus needing to be more sexually active to attract men. Oh, dear, i never used to have hips. Naw, it looks good. Ugggh, hang-over, nobody better piss me off today." Maybe they're so surly cause you can't get good and wet and ------- your ------, you gotta wait til you get home. So you can incapacitate yourself then.
anyway, i'll get used to it, i suppose, it won't have to be so bad... But i did dislike my old arrangement, and i've been sooo happy with my new. I'm at a place of contentment, i seemed relax, my ------- said, but that was before this. And i was slick, too, very slick. You see, oh, i can't go into specifics. i don't really want to anyway. it's all boiling down to this anyway... i'm afraid of change. i'll admit it. i am. and my ------- is very sensible, if it isn't working out, ------'ll be sensible, and clearly, all that matters to me, really is that the person gets their ------ ------, doesn't lie, and hell, i'll deal with surliness, and we'll just not listen to music. But no liars.
And that's not a substance thing at all. That's another thing. Another thing totally unrelated to this new person. This new person could have been the old person. Remember that. (Telling myself.) It can't be as bad as that. You had to come into that, this is one entering upon the status quo where i've already proven my resourceful/usefulness. And if the person wants to -------, and not chat all fucking day online. And as I'm kinda hinting, my father got ------ ------, and it was maybe because he was a little surly, but he's clearly intelligent. And, actually, wait, i don't like where this argument is going, cause in the end the parallel is do I want to ----- with my father again? and the answer to that is GOD NO. hell no. fuck no. not likely. not this lifetime. not the next. not ...
Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't a "------" but a -------, that's an interesting concept. But again, the thing is, other than drinking, the three of these people have not much in common.
I don't want to have to edit myself. Censor myself. Keep myself from getting off my chest these problems, but maybe i should... maybe i should... Just enough that i'll be able to understand it when i read it later, but since, well, fuck, i really don't care about others... yeah... that's an idea.
i'm going to toss in some hyphens.
i don't think I used enough. I'm going to have to throw in a bunch of filler this weekend to hide that from the ------.
and hey, it's not like i've even really been told explicitly that the third is the same as the two in that way. That's just my extrapolation. Met the person once, have no impression really... Except, i'm in a good place, and it seemed almost stable. Almost. Now i'm just a bit anxious is all.
I'll still -----, i just might not look forward to waking up in the morning to ----- ----- it. I'm a hard ----- regardless. And if there's something i don't like, i'm sure it will eventually trip that person up, and the sensible will sensibly dispose of the chaff. Again, i'm stressin' over what may be nothing. I'm sure the person who's setting up this person with the sensible, is not going to screw over the sensible, not intentionally... but the person setting up the person with the sensible is vulnerable to judgement of a familial kind, hence the person making it the front of the sensible list.
it's not that i'm patronizing my audience by saying that they'll never understand it, i'm too complex, never could they decypher it--but rather, its convoluted, and why?, to purposely obfuscate?, and for any good reason?, no. It's not worth your time.
I need to think about other things now.
I need to, but i won't.
I took my zoloft, and i lay in bed, i even had my cat at my feet, and it hadn't kicked in, maybe if i killed time for a while it wouldn't have been so annoyingly uneffective my laying in that bed. So, I felt that feeling. that feeling i first fell probably around 6th or 7th grade. I'm feeling all kinds of frustration, i don't know why. I should just be able to sleep, but i can't. The world and it's horridness (it's just full of it, if you didn't know) would swoop in and out and down upon my poor mind like harpies of neuroticism. It's weird to think of kids as being neurotic, it's easier to think of them as being "weird." Guess i was weird. i wasn't too weird. really, i got weird once i started college. but the feeling. the feeling i felt way back then.
and to this day, i feel that feeling, i don't need to smoke, i almost didn't but i didn't want to bust out the grey background, cause it would seem so defeatist.
i could instead maybe talk about good things, i should. i should also remember that it's not necessarily a bad thing, i can have faith in my sensible ------. i can wait. i can wait... i can be patient, i must not flip out. must not anxiety od. and i'm not going to. i'll be over it by then, i just found out about... well, since my last circadian, at the very least.
That's just -----, anyway... I'm over that. It's not even an issue. Really... ... It'll be alright. I need to give people a chance--but people suck, most people really do suck. i get to know them, and they suck. they are boring and/or-usually-and liars. I should totally be more open about this, i am trying, it's a good person to help, it's nobody bad, it's not like anyone wants anyone to be in a bad situation, it's ...
More an issue of not having options. Not having money. Not having the ability to say, you know what, i'll give it a shot, but if it doesn't work out, oh well, i tried, and i get to go, i get to leave. i don't have to stay, and suck it up, and suck it in, and hope for a brighter day, and sing while i slave... i just get bored. i only felt that during the first ------, the former -------, who got ------ ------, and thus is no longer -------- with me any more. Naturally. Fucking liar.
trust me, i wouldn't have said that "I really like having you as my -------" comment later in the "relationship." the ------ relationship. After i heard the lies, and was made to use my own honesty against me, to say that i wouldn't venture information (though i would of course not deny any inquiry), and thus i just had to wait till those lies caught up to ------ and i didn't have to be involved at all. But it was much much too long working with that person. Even if it was the best ------ (with or without that person) i'd/i've had.
But it'll all be okay, cause it's all dependant on me, anyway. It's up to me to make it a cool environment, and try as best as possible to give it another shot, maybe it'll be a nice cozy atmosphere... I'm going to do my damnedest. Cause i need this fucking ------, and only because i hate fucking money do i use that adjective. For i like my -------, i hope it--i will do my damnedest--to make sure it stays good. it will, because i will force it by my will. If i'm not as socially happy, whatever, i'll channel it into ------ harder even. I'll feel like shit, and i'll look like shit, maybe, but i'll ------ like a fucking dog, and the looking like shit will just be to those who can see that kind of thing, no one will even know how shitty i feel, no one ever knows anyway.
it'll be okay, cause i know it'll be okay, cause i'm saying it'll be okay. cause i have no choice... That's what's making me scared, because of the no choice, i have other worse choices. But no better choices. Even if i don't like my new ------, it'll still be a damn good thing, my --------, so i better keep it.
if i had money, i could say all kinds of shit. about my --------'s and my parents, for i'm financially bound to them as well. i've pretty much said it all here already, i could just be less roundabout it.
you know what? fuck this world. i don't really need it.
and then there's the issue of my social life, and i don't even know how deep i can go into that...
it's a difficult subject to broach "so, how do you feel about me maybe expounding upon our relationship and my feelings about you, and your actions toward me, and like, everything, for everyone to see, with some flimsy psuedonyms, but come on... people will know. no one really pays attention to me anyway, but still, /theoretically/ like, millions of people could be, well, its out there for ever, so you know, i can't control it, spiders and robots and giant caches of, it's really quite complicated, but i want to like, let you know all this before i start blogging our every move."
right.
well, i'll worry about the issue of whether to report when i actually have something to report.
i shaved. Did i mention? i did. had i heard the news last week, i probably wouldn't have. But i was feeling good this week, so i shaved, i got rid of it, why hide? who said i was hiding?
I shaved though, it looks alright. but i need to get a cut now, from my girl, girl/woman slash the only one who may touch my hair. the best i've found, and if i were rich i'd have this person be my personal stylist for when i go on tour, naturally...
I thought to myself, when i was in the restroom today, though, a more likely scenario, me 10 years later, not ------ in such capacity, but instead "slaving" over the next in a series of detective stories, cause people seem to like them, and they're still fun and easy, but it's ------. Not like this kind of -------, i thought.
it's going to be alright. i know it will be. can't be stupid selfish and shortsighted. a chance. i haven't even given. wait till, then maybe... don't even stress now. it makes no difference... mm.
i ma getting tired, i'll contribute more later to hide this better. man, one of these days, i going to write myself in the foot. And its going to be in my mouth at the time. (Though that's pretty clever... I often shoot myself in the foot, and i'm often getting my foot stuck in my mouth, one of these days... is going to be a very bad day.)
Sleep.
Saturday, June 4, 2005 1:03 AM
Tuesday, June 7, 2005 6:44 AM
My ------ concerns can be ignored for now. Turns out i'm not getting my office mate for another 2 months. at which time that person might actually have their own office, so it would all be a non-issue then, as i realized, with time, that my main fear is always change. And change that goes quicker than me. I can't believe i freaked out all weekend because i thought my office mate was going to be there yesterday morning.
Now I have much more time to accustom myself. And further prove myself. I hope to accomplish a few very useful things before then, so as to prove myself invaluable and worth appeasing (hence, keep my own room--we even have a room not even being used, i could soooo deck it out into the ultimate-office for this person, who wouldn't want their own room? would be best for everyone).
but we will have to see. and i will have to conform. but i'm not too worried. 2 months to acclimate isn't too little.
i can't wait to see strike three. not so much sure it's a strike. heck, i might be seeing strike one today or tomorrow night. (But strike three will get my first attention. She is, after all, most on my mind right now.) I told strike one i might be unable to help tonight, if not, tomorrow, as that is what I'm doing, helping her with a scholastic project. Scholastic projects... so young. did i mention i let 10 years pass between each pitch? (somewhere near the middle should have gone strike 2, but the fact that i know not is why it matters not).
Once the scholastic project is aside, then perhaps. i'm only now getting to know this person, after over a year, finally...
Then there's strike three, who i've gotten to know very very well. unfolding always to reveal more wonderfulness... i haven't been able to sleep much lately my mind wanders at night.
it's almost unfortunate, that i must do this scholastic project now, rather, get to know now, now that i'm all confused, all three pitches have gone past, and i'm still running around, thinking the ball is hiding behind a glove or something and i'm going to just get to pick it up and launch it out the ball-park. Hell, i'm still thinking of the last inning. and the girl before all three...
no, i know which i want. i've known them all, if i was given the choice, i'd probably pick the most recent. the alure of finally getting to know strike 2 is tempting. but a risk not worth taking. i'd gotten rejection enough from the last inning, and the first pitch didn't come around until it needed me, but i can understand that. i am some complete and totally strange guy. For all she knows, i could be one of those weirdos who blogs everything.
i can imagine, "so, pitch x, how was your weekend... nevermind, i just remembered... Don't worry about it, honey, he'll heal, you guys are just beginners, once you get used to it, you won't even need the harness."
Huh? I don't even know. But what if everyone else did first?
All I know is i'm not about to get any time to ... Okay, what about beatrice? What is this evil line up i'm preparing in my mind? where are these people even going to come from?
i dunno, but i have been losing a bit of sleep. not that it's made me look unhealthy, far from it, for i have been asked as to why i've looked a bit different lately. more relaxed but upbeat... "dunno, i have been less stressed lately, i've taken up another [look, a mouse just run by!] class..."
Did you catch the mouse? I think he's in that corner... ah... the fun i can have just by myself.
i think about that time i imagined what i heard, and what i subconsciously responded. I mean, what do you do when you are told you are loved. you are addressed by name... But then it's all done in this cloak and dagger way, is it a fear of rejection? all these things race through one's mind, a quick summation of feelings, that can't be done in time... Then it's like, hell, the fact that she did something, first, someone i wanted to, didn't really matter too much as to what. but still, i feel kinda foolish now. for what was i responding that i felt the same to? The impulsiveness and me wanting to show i don't flinch... Being willing to try...
and all the while probably realizing all i heard was probably just some background music heavily mixed in vocal track. so quiet at times... all i would have to really imagine would be my name. a mere few very common sounding syllables. Because the rest is so much a part of music. Why it just happens to be in the songs i'm listening to right now. Why do i have to be listening to such... Why do i have to be writing such?
but wait, wait, wait, i tell myself. remember what you've been told. remember it. remember it well. even if that same old song, not literally, but close, "still waters" is playing. playing and lying to you. telling you that maybe the waters aren't too deep...
Rather, that they are very deep in her, she is deep, like something sophocles (supposedly, i'm just going off of arnold) wrote about.
But still, I am patient. i'm satisfied as well. i'd rather keep what i got than lose it, i got a simple plan and i'm going to use it. why do i have to do this to myself though... I remember, always, the journey is in itself part...
Sometimes when i'm singing or peforming, i think... i wouldn't have time for this, if i had someone. But here i am, crying out for someone. When i get her, i want to release her, and then swim aside together.
and sometimes, sometimes, i think of how i really don't know anything about any of them. none of them are perfect. Without any of them, what have I? What have I?! (I say, not in desperation. No. But in disbelief, that you can't see it as clear as day as I.) Why I have my cat. I have music. So much music. And my writing. And fairly few distractions. Few people to intrude and condemn my lifestyle. for i also need other things... ssri's (bupropion / zoloft - what's with all the o's? i'm going to name my next chemical zoopropiozobroftolo!). um... facilitative material in uh... porn (and the ability/privacy to use as needed)... and i already mentioned music, music i can play fairly loud, be it through me or into me. When I need to caress something? Boom, got the cat, gets out a lot of that.
I don't want to get rusty while i'm waiting for something worthy of that caress.
oh yeah, things that I need... Well, I don't suppose I really /need/ it, but i sure do like it. i never have need for much else when it comes to a mild intoxicant. toxicity is the key root here. what's toxic, what's medicine? By "not avoiding my natural positive-reinforcement pathways," i.e. allowing myself to be a fiend, i keep it all up. i feel like i'm making a batch of cookies with my head. For some many years that recipe was: tv, dr pepper, sleep, porn, writing, cat... Yeah, that seems about right. now my recipe includes more music and tetrahydrodcarbowhatevers. And with it, the red bull. Sure, i could just imbibe my caffeine through traditional and frankly distasteful to me ways, such as coffee. I never aquired the taste. Nor most alcoholic beverages. I do still drink yerba mate regularly too, the point is just get a stimulant to counteract the turbohyperconcentratedyouknowwhatimean. hmm... i wonder if i shrunk these clothes, i can't do much domestically right...
I have a washer and dryer within eye-line almost every hour of the day, and i still can't use the damn things. i think i shrunk these pants, and now that i've written about it, i damn definitely need to switch them. you know what. Fuck it, i'm going to be early for work.
not exactly early "to" work, but for work, for me, for mornings, early, smack dab (turned off music, i can't ever seem to get in a get-up-and-go attitude with it playing) --i don't know where that was going, but i'm going out the door. damn, i wish i had done some laundry so i'd have clean there-goes-a-mouse clothes, oh well... i dunno, you tell me, if you had a washer or dryer in your living quarters, would you use it regularly? damn dryer takes forever anyway. And i need to snake that vent. fuck women, i need time to snake my vent.
Tuesday, June 7, 2005 7:50 AM
Friday, June 17, 2005 7:56 AM
uh... i should be out the door... not starting to blog... hold on, let me txt message my coworker...
hmm, now i feel guilty. even though i did what was supposed to alleviate my guilt, it's just makes me feel like this is not necessary. bad use of my time.
half-naked, vaping the first batch of leftovers, blogging. You see, you should never throw away your vaporized remains, but instead keep them all in a ziplock, or an envolope inside a ziplock, i've fashioned something like that myself. i used to just keep them in a heap on my desk, but besides being (man i feel so guilty, i called... i called... I'll stay an hour late, or something... i mean, now i should call, what if the coworker's not there, someone needs to be there, then i can have a complete clean conscience... well if i really want that, i have to ... fuck, you know, i could leave right now, and not be late at all. Fucking a. Goddamn guilt. That's why you don't call in... I'll leave in, like, 10 minutes, even though my message did say an hour, maybe i should call... you know it's never this neurotic when i'm not trynig to simultaneously write... okay it is... i'll call. which number? should i? of course i should, i should also leave...) Because the whole point was the first batch of left-overs is always best, its the stuff that's merely singed, maybe from a vape session curtailed, and now, ah yes, now it is all finished, it does go a bit faster, but it was good, i upped it at the end parantheses, and now its perhaps edges of smoke. very nice indeed. so fresh so tasty, not like left-overs toward the later batches, when you're ... okay, now its dead. And now, now i'm going to go to work, 'cause I shouldn't have blogged it. that's really it, because though i hope to hell all the people i don't want to don't read it, who is to say that is not going to happen? And trust me, it's not just tough when it comes to work. Oh people never say anything, but all the better, because they probably don't... but still, i wonder.
fuck i gotta go to work.
i wonder should i call in again and say i'm not going to be late?
Friday, June 17, 2005 8:09 AM
Friday, June 17, 2005 8:10 AM
i'll text message it. nice, no talking to people. I hate doing that when i'm in a neurotic cycle of mentality. But it's really just a speeding up of the process... maybe... anyway, time to txtmsg i'm going to be on time. Then when i come in "what the fuck was that all about" and i'll say "oh you know, me being me" and then that'll be explaination enough. Fuck, now i want to write again. okay, txtmsg: "nm now i feel guilty en route."
Friday, June 17, 2005 8:14 AM
Wednesday, June 22, 2005 7:49 AM
i just need to kill 10 minutes till i should leave... though i should probably leave now... but i'm still 10 minutes earlier... and well, it would be good because i was late yesterday, though i txt msg ahead, which was good, its not my fault... i fucking did the wrong bitrate or something ... hmm, i still need to fix that. those neil diamond songs aren't really cd ready, at least they weren't when i tried to use them, so i had to change bit depths or something... i just took the full take, converted it, and cut it up like a big sushi roll, so everything's like named nd1 nd2, except i fucked up and put nd9 where 8 should be, and so on, so when i put it on the cd, i had to ... mmm, vapes are finally dying off... i'm getting better at predicting how long for how much. yep, it's getting kinda toasty tasting, and more like warm air, i could probably get it going again and get quite a bit out, just with lungal, maybe by some delicate dimmering. so, like, i at least realized there were only 13 songs, and by figuring out the sizes of each piece of sushi (i.e. min:sec) and comparing it to ... Nope, they're dead, and i really should go to work, i'm getting better... actually, this will make me "early" or something... eh, at least i always show up. The main advantage of an antisocial lifestyle is the avoidance of any work-delaying injury and inconvenience, that is the zest of life. I really should go now... And i felt every one of those songs, btw. Except, of course, "i got the feeling"--that was just an acceptance of possible doubts, i don't know if i've actually have ever had it--the rest is pretty much true for status quo, which is, on the go, like now, yo... fuck... the vapes are out but my artistic need isn't... that's what i get for starting late. oh well, gotta be early.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005 7:59 AM
Thursday, June 23, 2005 7:41 AM
See, everyday, a little improvement. man... i'm sooo close to completion on a major project. Whatever... Good song... Early in the Morning... Of course, very little by the Gap Band (or Roger and Zapp) could be bad. i mean of the artifacts that have survived to this day. of a musical world not so far away. ...
i need to stop getting distracted. i do that. get distracted. now i've lost another 10 minutes ... oh wait, one more second, i forgot to put knock-off polysporin over where the ingrown hairs were pre-plucked in the razor burn ... if i had more time i'd shave.
today. today i hope to complete that project (a daily hope, aka, motivation). tonight, i hope whoever wins the game will do so only after double overtime and a make/miss by the expected one from the 3-point line.
Today, today is a day. of work, and constancy. but good constancy, lord--i only say lord when i really mean it, though i never really mean "lord"--lord knows more than--okay, whenever i want emphasis--when i was unemployed. Or employed and disengaged. Wasting gray matter on the illusion of time in a vaccuum of potential. Not any more. Lord knows it feels good.
So i had fortune cookies yesterday... and i'm leaving after this bowl. And superstition is just religion less thought out, and so i'm not saying i believe in fortune cookies. But, you know, when you get two (man this place makes a mean shrimp kung poa and shrimp chow mein) fortune cookies, you gotta think, okay, if they somehow relate to each other... then maybe... And normally, normally, stupid shit l keep, like old fortunes, and that's assuming all the other accrued shit with any original/non-machine-made design is not stupid for me to pack like a rat. (i dare also say i packed too much.) Vapes are better for writing because they free the hands. but nothing like that natural taste.
Anyway, i threw out the fortune cookie fortunes and now i can't remember them exactly... Something like uh.... let's see... Nope, that's not it... Uh... Right... Something about this is the year being yours of happiness or fullfilment (usually open-ended, every-applying, impossible-to-disprove sophistic hope)... and... Now is the time to finish that project (not sure if there was something like "project you've been working on so long" or "project so long" which is how i think it went, the akwardness of phrasing being worth it to the manufacturer ... but it's actually a fairly nice phrase.). Anyway, now is the time... to go to work.
Thursday, June 23, 2005 8:12 AM
Wednesday, July 6, 2005 9:12 PM
I feel like absolute complete total worthless shit.
I can cry myself to sleep one... but not two nights in a row. One night in a row is another thing.
What's up, where's the herb? I haven't yet packed, i've some stupid idea that it should be for celebrating, not for escaping... though that's what the writing is for.
but i'm soooo wallowing. i'm so wallowing, i thought it was so perfect, such poignagnt pain, that it deserves, absolutely deserves, in its spirit, to die with me as sleep envelops.
if i don't pack, i'll have to technically change the background... and i'm resistant. and endulging would go well with the wallow, tonight. oh, not so bad, not that bad, as to go to the bottle. sure. i could.
but i'm reserving that for my lowest, lowest moment. for at that moment, i will care not at all, any more, for anything, and i will not stop with one drink. and i will not stop with one night. and if i reach that lowest, i will not stop, but it will stop nonetheless.
alright, alright, i'm lighting the bowl, get off my back... yeesh.
eh... a little... hit two. not that i'm necessarily up when i'm high...
tonight, tonight, i wallow aloud, i could sing it out, i could draw it out (well, maybe i will even without a pen), but no, tonight, tonight, i'm writing it out.
sigh. is a color. not that color. uugh, my eyes burn from the tears. Too much, too much for even a normal crying session. Haven't cried this bad since the last time, oh, about a couple months ago, and then before that, twice as long (but twice as hard). that would be the girl i'd get positively perverse about.
so, why couldn't i... last night, granted, i was more fatigued. Probably from staying up Monday and writing yet another email to seal my doom.
I'd get close... The gasping stops. The breathing calms. The mind calms. Soon, soon, i'll be able to sleep... What was the freakin' delay anyway... so you were rebuffed in an email. Not the first time... Not for these reasons... Oh yeah... That's right... I forgot... That's why I feel like shit...
Because this happens to me, over and over and over and over, the same reasons, the same ways, the same loneliness. The same feeling... Despised... Wretched. Foolish. Delusional... obtuse intrusive bumbling ... stupid. why? over and over and over. The same email, the salutations change, but the words rarely do.
Romance. Then perversion. And now ... Something i haven't revealed. to you. to her, oh, plenty... plenty... thru emails far too naked.
So, the baseball's in the bag and then buried, and then biodegrades, and is a fossil fuel for the next round of sentient creatures on this earth.
phwish. phwish... I'm gonna get it... i know it.
Nope. I'm over it. I've got a new color. And .. Oh, but which one.. am i really ready? no... not over it.
it's alright though, even though the zoloft wasn't doing it, as I was telling my psych, well, her answering machine... "I've got perspective on it, it's not like an emergency... or even that big of a... you know... Anyway, regardless, I am looking forward to a session next week..." She had called me back from earlier in the week, when i left her a message and she was on vacation. I started the message by saying "Hi, I'm sorry if I sound... You'll have to excuse me, I've just been... Well, these last two nights... sigh... crying over... whatelse... a girl, woman... that i've been falling in [noneofyourdamnbusinessiwontgiveyouthesatisfactionofseeingitinprint] over the last three or four months, and i just got rebuffed in an email from....You know, nothing new... I've got perspective..." etc. I didn't answer the call she made at work cause it was a restricted number, and i was not in an "answer phone calls" mood at all--i make the ones i have to for work... And i didn't think about it that much at work... just, what the hell was i going to do at the end of our meeting period, except my usual routine? I had no problem with the change, as much as the segue... I couldn't think of a good one, i thought i'd have to prepare quite a few so that when the time came, i could use the one most appropriate to the situation at that momment. The best segues / most casual are the ones that pick up the very last thing someone says, so it almost seems spontaneous. i used it yesterday, but also i didn't have as big of a routine to noticably avoid in leaving, so i didn't havet to worry about akwardness... Today, i had to noticably try to segue, and no one was saying anything. and i just stood like an idiot... Then, still being very much idiot-like, i muttered to myself, so quiet, that i am absolutely sure no one must have heard me "oh look what time it is" and pantomimed, so slightly, that no one might get the visual joke of me simultaneously pointing and looking at my bare left wrist. (Like anyone wears wrist-watches any more anyway... I haven't in over a decade it seems... And i don't bring my cell, so i couldn't pretend a flip and realization, even if i was in the mood for such.) And then just as hopefully ignored, i tried to disappear... The last one to leave was the first to leave, twice in a row. Twice, the first night, the routine was unnoticable in missing, and i slept soon after a few tears, and they didn't stream and blur the road as they did tonight, so the opposite feeling i'd have... But whatever, i'll keep my scraps, i'll follow the rules, i've realized...
i can never reveal myself.
i can't ever go about these routes neither. i had mixed success, oh, and it was sooooooooo close. The times i'd thought i'd lost and get another chance... I don't think of it as a game. No. but i really am at a loss for a better word for it. i do have a good word for what i've been left after all these ridiculous excursions.
Nothing.
Oh what a beautiful word! Look at it. So compact, yet so expansive. So everything you need of it, and as much of it as you could possibly want.
I'll stick to words and stickier things and chemicals and non-sentient creatures. And things i can take apart and understand and achieve some success through dedication and perserverance. And know as long as i don't apply too much pressure, don't get too anxious, i can ease it... slowly...
I am very happy with what i've been left. for on another level, there's the idea of finding the right specific contributor of whatever it is that i'll need now that i've got to make decisions ...
i honestly have no idea what i was talking about just then. i do like being alone. it isn't bad. it's the liking other things, soft, feminine things, that can be. Can, and then, can't.
i need to take some ibuprofen. though its probably sinus, so i'm chasin' with a claritan d. My sinus's are all congested, enflamed. what can I say? I'm allergic to a broken heart?
can i even say that, or will the last (well, metaphor is actual quick to mind) be pulled out from under me? A magic trick. Abracadabra, open your eyes, and ...
Where am I now? lost in my own obfuscative leaky mind. it leaks upon the page, the internet spreads my virus. It brings me stupid glee, like when a child claps his hands and jumps up and down in celebration of a bodily function, mimicked or performed directly, by that child. The more disgusting, the better.
The more you are left disjointed and fragmented. The better. All the better.
There are some girls, i might add, that i've smiled at, but never gotten their name. i'm getting names. i'm definitely getting names. and, yay, that's what you wanted?
romantic, perverse, or this... romance was 2 years over, perverse 4 years under, this is 6 years over... 2 more cycles at this rate and i'll be breaking laws. its all the same. and why don't i feel unique? only in that i take it better, for i am but the edge, where i an alcoholic, tweaker, sniff-it-up, smack-it-down, you name it, i would be scared of a guy like me. Luckily, i'm me, so i can't scare me. and thus, more of me, how can that be more scary? when isn't it the unknown? but what of mystery? why is that sexy? not necessarily. but for them. maybe. maybe its just sometihng we have to tell ourselves until we find one.
that's all i want. one. not a bunch. just one. i don't want to go through the wrong ones to get to her though. Finally, finally the song i wanted to hear.
Only the Strong Survive. I will be performing the hell out of this weekend. Romance and perverse both inspired the writer, hence the musician gets swept into it, and this... i dunno... Actually, i couldn't possibly get to this song, maybe if i continued the same take, but i gotta go in order... so nope. oh well. i'll get to it eventually.
more disjointed, pointless, silly useless wastes of my needed sleep hours, tomorrow i could play in the morning, instead, i'm going to while the night... and why?
I can go to sleep now. I could have had a nice, succinct, clear-headed, and frankly now that would scare everyone, grey-bordered interlude, but why? why? why make things so succinct. so carefully packaged, with a bow. So i can sleep? Ha! I'd rather laugh at my misfortune all night long.
i still have scraps...
scraps, i tell you. The value is in them, beyond this stupid foolishness of my mind. i can kill ... okay, i'll never be able to kill it, never been able to, never wanted to... The CFA, my most-recent, the one i cried over, and it was not because i perceived there was a love available, that was not mine, but because i was hungry, and poor, and i was driving to visit her in jail, and she wanted me to spend more money ...
yeah... that's not somethng i had to kill. It was more like... i had the illusion, teh illusion that comes to me, over and over and over and over all over my post-pubescent life, and leaves me lonely, writing bullshit, whether it gets read or not, its always the same, same as this, i started shaving and then i started creating these images.
You see, much of my life was not told to me, i wasn't told my father was different, not that he was, not that i look more at the world around me, and see more of women like my mother, who end up with my father.
i think i should go talk to those others i haven't given much of a chance to, just because... i dunno... one at a time mentality? i'm making one last attempt for the one i've had my eye on since they put us in this god-for-saken prisoner-of-war camp. a project i've been working on for a while. and ....
i don't get it... sometimes its good, sometimse its not... i'm going to put a pillow under the cat bed, and see if the elevation plus teh comfort plus the lack of cold concrete directly below doesn't entice him, i think i've got the best placement, finally, ease to get to, and cool, and i think fairly free of noise. So we'll see if he doesn't look at it and turn and meow with a "what were you thinking" and walk away when he returns from this nightly constitutional i suppose he's on.
goddamn it, i still can't think of anything but her.
this "her." fucking a, such a retard, stuck in such a retarded cycle. These are the retarded by-products. this and NADH and FADH and ATP and ADP and NWA and TCB or no TLC from no PYT and ATF don't PTA the letters are not as much fun as the words that are more nonsensical...
sranersoe snarus. Morupeth. Uonth. Sarepeth, nuosoo, paleouon, uon, uon, galiasa, ppp. groaua. Graouo. Graououou. Nauro. SHABBADDYDOO.
another red bull? No... i think i'll melt to sleep.
i'm really over it, over it, over it over it. No, yes. Well, god, don't take my scraps. Why? Because i want to make curtains? Cause i like to decorate them? Wear them? feel them and remember the garments they used to be? That kept me so warm and glided me home after each ....
No, this is fine. This is fair. This is what i deserve, in a way. I do. I always... do... But still...
Damn... I really do deserve it every time, don't i? It's been fun, but you wen't just a bit too far that time. and its always after the one i kinda deserve it for. Well, if i can't write and not fuck up, maybe i just can't write to women. directly. the words i want to work on the ones i want them to work on, rarely do, so much so, that they must work to a better degree on ones i don't necessarily want to. And the "necesasrily" is very necessary. For i know it exists.
I know it does. Someone excites you the same way you excite them. i have to ... i have to avoid these i don't knows... no, the i do knows, but the i do knows, man, they were i don't knows, and i swear, goddamn, i always swear, that i see something. and sometimes, i'm right... and then what?
2 over, 4 under, 6 over... No more under. Oh, what am i kidding? its not going to be determined by that. it never has been.
at some point, though, it becomes less something that can be serious... i dunno... again, i could start getting names. i'll just forget them, but it still doesn't hurt...
Maybe it hurts a little.
yep, i'm higher, but not much in elevation. i'm still at the edge of tears... do i fight them, get a red bull, come back, and fizzle it out. or do i dare end it, and try to face that bed again, and the damned haunting of potential for sleep.
oh, this week will be the worst, i know... it'll be better next... no, i won't be using the opportunity, instead, to maybe, look around me, and see if there's anyone in this most recent... No, i don't need more than what i'm getting from it, let's just say that sometimes when you write a word on some currency, maybe some numbers, it can mean business. business, something equally profitting. a partnership beneficial to all.
But i had to be me. Cause i got that tinge. and i don't know how to react to it, for if i did, i would have a girlfriend by now, one that i'd probably be ready to go steady with for a couple of years... i'm thinking maybe i should try, like, no... too much effort and money in casual dating, even with the allure of making it non-sexual so i won't feel bad for emotionally connecting myself inextricably to them, if for some reason i get bored with them.
I ... speak completely of conjecture. Half, at that.
Fuck it, another red bull.
People are awake around me, the don't disturb me, so it's okay.
soon, hours will grow so thin, that i will cry to myself, just thinking of when i'll have to wake up. i put head on the pillow at 8, no wait, 8:15. I sopped it up pretty good with my wasted water, and you never miss your water until... well you know how that goes, don't you?
Why did i open this red bull? i shouldn't finish it.
I shouldn't write for another hour, though i feel why the hell not? I get it out, i feel so much better, i have it out there, and i... uh... dunno about that part... no one cares for this stuff. no one. only me. people like stories, but not this stuff.
oh, and i won't have to cry to myself at night, tomorrow, or the next, or for quite a few, so many, i'm sure i'll be without need nor want again.
Tonight is sure to be the toughest night, no routines to ignore for at least 6, no big ones for 7. I...
What happens? Why? What do I? When do i think? Do I really think? And not realize? What about? You're telling me you ignore this? Not intentionally?!
i have much more to do...
1111. 11:11. 11 am and 11 minutes. I think of my mother, whenever it was microwave something, if it was for three and a half minutes, it was for 3:33. If it was for 11 minutes, you can be sure it would be for 11:11.
Go ahead, do it. Whatever you're not planning. As long as it doesn't physically hurt me. or anyone else. But as far as kicking me emotionally, now would be a great time.
I'll take up a bit more wallowing tomorrow, maybe, after work. Not during work.
I learned my lesson during perversity, as that is what got me pretty much let go, my mind was too distracted. but that's because i was aching cause i had no scraps. no scraps. Today, yesterday, i knew i had scraps. I don't do another thing, i'm still pretty much secured scraps.
But you can be sure if i can get some release by following the rules, and not going through the after-meeting routine, and not email and not instant message... oh yeah, there was quite a lot not going on back when i had something i had to be careful about protecting. and then i fucked it up, and lost it, the after meeting, the email, the instant message. i was left with what i get through the mutual profitable exchange, and by following the letter--and what about spirit?
Well, is this against the spirit? I honestly don't know. i can't email to check. you know that's what i was thinking about with the whole "how do you broach the subject of being a blog object?" I blog what i think of, and i'm not getting out of this right away, clearly. so i'm going to "need" to blog it--i don't really "need" to--but i like to. and now, there are quite a few things not mentioned. the first being cds, she knows music is my thing, and she knows i'm trying to support her thing. So i still got that, i think, if i should want to record some more, it won't be anything y'all won't get, but, you know, dial-up... Still, we're cappin' bandwidth so i can stay online all the time and so my gracious webserver doesn't decide his ping is too shitty and the lag is making him look like a newb and he needs to shut off the site... But i wouldn't really want it any much different way.
and whatever i tell my psychiatrist is confidential... why the hell did i give you that bit of knowledge. now that it might very very very quickly be used to wisk, swoosh, did you feel that? Square one. Need not.
For take round one. I probably got my first "yeah... um, you're weird, and over thinking it, and you're really sweet, but i..." after i laid it out, and i didn't get a response, cause dara didn't have the computer where the messages were downloaded--but not read... Even though when messages were communicated, it was too late... Dara and i are still friends to this day, but she still lives in my hometown area, so we don't see each other much.
But otherwise, if it's female, and i wanted it, and i didn't even want anything bad from it, and i tried for it, it disappeared.
but men disappear too... who cares about them, male friends, that is... Though they seem to last a bit longer.
It's all the girls, all the women, all of them, every one of them, swimming visages in my brain, rotating and bringing forefront, then rotating back out. So many beautiful women... And i rarely got anywhere. My success was inversely proportional to their attractiveness (only it is a a binomial equation, because my age, minisculely dampens that slope, luckily, a pretty direct correlation). Anyway, the more attractive, the more i'd think about, over think, and then act like, a thousand ideas and expressions unskillfully compressed into vowel utterances "aaah, uuuuh..." And then she lets me use the word. Then it's like....... Oh, thank god, i've been waiting all day to let this out...
and i begin.
they all liked it... they all...
i don't know what that quality is, zest in a fit package? yeah... Not like super fit, like you know, but a good waist, i always like that.
So, i've got 15 minutes left. do i deserve them? I deserve this torture? these beautiful (in mind as well, I have never cried over a woman and not her mind as well, i've never cried for a body/face alone, nor a mind alone... But both, yes, i have that is true. and my ex, at one point, if she were back at it, i might actually cry over it... You know there was that one time i hadn't even gone thought of therapy, when i was with the ex, we had gotten one year under the belt, were gearing up for year two, and i dunno if i almost lost her, or what, but i did cry over the phone. After that i got therapy. Not because of that, but clearly, it was a stressful period.
Oh, was it cause i over slept for her birthday? That was like, a few weeks ago, actually... And i only recently realized it, because i recently thought of her screenname, and it of course had her birthdate in it, because what she wanted was taken and it was probably one of the many clever suggestions of alternatives offered to her. Anyway, i overslept once, i was probably up all night... writing... i had to drive up 30/45 minutes... And so what if it was saturday, and not friday? We had the whole weekend? No... that wasn't even it... what was she even mad about then?
maybe that was it.
i don't deserve a girlfriend. I only deserve it more than the shlubs these girls keep settling for.
uhoh... 3 minutes to that midnight hour. might as well put on some pickett.
and when that midnight hour comes. ... What girl am i holding. The one i told nothing to?
I don't want to settle is all. You understand, don't you? I don't want to be in that same situation i was in. I'd rather 4 years of solitude than another 2 and a half that ends up with me realizing i was pretty much lying to myself on some levels the entire time.
12 oh 1. oh... continue? Pack one last? Kill the red bull? finish on a another equially incoherent thought unfinished?
oh right... work... work is going to kick in that hidden variable.
Cause i'm going to have to, if i'm going to get that other variable, that--no i'm not shallow, i wish, it would be easy, far easier then--mind-body-face-heart full body attraction. The money variable. disgusting. But the writing variable isn't getting me anywhere really. Since i clearly keep resorting to it, and it clearly gets me back to well, you know. But it doesn't have to be disgusting, nor the methodology to acquiring it, money, that is. Hard work, in the right venue, perfectly in jive with my desire.
And then i'll have the security, and it's no worse me wanting a hot chick for her to want a wallet thick--of course! It is if i'm requiring something of that hot body, and she of my thick wallet. isn't that why we always get beleaguered with these young poets of varying, often dismal skill? says the beautiful ones i fall for, i dunno, they do and more often don't. but again, i don't have thick wallet. i think i have potential, instead. and its my beauty, just like when i see a woman, i rarely see her, say, complexion. Abrasians are a part of my life/face as well, they go away, i can see beneath (provided i really can see beneath).
I'll talk about women all night long, and into the day, and into the next page, and on to the one after, until i hope i finally exhaust the subject.
i should sleep. after all, i think i ended on a proper ... you know, being a prolific writer and a critical genius is a lot easier when you don't reread yourself. You doubt my genius? I deem this all shit. Better than most though. So that's saying nothing. True. But it's easy, and something, and besides, i'd rather no think about what else i have, in my waning hours, oh how few...
But i'm no quick lay with my muses.
Here's hoping no one has (i.e. fwhoooosh) the desire to delve, just to fwhoosh me, i think it's deep enough that you have to desire more than that to find it. And then maybe it'll be understood, by the ones that need to. one(s)? one? one. yeah, just one.
Thursday, July 7, 2005 0:22 AM
Thursday, July 7, 2005 0:23 AM
And now just to post so i can put the Recent anchor-tag down here, so you'll have to scroll up that looooooong ass... your eyes will just glaze over, that's right... go do something else.
Thursday, July 7, 2005 0:24 AM
Friday, July 8, 2005 1:16 AM
No tears today. My thoughts drifted to her at most 5 times, evenly spread out through the day and night.
I feel weird psuedonymizing cats, but black-and-white cat left his collar in my car once, and so we know his name. Properly psuedonymized, it's Harpo. So, harpo, at first, was not on my "friendlies" list.
When we first moved here, my cat, socrates, here, was a bit confrontational... rather, Harpo was with socrates... Rather, they sniffed each other for a while, and i'm not sure who hissed first, but i was standing beside Socrates the whole time (gotta back up my homies, in case we gots to throw down), and it was kinda official after a while, that Harpo was just a bit too aggressive for a neutered cat, if he was... Socrates had never had problems with sharing food with neighbor cats, you know... who were cool. But, like, these cats need to realize they're visitors, not theives, and thus need to act with some decorum.
I swear to god it was Harpo, for my cat has never urinated on a single thing in his blessed little furry life, never at the old house, it was only when we got to the new place that jake's monitor smelled of urine and there were little paw prints in the dust aronud his desk. And even though I've never seen him urinate on anything or anyone, I had heard he did once in the night on his first owner's boyfriend, when he was a kitten, cause the guy was a jerk, and i know deserved it, wouldn't allow him to stay in the apartment. Poor socrates, after I had him, I made sure he'd never have to worry about where he was to sleep that night.
but as much as he reassures me, he reminds me... reminds me of the one, for whom my existence burned, ripped out, off, and apart. when i saw her animal, dog, i think it's safe to say as much... when i saw her dog, and i said he's sweet and wonderful, and that's important, "because an animal is a testament to their owner." And you can see the love. the care.
why can't lonely people be for each other what their pets are for them?
man, today was easier... but it's been tough... it would be different if i had progress... but this is complete regression. and how? through being myself. there was nothing false in it. that's what hurts... but at the same time, maybe i'm wrong, i must be, to fall victim to the cycle, which is what really kills me. The cycle.
My quirkiness is past wacky neighbor, into creepy weird guy, and if i just had millions, i would be an eccentric millionare. Short of killing people, you're just excentric. But if your poor, you're lonely. that's what you are.
I don't want to change. i want to keep my red bull boxes and empty water bottles and collection of stuffed cats, and mounds and mounds of paper, art, and i want to draw and write and do all my normal shit, and just everything i do with a cat, i'd do with a cat and ...
oh, that lump in that throat. that water for those eyes. it isn't fair.
i'd live for those half hours, thanks to those routines, those two half hours a week... all i'd get, but all i could wait for... oh... fuck, i keep at this... yep, there one goes. now i'm fucking leaking all out of my ocular cavity. tastes salty, and boring, like i remember from yesterday.
harsh, harsh, harsh... on myself, yes, but still. fucking a, i just want to give her my unconditional care and devotion. what the hell more could she want?
if she treated me half as nice as she must have to her dog, i'd be twice her slave. but, if you knew my socrates, you'd be my slave for a quarter of what i give him. and we both give love, not wasted, no not wasted... but ... empty arms, yeah, i know what that means.
i don't even want more, just what i had, now, now i'm not saying i'm not happy with what i still got, just i wish i had progress, hope, thought of maybe probation, that one day i'd get back what i had.
Hell, i dunno why. I dunno why, maybe because i don't get out much, i don't hang out with many attractive/"available"(with-quotes-even) women. Maybe just because I feel at calm... But i don't believe it. It feels good, yes, but not /that/ good, i know, i've done this activity for quite some time now, long before i knew of this recent thing...
And calm is not how it feels, instead, there's that satisfaction, that not needing, which is very very rare. Not needing anything, wanting anything, feeling very satisfied with just presence. I could care less what was said, though it was not careless, and was everything of course i could expect from her conversation, leaving me with words and things she said, still... Like why did she tell me about this? Or that? If not ... what did... oh not these questions. anything but these questions.
and i never really get any better. i still end up the same way... it seems. with these ones that turn my hair inside out, and makes it so i can drive home, be in my bed, and asleep, before i'd realized i had even left the last moment i ...
why?
i could find a relationship easiest enough with one of the ones that don't turn my hair inside out, but it would be wasted years, the ex was kinda fun, but it was a lot of time, and i'm gonna be long-hauling it, so i gotta have one that turns my hair inside out.
And yeah, babe, and i'm talking directly to you, the one you know I think turns my hair inside out, if my stuff don't rock y'ah, don't knock my lovin', yeah, my will, is a bit too strong... maybe. that's cool. you're right then, if i don't do nothing for you, don't lie and say i do. But i still want your time... I want your time and I want to know this. Because maybe then that chemical thing will pass, and i can have a good friend.
Instead, i have to blog my desires. She might never want to ... sigh... bring me back into her light, but whatever, i feel good at least that i'm doing her a favor. I'm doing what she asks, and even if i knew that it wasn't what she really completely felt, cause who ever really knows that... Even then, if she asks, i will do.
But if i do do something, akin, a bit, to what she does... then, she'll want to spend some time... but still, i mean, it's an ego boost, i think, it's a little unfortunate, and you feel sympathy of course, cause you're no better... You don't have love either, but you're not going to step in for the person you wish could be that person for your friend.
still, you can be a friend, and you'll get more than enough out of it, besides ego, it's not necessarily a stringing along...
Some people are delusional, i'm just hopeful, optomistic--at times--and those times, i'm effective at playing some quite positive in my perspecitve scenarios. i could just as easy cassandra even better what will often, if not most often, happen.
i'm feeling... not really bothering with coherence. i need no concern of others. i have none myself for. i do wish for what i had, for i never misunderstood... hmm, she had some good diction in that rebuff, though, very careful to ameliorate with each blow. and i mean that, in the most complimentary way. Oh, and i don't blame her at all. i can't, how can i? they can't ALL be wrong. No, there's something else, i'll have to figure out myself, as to why i keep ...
eh, sleep.
Friday, July 8, 2005 2:24 AM
Saturday, July 9, 2005 11:37 PM
I really didn't think I was going to cry this time. I came home. I got a call from someone, said I wasn't feeling like hanging out, i had to just come back from my blankity blank. he understood 'cuz just last night i was tellin' him how i was crying on tuesday and wednesday. But that i hadn't cried "last night" (two nights ago, thursday) and "wasn't planning on it tonight, and probably won't tomorrow."
But i did.
When I talked to him on the phone earlier today, I hadn't yet done any crying, I had a felt a twinge at the end of our predicted meeting hour, but it passed. I had made it home, distracted mostly by a call from my coworker telling me how much she was enjoying her vacation. But I knew the thoughts were still lurking on the horizon.
I got home, i was bit snappish to housemates, but i couldn't apologize without going into full detail, and then i'd be bawling in front of people from whom I wish to keep modicums of respect.
I got to my room, and I just felt tired. i got that call from my friend, with whom i hung out with for a bit last night, and thus wasn't able to get much sleep... Still... Usually, after the predicted hour on Saturday, I come home happy and refreshed, regardless of how many hours of sleep i didn't get the nights before. i just felt tired.
So I retreated to the sanctum of my bed. I don't drink when I'm depressed, though I definetely feel that's a great way to wallow (it just leaves you in an unpredictable mindset, leaving you in potentials for worse situaitons after). I don't smoke, really, when i'm depressed either. It's because I feel so bad, soooo bad, like I deserve it, oh, I deserve it, for I don't deserve much else, so I can't excape it. Cuz I definitely don't deserve excape.
or is it escape? I've been mispelling that word for years. But only recently have I decided my spelling is good enough that I can pretty much ignore when it isn't. Maybe that's made me more "sloppy." But considering the prolific, the best word for my output, so maybe that's why it's so often used...
Elipses, those just went out of fashion with me for a few years, now I love 'em again...
this pain is quite necessary to get out on page, but this ...
Oh my... How convenient... So convenient, it's bringing a smile to my face.
With every constraint, there's a bit of extra movement. Just as... With every (censor), comes new freedoms...
Oh, true... Playing with borders got me shot down from the fence, yes, that is true. but let's... oh damn... i don't want to lose my last shards... my scraps. my shreds...
Sigh, now to import that "(censor)" (do you want to replace original words? yes/no/cancel? Yes). Now it's back to "predicited hour" and no other way to explain how I get to experience her mind (like i'm tyring to let her, oh, i'm not denying, that i'm writing to her now, i've got to do something... oh, and over time, yes, time, that useful monster when i've got a commitment with really minor requirements... )
bzztt, the laundry, i must need to switch the laundry... i need to finish that, as i really should, as part of my snappishness was "just bring all your stuff at once, not piece-meal, so i can know how long, if i want to record or whatever..." I did not use the word piece-meal, but i like it.
so i use it now.... switching. Fuck the three-period elipses, tonight, it's all about the four-period elipses....
Nope, the dryer needs another run.
anyway, i didn't want to cry... but i i mean cry.... but I couldn't help it. I took my glasses off, so i didn't have to look at her, i mean, i was but a few feet away from her, but she was without detail. And beauty, of course, is in the details. So i was able to see only as much as i needed, and not more than i could take, i avoided the eyes the entire time. But the voice, and the knowledge, and the mind that came across. Oh, I couldn't have avoided that anywhere in the room.
avoiding it would of course be contrary to driving the half-hour-plus (plus being of choice usually) to get to this predicted hour.
the words and things she said, would bring the most bittersweetest of smiles to my eyes-closed face.
and then i had to leave... without a word... barely a gesture, i couldn't even tell if it was realized, i muttered "thanks" and i mean really muttered, i know it wasn't mostly mutterly barely uttered.
so my friend asks me on the phone, why this person? Cause she's a package. (my last package went to germany and never came back--one of his girls went to germany too, so i could have used that comparison, but i didn't realize it till now, but his girls aren't same as /the/ /girl/....s, i talk of..)
"She's got all three. There's three areas. Beauty, intelligence, and kindness. She's got all three...." "....yeah, i've had a few packages myself...." "....you have? well then you need to get off the phone with me, call them up, and tell them you love them, 'cuz, you're crazy to have ever let them go. No, you couldn't have had complete packages. When it comes to all three, there's always something lacking. I mean, she's hot, yeah, but clearly not hot enough for you to go looking...." "....well, that's me, never satisfied...." "....me? I'd be so satisfied with just one, just one, i'm ready for that. But anyway, or she's smart, but not really smart enough, or she's nice, but is she really nice enough?"
So maybe it was that that made me not sleep as planned, but start to cry? A package... Yeah, probably that, because i'm about to start crying again, and that wouldn't be cool...
so are these vapes dead or what?
i'm turning them off... let's check that dryer...
i probably should time stamp when i'm going to go off folding laundry all nicely for ten minutes (after all, i did start that snarky snap with "what? you got more laundry?")
aw, yeah... sometimes, when stevie's doing country, for example, i'm just not feeling it... but Pastime Paradise... Oh, yeah, i can feel that... turn it up.
you might see me sometimes in the car, window-down, and i'll gesture with my hand, a forefinger and thumb, 3 pumps in the air, pointing starting from above toward the radio, and maybe something like "that's the shit!" I am an idiot, of course.
Pastime Paradise is the shit though... Stevie's just a genius though... man, you know, sometimes i dream... and you know, its not of being on stage, that's alright... but its being in a studio, or wherever, jammin' with a genius, oh shit, and then gettin' it on wax? lord... but hey, that's dreaming.
i'll just do my covers and maybe something new, someday.
i was also thinking, as i was folding, though, that i did hear... at the end of the apointed hour, after the twinge, of hearing something particularly nice and uplifting, had passed, and before i had left and muttered thanks... someone else asked her how she was doing... "alright, been doing better in general, except for the past week..."
i dunno... but i swear to god, i think a cavity just created itself somewhere beneath my top left ribs, and pulled my upper mantle of muscle inward. why on earth is the physical sensations related to romantic pain in the heart region?
I don't want her to ever ever ever ever hurt... now i'm starting well-up... okay... breathe... inhale exhale... green a fresh bowl... hold it.
I don't want that, she doesn't want it, nobody wants it. So bittersweet, to know I'm not alone in loneliness, i don't care if that's not the correllation... hell, i dunno if i can even say what i say already, i don't know anything at all about much of anything come to think of it in even these pathetically short to delay the longer pain terms.
oh god, why... if no one wants to have pain or cause pain? Sigh...
I miss the packages that have come and gone in my life.... for they never stay.... a package gets openned, or something, or maybe, like i peak under the wrapping? or christmas comes, naw, it's not that pat of a metaphor.... Its not a physical package anyway. It's a wholistic package. Anyway, I keep my friends, i have no problem with that, for they be not packages. They are all lacking, but only in one area. The body. Mainly, they have incongruous, and frankly unwanted, i've plainly enough of it for myself, genitalia. If they are female, then they are nice, and they are very intelligent.
So i mourne the loss, of these other very nice and intelligent people. Because they had to be "unfortunate" enough to win the genetic gamble they mostly had no hand in. They get the face, the body, the look... Oh, and lots of others get that, some that i will fall for, on occassion, but then, they prove themselves not so nice, and then usually, the veneer of intelligence (rather, the strained searching of myself in "other-type" intelligence, that i can be more forgiving in attribution) will fade too. For anyone so stupid as to come off as "not nice" to another, must not be very intelligent, for appearing not nice will make your personal goals and ambitions that much harder to achieve in a society.
i would get so much from their time, but then i wonder... i wonder why... why does the package need to be so wary? Of course... Of course... Like me, for example, I am clearly not a package. Heh. I want one, but i'm not one, i know, unfair... But i'm just so damned intelligent and nice, i'll be a package one day. I can get my own then. I can be a package, not by genetics, but in application of intelligence--not the "nice" part so much, if we remember that intelligent people know enough to always appear nice.
But once i become the package, ah yes. Then i'll have to be wary.... Ooooh, so wary. Yes, that is true. Once i have all that precious golden goodness, that piles of cash and coinage, and swim, swim, swim my pretties.... But i'm checking the panties for loose change.... what does that even mean? It means, I can be like that, when i got that. Until then... I'm just weird. very very weird. Excentric millionares remember.
blog my man, blog till you log it all, the slog, the schlep the slow slow roll of still it goes still it goes..
When did you last make love? Was it less than a year? Was it less than a month? Was it yesterday, today, or while i write this...
For i have gone years. years. years. but ears. they can get a bit of delight, from... let's see... who shall it be?
bill withers, eh? alright, for now.
No... No, you can't feel bad. That's against the entire idea. I must feel this, i must harden my heart. I may want your shell to soften, but not through pain. not through discomfort. i make it visible to the world, cuz that's what i do, its easier for people like me, who don't have to talk to many other people and have them talk to others and make things all kinds of complicated. That's why i can be so open online. I have to constrain minimally because of my job, but i've been keeping myself fairly low-key... as much as an artist who must produce can...
no, i don't want her to feel pain, why... why... why.
But anyway, yeah, you gotta be wary when you're a package. Cause like me, i'm not a package. But let's say i was. Let's say i was rich. Let's say also, that one of the last chicks who was attractive to me, hadn't had dissed me, and i hadn't had a chance to see from a farer away angle, i.e. she's not stupid enough to show anything not-nice to anyone who can pick up on that not-nicety, not-nicety that would easily work on me, and then i'd not see it, but i'm removed, you see, and then I can stipulate easily to my conscience that she merely needs to stop that not-nicety with the other i'm seeing it with, and i redeem her. But i, nor her, nor that 6-month-parasite-like-a-tapeworm-but-louder, need hold their breath. Those chicks ain't about to change. They don't need to be packages, to achieve their simplistic short-term goals. Being pretty is good enough.
I am soooooooooooo not surprised that my not-quite-an-ex is now stripping.
never again, will i fall for that, for i am not a package yet, and i... okay, maybe i shouldn't say never again. All i need to do is become a package and fall for some really hot, really smart chick, smart enough to do all her not-nice shit in full view but without purview, i'd lap it up as her dog. If i forget my lesson, i'm not about to.
"Lord, honey, don't give your money to that lyin' cheatin' man..." says withers... I still like starr's version... not better, equal. different equal.
Oh, but Lean on Me? Club Neaveau shoulda just left alone. I don't mind so much people tryin'... but fugee's no.
ugh... what's going on with my machine?
now i gotta run shit...
Sunday, July 10, 2005 1:13 AM
Sunday, July 10, 2005 4:41 AM
suuuuuuuuuuuuck, aaah, oh good lord.
the vapes are going again.
so i cried, and then i went to sleep.
and i slep til around, wel for around 8 hours...
sleep that is the last refuge, truly, for a scoundrel.
prayers before sleep, i always say, from thence forth.
but no... i don't want her to be in any kind of discomfort. the aching i only feel is that of wanting, not of ... whatever.
i'm over it.
as much as i can be... considering i'm not.
i ran everything... nothing was wrong with my machine. typical... of course, running diag and no results could just mean its smarter than your diag, or you're not up to date, i checked for newest versions as well as updates... nothing... (some hacker is reading this, before i upload it, naturally, giggling to him/herself.)
she's very much, ... worth... damn.. it hurts so much. and i know she doesn't want that. and i know i shouldn't feel that way...
ah, fuck it.
so... like, i can understand the need for wariness as a package. but some sense should also be used by the packages, maybe i'm wrong in this, but the weird ones, the crazy ones... well those i'd expect you'd find easier. its the not-nice ones, those are the ones we're all ... though you also got to be a little crazy to not be nice. that is, more than stupid-selfish-not-nice, but like evil-duplicitous-incidious-not-nice.
wasted words... stupid life. stupid mind.
what was i expecting though? i do not know.
So anyway, what i was going to say was that i'm clearly nice and friendly and never intentionally mean to all my friends and family. And all people. But family and friends especially. and the friends i actually care to spend lots of time with especially especially. So i act a little weird when i'm around someone attractive, that only happens until a) I find something not nice or smart about them or b) the package flips out once again and then what? It's funny, because the attractive physically thing, it's not much you can hide. you either are or you aren't. Some days you're not looking as others... But even then, not really. The beautiful ones stay beautiful. unless... of course... they get ... f... aaah, i don't know... man, i think of jethro tull.
"don't want to be the fat man, people would think that i was just good fun, would rather be the thin man, would much rather go on being one, too much to carry around with you, no chance of finding a woman who... will love you in the day time and all the night time too..." (don't quote me on that quote, might be a bit off.)
When I met him, that concert i went to... which beforehand i had sent 4 ships off to the four corners of the globe. with emails of wonder if the queens of distant lands might wish to accompany... but i went alone. as i did to dido/travis before it, as i did "intruders"/zapp/heatwave/roseryoce/evelynchampaignking--you know, i'd really like to know which of those performers were real original members of the intruders.
Anyway, Ian was looking a bit paunch, as best as i could tell him in the passanger of some SUV-looking thing leaving the backstage, when i got him to sign my pipe-humming harmonica (which i'd swap the innards with a lee oscar, 'cuz its suzuki and i never really did liike its sound, then again, i can't really remember when the reeds were still fresh on that, but its very conspicuous and looks too much like something illicit, which is not good as it might draw attention inadvertantly to things that are, and yet not being currently enjoyed). currently non-hypothetical notwithstandingly opposite.
i want to be there but i want to be wanted. and i need to want it. someone like her... i already know... i knew from right away, same as with the others, that i knew, that were then snap of the fingers gone.
No, the only ones that degraded, never reached that pillar in the first place. but the ones who were at that level, never seemed to ... oh but then again, there are some... some who i was attracted to, say my first profess and get rebuffed dara, her appearance drastically changed, but was always beautiful, and is still beautiful, though i consider the change unnecessary, it was not detracting.
i'm thinking to myself, well, she was a package, is a package, and is unfortunately in another county... so i'm not sure what to think of my previous advice to my friend on the phone, but hey, she can contact me any time she wants, we play tag more than we do actually talk nowadays, we just try to keep in touch.
damn, its funny, but none of them ever, you know... like, turned ian anderson... Cause i didn't really get to see him when he was performing, cause i was in the farthest back of the outdoor stage, so i could get as far as possible from as many people as possible, so i could smoke my spliffs in peace, hopefully (and i was). anyway, once i saw him, i noticed, he had, well, like shakespeare might say about the fourth stage of life, a bit of paunch, except with the words that shakespeare used, i haven't the desire to look them up.
or is it act? and is it all the world's a stage? i'm not sure... i think its seasons... no it is, it's the fourth act of life.
the fifth being death. or sometihng. i'm not about to start
or finish for that matter. i think i should sleep, before my body rhythm gets completely out of whack. but i needed to sleep earlier. I don't know if i need to expend that half a teaspoon of tears though, that seemed unnecessary. but it happened... and i can only hope my heart with harden by tuesday, and that she will not feel sick, but happy, in knowing i am trying to understand. that what i am doing is helping her, as i have tried offering so many times before. for i know she appreciates when i do help.
aw, now i have a cat in my lap. The cat. The cat is the one package that doesn't go away. packages, what is that... it's all silly... ah, now i no longer have a cat in my lap... fickle beast.
He comes back.
Anyway, my point... I'm doing as she asks, if ever it isn't what she wants, she merely needs to ask, if that may relieve her ailment (the correllation is more than you think, specifically for her, to elaborate might be just too close to that edge, but suffice it to say there is a biochemical reasoning behind emotional/physical parallels, different than anything i have, though not so different, not so different at all). She should know whatever she needs of me, say to be exactly what i was before, and nothing more. that's fine. But don't worry about the tears, they are over, and if not, if should an errant one make it thru, i doubt the deluge will occur, for i've gone through it, and i know why no more than the bank does when it overflows, but still, the bank never washes away.
hmm, i think yep, i took my zoloft, for i am feeling the effects, good, perhaps now my words will not be vain hopes as i try for that pillow. i only wish the more my tears the more i could secure that i alone would shed them, but i know that won't happen, can't happen, which in itself brings a few, but it passes, and eventually i numb... not desensitize, but rather, a sensation like, say, tiredness will win. and next time i enter the same boring cycle, maybe i'll go through it a bit faster, and eventually, well...
i know my words don't do any of it... but if they could, i sure as i say now, would spend each, to make you not feel ill.
Sunday, July 10, 2005 6:01 AM
Sunday, July 10, 2005 5:23 PM
Anyway, I dunno if ... what a way to start anything...
But, anyway, I dunno if she will read this. She knows about this weblog, for i told her about it in an email, before...
Well, before.
And i've been sitting in my bed, wondering what I can do.
For this agony is not from wanting, but wishing. Wishing i could change the past and make things how they were, wishing I hadn't done exactly what i had feared, i.e.... fucked it up.
anyway, ... Everything was okay, then. The normal musings of a mind of a young man, that will come and go, regardless of whether they are to show, I kept inside. And face to face? Vis a vis? I am exactly what I want to be, a friendly, helpful guy. I don't consider it ulterior motives if my only concious goal and desire is to help, since i find that when I try to help people whom I care about, they always appreciate it, and I regret it. So I like being able to help.
I think we would both feel better, to know we could have it like that again. For we all need friends, people who will encourage us, and on whom we can depend... And when it comes to the corporal, I've said it over and over to many before you, not often do they believe it right away, that is never a problem. Its my words... Well, screw 'em, I got plenty of other places to put them to use, where they can run free and be wild and untamed, and act crazy, and do all the things that make one cringe and give me the release i need.
I don't need to send emails, I don't need to use these words again, i've said what i needed, more would be repetitive anyway. if you had curiousity as to my fancy, you could just read my blog. i just want what i had, a chance to be that helpful guy, and nice, casual conversations, during that perfect time for them. And just that, that's enough to make my ride go from below the clouds, to back up where i used to glide all the way home. if this should interest you, you could email me.
Otherwise, I must keep up the help you ask for, but you must at least not be in pain of sickness for me to do what I ask of you. Seems ridiculous for me to say, but it'll make it a lot easier, and if my ridiculousness should make you feel physically better, good. Good... But if you still can't seem to feel of proper constitution, send me that email, and ask me maybe to do that helpful role at the end of our predicted hour, where casual conversation will be perceived once again as it was always intended, i'm sure on both sides, as kindness. And, by all means, end that email with a restipulation that outside words, the emails, the ims, are still not to be, that if they are to be, they will be on your terms, when you reissue them.
That would all be very good by me. But again, i don't really want that, if it means you feel unhealthy... All I know is it might alleviate a bit for me. If you don't think it would be good for you, don't do it. The only true alleviation will come from your happiness.
Sunday, July 10, 2005 5:59 PM
Wednesday, July 13, 2005 8:08 PM
Seems I was right. And for once not in that cassandra way.
I made it through and home without crying both today and yesterday.
but i wouldn't say i got home dry-eyed.
I don't feel bad, like i want to cry, but i don't feel great either. I feel bad when it feels like regression, like i feel it slipping away, after it peaks, and starts its descent, rarely does it go back up (then again, who wants a rollercoaster?). But rarely is there ever a plateau... Rarely am I left something, something to bide with time and mend with trust.
but i am going to one day want what i had before.
Partly because, well, since i care (clearly, as i wear my heart on my sleeve, and armor is on the outside of the skin for a reason--but that's just an aside), and since i care... i worry. part of the bittersweetness that is these catching-my-eyes. I find them like cats. Very independant. Domestics... don't interest me. I do like women like my mother, but i don't need another mother. what i need is the ones that challenge me, because they have the minds that excite me, that say "if these be the rules of the world, then fine, i just won't play, i have other things I can do." They never seem to need me... and then i end up "needing" them.
But never needing possesion, always for the person / the creature / the spirit to just be continual beautiful specimens. Undisturbed, a world of disgusting filth about them, somehow they've managed to keep their beauty and love unblemished, unfettered... Not to say they've had perfect lives... Far from it, sometimes, but that they are indominable. they seek no blood from stones, no compassion from those who can't give it... And they give it so well to those who can reciprocate.
of course, no woman, ever, should feel discomfort, or distress... Life is already hard enough for every woman without men abusing the power imbalance and not returning at least compassion, civility, and down-right tenderness... Men are pretty horrible, a woman can hurt you very bad--but only if you let her. I refrain from all the activities that make men so brutish, such as imbibing 40s, and pumpin' iron, and fighting, and hanging out with other T'd-out men, engaging in constantly competetive and aggressive behavior... And on the back window of the cab of their trucks they got jesus-tagging, an NRA and a W'04 sticker... And if they could get away with it, probably a confederate flag and a shotgun...
Then there's me... inhaling zippers, popping ssri's, exploring non-western fitness/relaxation techniques, work/social life around E'd out women (one of these days I'm going to synch up with everyone else and start having virtual periods, a la young male parents-to-be and transference, the whole bit with sympathy cramps, then one day i'm going to ask some one for a pad, use it to mussle the gun before i blow my mind)... But that's not going to happen, as I wouldn't even touch a gun. Hunter S. Thompson I DEFINITELY am not... Hemingway, neither...
Good writing... Sad ending.
guess how many cavities i have? Now... if i just wrote the number you'd read it and spoil the guessing game for yourself, so think of it this way. the number is more than one but less than two... of those things that rhyme with muffin... (but more with cousin, but you wouldn't put your cousin in the oven as many times as you would say, muffins, unless a baker, you be) in fact its right smack dab in the middle, that's how many.
anyway, i care and that's why i worry, and i think that... well, when i was the last to leave, at least then i'd know no one else weirder (and not in that good way) than me would still be there. I never know if there already is because i never see anyone but her, ever.
But if i'm the weirdest there... then maybe i should be the first to go.
i never did finish my story about the cat Harpo, he eats over here all the time... i love cats, i do real well with cats, they love me, i love felinish females, and i can do well sometimes, but its not like cats, where I've yet to meet one that couldn't wouldn't doesn't instantly love me right back, and forever, for all i want to do is pet them... So... why? I already realized it earlier in that last sentence. i could try to recreate the eureka momment, but i'd much rather just get the idea out there.
I.e. Because I can't email cats.
I love words, words do so much for me... i can use them well consciously, but unfortunetaly also subconsciously. And again, having a bodily organ on the extermis of the epidermis on an extremity is fucking ugly and werid and scary and pumps blood and is all gooey.
and i'll be consciously crafting lovely, careful words... i'll do it great... for quite a while...
Oh, but don't forget, ultimately the point of ithis is ultimately... Well, cats know what they are doing. They need to get away, and lick themselves and maybe give you dirty looks. But they'll come back and you can pet them.
Cause you can't email them.
But still... Maybe then, if i can't... i can't lose...
oh wait, but there's always the blog. Thank god i've got obscurity... I.e. even sans-armored-coullotes-however-that's-spelled, sturdy strong sheaths to protect the heart upon the sleeve. If you go sit in the middle of a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig giant expanse of nothingness, and plant a little green seed. no one to fuck with you, no one to bug you... but cats eat plants don't they?
rats.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005 9:00 PM
Friday, July 15, 2005 11:37 PM
damn it still hurts. and i keep having to actively think about something else... fuck... the irony of this is going to have to go over you, but perhaps i need to think the idea out completely... till its exhausted, and it leaves my mind.
when i try to think of that space between thoughts, i keep hearing the words, echoing, space between thoughts, between thoughts, between thoughts... I just put those two words on repeat... let my mind just think about one very simple idea... thinking.
the space between thoughts. space between thoughts space between thoughts between thoughts space space between thoughts the space between thoughts... just repeating what is that? nothing... just a thought. i think it again. the thought then the space between that... and this thought. which is nothing. but the thought. and that thought again and again...
Like i'm cleaning my tape heads. runs the loop, till it cleans out all the other thoughts
the other thoughts, what about that this thought, and the next thought, being this thought, the thought the space between...
(Knock knock knock)
space between between betweeen .... hmmmph
(knock.... ... kno...)
what?
(Oh, hey, sorry, i'm the irony of the situation. keep trying to escape me are you... what if you thought about me...)
...
mmmm
no wait
thought between thought between thought thought space between thought space between thought
other women... lots of other women, each, pass...
mmm...
but i'm back to the irony, the fact that they are passing, i know nothing... and here i know something, enough to make me want to go to exhaustion on it, hopefully that'll get the space between this thought, but its not so easy, its not so simple, as something as... my emotion is a thing, a thing, it comes and passes, it hurts, then it doesn't. she's on my mind this second... half a minute later, not at all. i think about her... what? where do i get? i don't even know what to think, and should i even, no i don't think these are the kinds of thoughts, or are they, that we should repeat... no, it's okay... for i think i know where this exercise is going to lead. I feel emotions, they come and go, the good always feel better than the bad, the wanting is anticipation, the hunger, that isn't good, when i fill myself with junk food, confections of the minds like this. using imagery that just makes me unduly hungry.
well, i guess i should eat.
i should also not be afraid to use the phone, but my psych said it was not "stupid," i feel stupid just for saying it was, but i couldn't help it. very very very few people seem to understand this. my psych though, understood immediately, even though she didn't have my chart in front of her, cause we go back very far, and she is also very wise, and i'm glad to have rescheduled for next week at the same time, and now i don't have to stress about calling and confirming the appointment.
i don't want to use the phone. the phone hurts me.
the mail hurts me.
my email hurts me.
my mind hurts me, and my eyes start to well.
maybe i might as well take my zoloft, ... she asked me how i was doing, she had to make it quick because she had a patient outside, but as i mentioned before, i had previously left a voice message saying i was heart broken... and that's why i can't use the phone... cause i'll just start... and not be able to stop...
damn these eyes...
But no... so far, since ... oh who am i kinding, i've been crying almost every night... just for the shortest of periods, i go into it, i get it over with, and i get on with it.
I will be stronger... i will get stronger each day. i am getting stronger... each day. but not like it weakens... oh no. but i'm letting it affect me. Like poison. So i can build a resistance. I will be so much stronger after. For i will not fight the poison, oh, no, i will conquer the poison.
or i will delude myself however i need for this other drug.
why do i pick such a harsh ...
i need to see their minds... how i don't know. but i need to and soon. i think that will definitely help.
for i need to fnd me some other equally attractive, equally intelligent, equally ... sigh... nice... and like... sooner than once every one or two years or so... and not fuck it up...
god it hurts.
but i will get stronger. i will. i will be ready, when... probably about fuck... 2 years from now... but i'll be ready then. i'll be ready to approach with that no-lose-cat-approach. you just stand there. you want to grab, and put them in your lap and pet them. But if you do, you know they'll just jump out, and go and do something else, without you. So you stand there... Then you crouch down, you get to their eyes, and you engage them. you wait, your patience is always rewarded. Not cat can resist someone who clearly is waiting to pet them. Oh, sure, they'll take a few minutes sometimes to sniff around, and lick themselves. But you wait... You wait, you wait and wait... And they always always come.
Either that or you get tired of waiting... But that just hasn't happened yet, as far as i know... if i want to pet a cat, it happens, or someone else disengages me, i always win that, because the cat always wins too, on its terms...
but you got to keep them engaged. and women are not as easy by any means.
i have an indoor/outdoor cat. But not, like, far, outdoors, not like, "needs" to, but likes the freedom. I'm not down with the indoor only cats. I'm not down with the indoor only chicks. but i'm not into the needs to run around either, no, i want the one who likes having the door, but why use it?
mmm... to have that. i don't need much, just a place to work on my site, so it doesn't need to be here... but just a place to just relax and when i got done blogging, well, i could just upload and then get up and turn around, and lay on the bed beside my girl who will be reading or writing in a journal or surfing on her lap top, or listening to headphones and painting, or maybe, just resting soundly, with a cat already in her lap or by her side... maybe a dog at her feet... but i couldn't imagine any other dog than her's... i really don't like other dogs, but that dog is very cat like, i think he's just a big cat... but of course, i might never... see... aga
yeah, there i go welling up... ah, but then there's always, the flipside. i want her to know i care (assuming it would make her feel good), but if it should make her feel bad, or guilty, or unfair--then i'd hate it. i think the first two days after were the hardest for me, because she said... why can't she be happy? or healthy? if she just said she was feeling fantastic, then i could at least think, okay, either she feels better without hearing how i feel about her, she's not reading my blog, and she's not having to read my emails, and she's doing great knowing that i'm abiding by what she wants, or she feel better without having me email her directly, but through reading my blog, knows that i'm trying to deal with it, conquer it, understand it, fight it, surrender to it occassionally rather, i think you'd approve, maybe, but regardless, i'm still doing what she wants, and further, now she knows how hard i'm trying to do it... And that would bolster her, and give her strength, and she just would feel better...
i want that most of all. cause that's the only way i feel good, is seeing that happy, healthy face, feeling good about herself and life, and maybe i'm wrong in being able to tell, but then she reiterates it to others what i suspect without her saying it. and maybe... maybe i'm not just noticing the non-correllations. For example, maybe she was feeling bad before this, though i didn't perceive it? Maybe when she'd say it before, i heard more "i'm doing better in general" and somehow miss the "but lately i've been"--but i hear it now... and i don't want her not to say it... but i know she's being asked it, and i know she won't lie...
i just want to know i'm doing the right thing, maybe i am, maybe i'm not, maybe i need to more, but more was not asked of me. i want to do this, and want it to be appreciated, and that appreciation shown as selfish-feeling-better. for no one but herself i want her to feel healthy and strong and not bad... Don't feel bad...
Soon, soon, someone will pull me away, and that's the only reason i could leave a cat i want so badly to just, take a forefinger and scratch around the ears, and use my thumb on the underside of their chins, and then maybe rub their ears a little if they're ready. oh the cat will come. unless someone comes and takes me away. and what does she want from me? to treat her like a cat, in a sense.. interesting. but it is true.
no wonder it doesn't hurt me so much as make me ache from want. not, you have to leave, just give me space. i have no reason to indicate i'm coming or going... i'm just going to be over here... and i'll be here. waiting... till someone pulls me away... or maybe... and oh yeah, this can happen... another cat i'm waiting for will finally come around... but i got two hands...
oh but cat, what if you knew my words, knew my thoughts, knew I thought you were going to come to me. Thought i could just wait you out? Would you be willing to stick around? If I told you i just wanted to pet you... What if that's what every passing human said? Why should you trust it when i say it? In fact, isn't it usually a bad sign when they say they want to? For don't they try to grab you and put you in their lap and hell, some might even want to make you an indoor cat, some have sicker/twisted ideas. Ah! But those ones who want to grab you, put you in their lap, they're not very patient are they? they'll make a move, you'll narrowly escape, or worse learn your lesson once you can escape... But those ones who don't want to grab you, they'll maybe make a move, but it might be just a little too fast, and then, wouldn't you know it, you got to go off and lick yoruself and maybe sniff some flowers chew on some grass roll on the ground... oh yeah, i know these pasttimes well, they will bore you, you'll look about, you'll see the one who might be able to pet you, and give you that love you want your terms... so you get a little closer, and i move slower or i don't move at all, not even in your direction, except maybe to make my fingertips scratch upon the ground, to show that i have one of them pleasure-inducing-appendages ready for your acceptance... Then you are slow close, you know i could just move and grab you in one swift motion, and you could be really really sorry for having made such a decision... But its been so long, and i wait there so patiently... you get close enough, and i leave my hand out, hovering in the air...
And you go for it every time.
now if only i could do that with women. But i don't think i've every fully successfully used the method to its fullest, either i get, again, pulled away, or i find its a non-completely-cat-like woman, for a cat-like woman needs only to be pet and loved truly till the end of her days and the rest will work out. Not with promises... just by being there, and always giving freedom, and always having a hand ready to give that love she'll give me right back.
I honestly don't know what the fuck i'm writing anymore, i think the zoloft kicked in, i'm losing it a bit, i need to sleep, so i can go ot a predicted meeting, where i will fulfill my duty, do exactly as she wants, come and go. All I hope, i really really hope, is someone will ask her how she's doing, or she'll just come forth and say. Say that she's doing good, she's happy, she's healthy, things are great--and mean it--i'll know she isn't being heartless, i know she can put it some way to let me know she's just doing what i want like i'm doing what she wants, and then i'll feel much much better.
Saturday, July 16, 2005 0:55 AM
Monday, July 18, 2005 7:23 AM
There's no avoiding it.
or maybe there is. since "it" doesn't yet exist. I just wanted to write that sentence.
she gave no sign though, on saturday, not that she's been reading my words, the one who has, will eventually win. in the competition without any vollunteers.
all i wanted was an indication of her well-being, but unless someone asked her about it, i'd no way of knowing. no one did, and if she had put it forth as i asked, kinda, well, she would have to admit to reading this, which in itself would be too much of an admission. instead the sermon was all "self-reliance." And i was left contemplating the parallelisms with feminisms whilst lookamouse.
iii i feel the need of you. cause without you... nothing seems the same...
good old toussaint mccall... who's toussaint mccall? not me. i definitely would call it mccall.
what is this life i live? this line i lead?
i'm okay, though... saturday proved very much easier.
you see, its tough, but its something to really respect and admire and almost look at with the reverance of fine art. That is, the gentle landing. the soft blow. and i need to learn how to not fall apart or else, what will be left for others?
sometimes that "that which does not kill us makes us stronger" thinking is just rationalizing the addictive poisons.
But I really felt like I was getting stronger. Not in hardening my heart, but in accepting. Seeing and respecting. Moving off without moving away.
hard are the lessons learned this way, but it was already too late in coming, for i ruined a potentially good thing a year ago. I tried emailing, and offering a branch... But whatever.
I have to strengthen. Those that do not do us wrong, but do not want to be what they want us to be... but still are what they are, which is reason enough to be around them...
i'm not only out of practice, you understand, i'm practically copmletely new to practice. or rather, what's pracitice? i only know doing, getting tossed into it, and keeping it afloat (sometimes I fall on the sinking ship, goes through the whirlpool into a wormhole, drops you out of the sky and onto another ship).
i'm such a perfectionist, my projects take longer than i want... but it will be worthi it in the end. this one.
i want to do more work on it... the sooner its done, the sooner i can... okay, now i gotta think, what if she sees what last week was a square and now an empty pocket, would she think i gave it (whatever it was) to someone else? No, rest assured, i'm just working on it some more for you. it has to be perfect. There's a limit to visible work that can be done on it (and i've tried entreating through ear, it's time for the eye, to the mind). But its /almost/ tedious in how slow it is. but no, i haven't given it to someone else. when next i square it won't be premature.
in time, things will make sense, the rest of the world must have a copy... but she will get the first. That is determined, and written here. (Oh, she's "strike two"--and it's definitely for her).
i don't mind any concurrent or effective rejection and disillusion of an abstract. i have almost nothing to go off. okay, nothing to go off. but a guess, a guess that i'm not too far off. That there is a person who deserves to be told she's beautiful, if nothing else.
sigh... and is... but whatever, so are... ah, but as i already wrote it so, none as... some good ones though, mm. mmm.
but i already took care of that... must just be this vigor i'm feeling.
ready to grab the world by its - -. what does that mean? i have no exact idea, it just struck me as something to write. i was thinking "testicles, balls, cajones - naw... i don't feel like grabbing any of those, but grabbing a bull by the ..." but i don't want to grab the world by its - -, if the world has one, i'd be much more gentle with it, i was trying to desex the metaphor, why does it have to be a bull? but then again, why does it have to be grab? carpe del toro? Come to think of it, i grab my bull by the can, as in toro de rojo.
"the sun is cold, and the new day seems old" i've given her a gift by which (this is back to a year ago, the emailing, earlier in this blog, and actually two nights ago) she can read a whole new level into this blog... hell, she could guess the timestamp... well, were i to use it now. which i don't plan on.
now that bugs me... i gotta take out - -. you can supplant it yourself, supposedly the ... here we'll make it twice removed. the words were, i'll save you the pig-latin, but you will have to flip them, region, and the other.
can't just put it in the same paragraph. the word, no quotes, too obvious is feminine and i will even avoid punctuation. But those two exact words, probably better to use them, than try to censor in vain, for the perception is worse than the actual, if you think it out, and if you're going to, you might as well get the truth.
i just have to remember, as much fun as it is to be neurotic, I gotta save it for the page, people need to get things done. i need to get things done. work is soon. i am ready, and again, maybe you never noticed, but whatever, i'm not desquaring, i'm delaying, it'll be worth it.
but i do want to hurry, since after i've entreated all the senses that are sensibly available to me, i must seek outside, monogamy to fantasy is one thing, but i do have to evolve, erupt, escape from my cacoon. or excape, either one. i like that mistake, cause it doesn't make think of any particular person. but then again, i only got one grammatical mistake that makes me think of any person.
but there are many grammatical mistakes at my disposal. today is about work, firstly. then home, and more work on the project. For after that... hmm. don't know. but its exciting. for if it works not on she, it'll on someone, oh yes. art is so exciting.
gotta turned off.
Monday, July 18, 2005 8:03 AM
Wednesday, July 20, 2005 11:43 PM
I just want to say that I just spent the last half hour starting to reply to the same email, and I kept having to close the window, delete the composition, let the words die. They weren't very special... one of the emails started:
"I just want to say... Well, I'm just going to say..."
But none of it seemed necessary. No, i am going to keep to my word. Even if my word(s) were very much a pop-culture reference. But hey, I saw the dvd-box, by chance, once, so I had to use it. it was in my line of sight when i was giving affection to the extension that at one time I could reach. But no. I am not complaining.
But what I wanted to say was, well, you know that thing we talked about that one time when there was that other person? I don't know if you were trying to employ it this time, but you didn't do it exactly correctly, and i'd elaborate, but now I'm not sure who i'm talking to, and if i think that's possible, should i even say this? now I'm so confused i'm going to have to take my zoloft and go to sleep. but you know, that other person could talk to this other other person who i sometimes wonder if i'm talking to, and then you could talk to each other and compare notes.
i've lost it, somewhere, oh, yes, now i remember, i have to sleep. i just wanted to say... but i thought better of it. or did i? we'll see, but hopefully "we'll" is really just "i'll" since that's really all will be, i'd hate to think i'm deluding myself, but i'd love to think i'm wrong.
yeah, yeah, i can write as much nonsense as i want, won't undo the past like a backspace...
better upload quick, it won't matter, remember that... and you're doing what you said. you're fulfilling the pop-culture reference. Go ahead point to a pitcher, see what i do.. "I" being the "you" from before, i'm switching perspectives, willy nilly even. That's right, its so silly. fiddle faddle folderol a plethora of prattle, diddle dawdle, doesn't rhyme, doesn't mattle.
oh, backspace, never have you looked so appealing. We should have gotten acquainted long ago, though, I feel, and now... Now its too much, too little, too late... Don't worry. Time will erase what you wish you had. time and time again. that's all it takes... time and time and time again. oh backspace, will you forsake me if i forsake thee? or will you wait around for me? backspace backspace, who backspaces for thee?
That's pretty repellant I think. I can sleep now.
Thursday, July 21, 2005 0:06 AM
Saturday, July 23, 2005 11:25 PM
I can't think of much more than the giant space in my teeth where my filling fell out. I took some pain reliever so it doesn't hurt so much as just annoy. My tongue can't help but feel that hole, that is now far more annoying than when it was a mere cavity of slow erosion from lack of proper dental hygiene. I am sure they will take care of it monday, but my weekend seems pretty much shot, as i was hoping to be productive, and i haven't been very so far.
damn it is fucking annoying.
anyway, one of the things i wanted to say was that during our hour, i actually managed to get my mind off it for a few minutes. But at that point, it hadn't yet fallen out completely, but was merely loose.
I thought to myself how it was not like a hardening, like when one grows a shell, an exoskeleton. That never lasts. But instead, i feel it is like the strain of my muscles, making them stronger though it hurts a bit in the momment. I don't desensitize. I still feel attraction, particularly when she says something intelligent, but being allowed in the presence, by virtue of mutual respect, that makes me stronger.
For one to understand, think of a mentor of your past. Someone intelligent and inspiring, chances are this person is not someone you were attracted to physically. Now take that mind and put it in something you would definitely be attracted to physically, and then just as an extra kick in the groin, mix it with perhaps one of the nicest people you've met. Now, let's say you were told it wasn't reciprocated, maybe the esteem to an extent, but apparently not the desire--would you then miss that chance to still learn from that mentor, even though your time for learning must now be curtailed for pre-determined sessions of only that? Time you must share with others, time whereby you must only listen.
And the only way you can maybe say something back, is through your own way that you must share with others, only you don't get the luxury of knowing whether the other person is listening.
Sigh. Now, of course, would you want that mentor of yours, assuming that person was also mixed with one of the nicest people you met, to be your friend? Of course. And were she not so attractive, would she be? Of course... But were she not, would I want her to be so badly... Hmmmm...
Would I, regardless, respect someone like that's request of me to not exceed certain boundaries? Sigh. Of course. Is that why I'm thinking about more than just the one gaping hole in my teeth? The question is, really, is that other hole in my head connected to one in my heart, as well?
Saturday, July 23, 2005 11:57 PM
Monday, July 25, 2005 8:30 PM Come on! Sing it with me! Grey is the color of my blo--ooo--og No, i'm kidding, i'm feeling the grey today. i haven't gone grey since i started work, but here i am. Not too worried, monday is a hard working day, but friday i get my pay.... I still feel teeth problems, i vaped some leftovers earlier, but i hadn't the heart to fully find the greener parts, and it was gross. I don't feel the need to try again. i'll be grey for a week. i can survive it. Further, it's a good week for it. Today i had more dental work. Wednesday they should finish. I got a different doc, the mistake wasn't the last's, but the same doc wasn't in today. This doc wanted to go play golf or some shit, i could tell, he gets a cell phone call, and now--even though he has no other patients--he doesn't want to finish the job. i'm numbed to hell, and on top of that, one of my fillings is too high, it still hurts to floss in some supposedly fixed places, and i got that spackle junk caked on one of these teeth and i keep tonguing it, it drives me crazy. i don't know if i'm fully grey. but i just took my zol, and have some time to kill till it kicks in. So, how about something no so earthly even if i must keep a foot on shore? How about a nice little fairy tale to explain my woes? This is a story of an ogre, and no not a katzenberg ogre, a real, really-ugly, really-mean ogre. Who wasn't really ugly or really mean, but he was an ogre, and that was reason enough to stay away from society. He tried it. At first he wasn't an ogre, but a weird, thin, imp like thing. he fell for a girl, who let him. Rather, he let her take him. And she wasn't so bad. Not so bad. Hell, if she was looking good today--then i would retry... That's pretty bad, i know, further, the reason i let it go was because she... was letting it go. And that's what makes me subhuman. where's my earplugs? my computer has gotten louder lately, is it the heat, does that make the fans go harder? or a diskdrive get jostled to a place that makes it make too much spinning noise? I dunno, but it's annoying. Ah... Earplugs. So, this imp-like thing. He got into art, and herbs, and she got into tv and grapes. And it wasn't going right at all. Cause she wasn't feeling sexy, she couldn't be sexy, or whatever it was--i wasn't trying to make her feel unattractive, more she managed it on me, and i would have given her physical satisfaction any time she wanted it. But it seemed she wanted it monthly by the end. It wasn't working. It was nearly what I wanted. Oh, it was something else, to be a boyfriend. To have a girlfriend. To have someone to call, to have someone who wanted to hear from you, who needed you, who you could depend on, who needed you to depend. And who felt warm and right on a cold night, and far too hot but still alright on a night like this. I remember the days in her room, unlike the rest of my days, in my room. I remember sitting on her bed, or at her computer, while she studied some textbook or maybe watched tv. i remember watching a lot of tv. I remember a law & order marithon we watched together, on memorial day long ago... I miss that. Fuck. So, this impish creature, started growing hair and scruff. He became almost lycanthopic. With each day since she was gone, he grew some more hair, more filth, and more slovenly... Then he decided. FUCK THIS. i need a woman. i've been caccooning myself for months... Nay, a year! And why? For what, for whom? And why should i? why should i hide, i need to find Her again, another her. The better her, and regardless, /that/ again, where i was loved. I felt stronger and ready to fight. Oh, i was going to bag me one. And i bagged a few for practice first. A few one night stands. Devil be damned, it was after performances, each time. I was performing more. i did more music and art, it was solace, it always is. But i would perform as i had at coffee shops. I performed at places where there was liquor--and surprisingly i did much better. Not surprisingly. I bagged one, that i liked, but she had to go. Another i didn't get the name. Then, a few days later, oh i'm oozing the confidence. Yes, that's the mode i need to be, WERE I STUPID. or not completely afraid this would happen again. A coffeeshop this time, and i read some poetry about my intimate excursions the few nights before, and i dunno if that had anything to do with it. I felt stronger, and alive, but i feel i must have looked like a tasty morsel. For that evil demon woman. She found this little wolf-creature, with no claws and no big teeth. He cleaned himself, shaved himself to his sheepish skin, and that's how he achieved it, cropped his hair, nice and neat. He didn't look like a wolf-creature. just the same little imp that got stolen before. And was happy to be stolen. Happy to be taken. It wasn't so scary a ride, we both were out to love and be loved... But not that devil woman. Not that parasite. Not that barnacle on the boat that i rowed, it started small, got bigger than i, and the ocean finished the job. Oh that vile woman. That evil, evil, evil woman. She hurt me, lord did she hurt me, lord does it hurt to this day? Yes, because she succeeded in destroying me, and i have no strength left. 2 years now, 3 years now... I went from wolfish to pure beast. I was all fur, i had a castle full of trinkets and junk no one would want. I wait for a beauty... But i can't leave my castle. She must come to me... So, the beast waits centuries, thousands of millenia. Then a fairy-godmother came by. But she was not mine. She was nobody's, just something passing by. She told me. Your castle is stupid. But in it you will stay. You'll go, and come back, each day. I met one, while i was still with that devil. A year later, i had a chance. Oh, the beast, still not an ogre you see... He was sooooooooooooooooooooooooo close. He thought to himself: Haste! That's the problem. Settlement. Not for me! I took the devil for the devil was there. She was easy to get. Easy to find, and easy to see through, but i didn't want to. No. So, i keep my eyes open, i use that mirror, and i watch the world from outside my castle. i saw one. Oh she was a beauty, and she was smart too, and my, even nice. The beast, he wrote her letters and poems and songs and he cried and he cried. He didn't know what to do, but he tried. He saw that she was no devil. And not so easy to optain. He had tried before...... Before the devil, back when he first met love. He saw a girl like this one, he kept it inside though. He kept it inside firstly out of honor and respect to his love. Then his love asked him (a year or so before the end--maybe half--it couldn't have been the reason)... She asked him if there wasn't something he hadn't told her. She felt so ugly, you see, i must have been sleeping around on her... She had been cheated on before, and thought it must happen again, for she was young and still young when we knew each other. I told her no. No, i am honest, and you know... How can i prove it though? How can i prove i'm not just saying what you want to hear? I'll tell you what you don't want to hear, if that's what it takes. So i told her, that there was a girl, in my class (it was summer then) and she had a boyfriend, but i thought she was cute. And I thought about her from time to time, but nothing happened, and that's as unfaithful as i ever got. Didn't help. That girl, by the way, was Beatrice. And she, and this other, when i was a beast, they were both beautiful, and intelligent (colleagues) and further, so very nice. And with her, i hid it away. i hid it away till it was after i broke up with the first, after i went through my "Romance"--i sent it to her, she had no desire to read it, wouldn't feel right, or something--I told her how we had maybe 3 or 4 quarters together, and i was desperate for her from day one, and i sent her examples, oh there was written proof, lots of it, lots of it. She responded "being someone's Beatrice isn't what I want." (thereabouts.) So she was, and that was probably my last email, i don't even know her last name. Anyway she-devil, and then belle, and i didn't hide it away, till it was too late. No i let her know, while she was still around, while she still had her boyfriend even. Then he went away, and she hadn't yet, so she contacted me. And that's why i felt vindicated, to keep trying. For the third strke. For since that belle, i have not even touched another's lips. it's been what? a year, two? a year and a half. and the beast... he got old. heh. That's the best way to describe it. For he was still scruffy, but he was no typical beast anymore. He was an ogre. That's where we are now. a big stupid ugly and (probably to others who need not know otherwise) --naw, i don't think anyone could think me mean. But i've gone from a beast, hoping for transformation, for a beauty, to save me... To an ogre, looking for mud, to encase my skin, to bear the heat. As I do my ogre job, and grunt in ways no one can understand. and my body, is falling apart, and it is amazing that i still exist, but this ogre is out for something else. Not beauty, no, for she will not want me. But gold. Ah yes, gold, the ogre doesn't know how to be a miser, but he knows it will save him. He knows he can push his ogre body till it almost falls and falls apart, and maybe, just maybe, he'll find that gold. That gold to make him a king and an ogre. For an ogre with gold can get anything anyone. no matter how ugly. No matter how mean. Surely I, who is not really that ugly, and certainly not mean, can get somewhere with it? But i'm still the toiling ogre. Not the next creature whatever it should be. A vampire? A wraith? Perhaps a blob? The toiling ogre, he toils quietly, and he looks about without anyone seeing his eye, he hopes... He saw some pretty young girls playing about a posey. Could he mosey without making a sound? He waited. He heard the leader of the dance "now this way ladies, quickly now, the game is about." He was an ogre. He knew it, he had his toil to return to. But that dance looked interesting. He knew he would look clumsy and oafish. He was far too big to do their dance. But he knew the moves, from days of being an imp and a wolf. He'd practice their dance. Sure, pretty women loved to dance, but he was more into it for the dance. He knew he had to be, for the pretty women certainly preferred it that way. And now, with his toiling, the dance was very rewarding. The relief was enough. He listened to the conductor. It wasn't but two or three dances in, that she said it. that which changed him from thinking of the dance... To thinking of the conductor. "and so we dance this way, then we dance that way... And by the way," though she put in such a way that wasn't so nonsequitor "i have a friend, a beastly friend, and it's just me and him." A beastly friend?! Why! That's me! That's me, i cried to myself, inside, and tears, that shouldn't be coming now, seem to want to, but i won't let them. I felt such kinship in that momment. For this ogre. this ogre, as a wolf, as an imp, from age 8. He had a love, to keep him strong when women hurt him, as only women can. No man has ever caused the grief in me that women have since i've been aged to receive them. That love was a little beast. A beast who didn't know that his companion was a beast as well. Who didn't know that the world was full of humans. And yet he was to be with a beast. (or she, for my first cat was a she... And she was my companion, oh, even more so, for before i escaped my house, there was NO ONE, no one but myself, and my cat, and maybe some books and writing, but i was not accustomed to humans or beasts, the gentleness or the evilness of a woman.) But after i left that house, my cat stayed behind. My first love, she had a cat, and i cared for it like my own, and we were together always (my love and i) so i was always around that cat. There was perhaps a year before my next cat, the cat i received a few months before the she-devil creature of evil incarnate from the den of grendel's mother herself. The cat, after that woman she burned me so, oh she burned me sooo, he was a salvation. He slept at my bed, at my feet, and he was there when i needed him. Just like with my first love, some to need me, someone I needed. And it was beast, like myself. Who had no need for human diversions, only compassion. Him and me, that's it. Just him and me. For her it was a dog, but i knew in the way she said it, it was not just a dog. It was something, someone, somehow who understood her, and accepted her, for the creature she must think she is. Why? i don't know. But i somehow understoond in that instant. So, the ogre, he thought to himself, why... There's a kindred. He first went to ask the leader of the dance, as soon as she was done, where else might she dance? She said it was another place, that cost money. Balderdash, the ogre needs to find and horde money... Hmm, but not much it would take, not to try. So he returned to her still talking to the other dancers. And he got the information, and he also perceived something... or he hoped to perceive something, that's neither here nor there. For as time went on. He realized she probably was looking for kindred too. But the ogre... The ogre, the ogre needs a fucking friend. I mean, sure i have them. But this kind of kindred... the ogre was successful, he didn't do much but dance, and ask politely questions about her, and her little beast. the ogre was quick with his own stories of his little beast, that's easy. And her little beast was just what he hoped and thought. A dog version of his cat. A creature bred of love, for you could see it in the way he just wants it. Knows it so blindly, expects it so simply. Like my own cat--of those who approach him right, and i've given my approval to. Unimportant. More important the love that animal gave her, the undying devotion. Sure, you say, all pets... No, i've met many pets. And i've had many an ill-perception before when it comes to women, but still, i think that devotion, that comes from never having been hurt, ever, by that person. I don't know, i'm talking out of my ass now. I'm tired, the zoloft kicked in. So anyway, the ogre shoulda been happy. Shoulda enjoyed the dance and the new friend. But no. The ogre did what he did, what he does, which he still can't completely figure out, or else he'd have it figured out by now. I think its a bit of my mother, and her "expectations"--more than you should have for family--and certainly none that i should have for new aquaintances. The first one, the first one... ran its proper course. The Romance one... I went overboard. When are we going to be able to... Why... where and how? The questions my mother suffocated me with for years on end, and prevented me from knowing man nor beast, and i was alone, with only my cat who had none of those questions (and required no truth or else everything would be taken away, or so i was told). Or maybe its my mother with my father, and the way she wants things out of him that he can't give, for he is in his bubble. The bubble i've looked at for millions of years, and only understood once i was free. maybe he gives a love i don't understand, but i think he's just a numbed automaton. Too full of self-pity and disgust to do anything but pass it down in genes and de-nurture. I don't look for bubble women. I don't think that's my problem. but maybe if they were in a bubble they wouldn't be so off-put. For maybe with slippery bubbles you need to have a tight grip. I dunno. I also think she controlled me because she couldn't control him. I don't know anything about that, really, it still makes no sense to me why a beautiful, intelligent woman like my mom should give up her life to marry and begat children to a bubble. Except that her father was probably a bubble. Fucking irish. Anyway, i think she drinks. But i don't think alcohol puts women into bubbles until they are bubble-shaped. The effects of whatever she does she probably counteracts with action. But i can't figure out why else she feels so... Oh yeah, i forgot, her father's probably just as bad--nay, worse, from sounds of it... Probably all the women i go for. Women who i want to save before they go my mom's route and find them a bubble-man-boy. OOOOOOoh, but what am I? When i'm not grey, like every other day? I'm not my father... hoho! I'm just a self-pitying and self-disgusted creature. Ah, the next evolution after my ogre... Oh, i could easily easily see myself being like him. It's actually kinda fun to be such an asshole to people. And you don't feel bad about it when you're in the a bubble. But i'm not in a bubble. I'm in a cloud. I float over people, I have no desire to be an asshole. So anyway, i thought i found a kindred. No, I did find a kindred. That certainly would not detract from my abilities at repelling. i would be happy to have a friend. That's what kills me. That's what makes me feel like such a jerk. A missed opportunity for more than friendship? whatever, everyFuckingday. But an opportunity for friendship, that i started... that i would kill? that's not something i do (intentionally). i'm very good at being a friend. usually. So the ogre, he would dance, and he never looked at the pretty girls, and he wouldn't before or after he looked at the conductor, and he still doesn't. Not really... No, pretty girls are other places they can be looked at and not unexpectedly. And they are just the same, for i never know their names or they minds. And so, why should i look at these ones, who also i wouldn't get to know their minds. But the conductor, she does the dance. And i, the ogre, still toil, and i the ogre, still come and dance. But when i'm done. I must leave. The ogre, with his ogrish language, that only knows a beast like himself. He feels good for a few, and then he must leave. He leaves thinking to himself, if he wasn't such an ogre, he could have had a friend. Oh, sure, you could say, the other times, i had designs. I wanted to make the conductor mine, you might say... I didn't. I wanted her in my company, yes, but not make her my possession. I was enjoying the making of a friend, as she thought i was, and then thought not. She must think i was well... Being an ogre... But there was no malice, and ogres are too clumsy, you would notice. Was i a fox? A trickster, a cunning manipulator like that evil she woman? No, for it is not hard to realize who she really was. And her methods were nothing like mine. Nope, i was indeed an ogre, just not a mean one. Just a stupid one. I saw kindred, the kind of woman i'd want as a friend, who was also attractive, so i wanted as more. So i did it the way i would want to, as a friend first. But i never really appreciated that... I think i did, but if i did, why did i ask for more? The ogre dances, he feels stupid, and akward, he goes home to his hovel, his cave, he sleeps it off... Were she not so intelligent, were she not so kind, i would not be able to still join her dance. And that's what i want from a friend. At least I have always had more success with friends. Maybe i'll accomplish this... But i've yet to make a friend out of a desire... Except for before my first love, before i escaped my dungeon, there was one girl, who i still am friends with, and its a shame she lives in that county where my captors still dwell. But she's someone i had desire for, and never fulfilled, and still have as a friend. But there was the friend, beatrice, who i had desire for, never fulfilled, tried to fulfill, and lost as a friend. Then there was the beauty to my beast, the one who i had desire for, never fulfilled but spoke it like i did the first, tried to fulfill, and almost did... And then lost a friend. So, here we are, i had a desire, never fulfilled, but spoke it, and i'm keeping in contact (much like i did with that pre-first-love, almost first love, maybe, had it been fulfilled--dara). Yes, if i act as a friend, and keep in touch, i don't ever lose. I've lost some contact, but i don't need much. Like Dara, what about her? do i still wait for her? No. I care about her, and want her to get someone who deserves her and will treat her well. But it doesn't have to be me, i'm way down here, after all. Oh, and she drinks... But she's got a bangin' body. i dunno, i've never had a drinker for a girlfriend who wasn't ... adding it here and there. And i'd hate to find one who's just holding it off for as long as she can (i.e. till a ring shall appear), but i'd recognize those. So anyway, this ogre, he finally decide, guess what, i'm going to write this all down, then he said to himself "stupid ogre, no one understands you, and was about to crumple it up," when he remember who he was. And decided, that as horrible as all this grey crap is, its not particularly worse than usual. Time for sleep. Tomorrow the ogre must dance (and if you thought the ogre looked silly doing the waltz, wait till you see the cha-cha--oh well, any dance is a dance, and though i'm more of a waltzer, a cha-cha by her is still one-two-heavenly). Stupid ogre, one of these days someones going to read you, and you already know they can't understand you, but you can certainly expect them to misunderstand you, so why? Cause i'm a fucking ogre. Where's my cat? Monday, July 25, 2005 10:26 PM |
Thursday, July 28, 2005 7:25 PM
En tiempo. En tiempo...
Dondé esta me mota?
Aye... es mas dificil a usar los acentes...
no hay una otra lengua keyboard? aaaah, en Buscador? Windows? Yo no se este palabra. Yo solamente quiero usar mi espanol facil.
A que lastima! No aye una keyboard lengua con DVORAK! Que es esto! Latin American pero no Dvorak... Merde. Este mismo palabra en frances, no?
yo no se... Por supeuesto hay una aplicador en el internetivo, o es solamente interneto. Si, o, con mucho ... No es tiempo pero el mismo--o equivico--no es poderoso, no es fuerte... No me preocupe, por favor.
Chinga... Este palabra sera siempre ayudarme. Tu no necesitas acentes a comprende, si?
Pero... ?es possible que yo uso otra convenciones? !claro! No problema...
Es bestante... Como se dice "no es perfecto?" Es bestante bueno para de estadio trabajo. ?trabajo civil?
Aye, no me importa... Solamente fumando y fria-mente buenisima. Un poco loco. Si, yo se, yo se. Tu sabes, tu sabes, pero no me preocupe.
!O, mi estoria! Lo siento, mi cabeza, en cielo, todamente, yo se, yo se. !Tu buscas, pero no buscame! Aye, vida siempre 'pac. Para todo el mundo.
Pero, el direcion primero. Pero, una finalmente parte de placticando, una final diversion. (Mi espanol es mas bueno cuando hay una otra persona esta hablando comigo para corecion para mi lengua no perfecta.) Pero, no quiero el ayude de los ingles-hablandos... Mi punto! Usando una otra lengua es solamente mismo--para mi--de usando un mas grande dictionario. Lleno con todos las palabras que uno escritorio--yo soy uno escritorio, yo penso--uso. Es muy grande antes del tiempo que el escritorio usar la lengua. Pero despues es pocito mas grande. Cuando yo estoy pensando de las palabras que yo estoy necesitando en el futuro corto, solamente usa este muy grande dicianario en mi cabesa. Y, despues de esto, usando la gramatico es natura segunda. El lexiconico, yo no se este palabra tampoco, es mas importante.
Yo estaba pensando, cuando esta en mi escuela, las palabras que yo ?ha estudiado? muy rapido--este forma de verbo no es muy bueno conmigo--las palabras entre en una ojo y salire en uno otro. Pero yo uso. Pero no antes de manejar mi coche para uno trabajo para uno resturante. Es posible que tu pensas que lengua la gente usa.
!A mis amigos de poker son aqui! Los otros trabajadors son mismo de mio en mucho direciones. !Los hombres quieren jugar poker tambien! Pero son peronas muy inteligente, y yo pedo mucho.
Unos hombres, uno o dos a uno tiempo que yo trabajie, le gustan fumando. Todos le gustan placticar, que es mas bueno para mi, por que me gusta el ayudo, yo quiero entender todos, es una buena lengua.
Y las mujeres hispanicas? Son las calienties do todo el mundo. Chin... Aye, mi uso las palabras malas cuando estoy pensando... Este efecto de placiticar con hombres solomentes... Pero, son sientos bonitos y amiable, yo te seguro. Por las mujeres latinas son dietas tambien en mi ojos. y en los partes de cabesa con palabras que yo no recuerdo ahorra.
Hasta.
Thursday, July 28, 2005 8:24 PM
Thursday, July 28, 2005 8:30 PM
yo uso uno translador de interneto. Yo soy una idiota.
In time. In time... In time. In time... Dondé this me speck? Where is my green?Aye...Oy. he is but dificil to use the acentes... It is difficult to use the accents... is one another language no keyboard? There is no other language keyboard? aaaah, in Finder? Aaaah, in Windows? Windows? Windows? I not east word.I don't know this word. I only want to use facil my espanol. I only want to use my easy spanish. To that he hurts! That's unfortunate. Not aye one keyboard language with DVORAK! There isn't a keyboard language with Dvorak! That he is this! What is this! Latin American but nonDvorak... Latin American but without Dvorak... Merde. Shit. This same word in frances, no? It is the same word in french? I not... I don't know. By supeuesto there is a aplicador in the internetivo, or is only internet.Of course, there is an application on the internet, or is it only internet? If, or, with much... Yes, or, with much... It is not time but the same one it is not time but the same thing -- or equivico or equivalent -- is not powerful, is not strong.. it is not powerful, it is not strong.... It does not worry to me, please. Please don't bother me. Chinga... Fuck... This sera word always to help me. This word is always there to help me. Your you do not need acentes to includes/understands, if? You don't need accents to understand, yes? But... But... ?es possible that I use another conventions? Is it possible that I use other conventions? !claro! Of course! Nonproblem... No problem... He is bestante... It is somewhat... As it is said "he is not perfect" How do you say "is not perfect?" It is bestante good for of stage work. Is good enough for goverment work? ?trabajo civil? Government work? Aye, does not matter to me... Oy, it doesn't bother me... Only smoking and fria-mind buenisima. Only smoking and cool-mind the best good. A little crazy. A little crazy. If, I, I. Yes, I know, I know. Your you know, your you know, you know, you know, but it does not worry to me. but it doesn't bother me. !O, my estoria! Oh, my story! I feel it, I'm sorry for it, my head, my head, in sky, in the sky, todamente, all the time, I. I know, I know --STUPID POKER MATES CAN'T WAIT, oh well, you get the idea!Tu you look for, but not buscame! Aye, life always ' peace. For everybody. But, direcion first. But, finally a part of placticando, a final diversion. (My espanol is but good when this is one another person speaking comigo for corecion for my nonperfect language.) But, I do not want helps of the ingles-hablandos... My point! Using one another language is only same -- for my -- of using but a great dictionario. Plenty with all the words that one writing-desk -- I am one writing-desk, I penso -- I use. He is very great before the time that the writing-desk to use the language. But despues is pocito but great. When I am thinking of the words that I am needing in the future short, she only uses this very great dicianario in my cabesa. And, despues of this, using the gramatico is natura second. The lexiconico, I not east word either, is not but important. I was thinking, when this about my school, the words that I?ha studied? very fast -- this form of verb is not very good with me -- the words between in an eye and salire in one another one. But I use. But not before handling my car for one work for one resturante. It is possible that your pensas that language people uses. !A my friends of poker are aqui! The others trabajadors are same of mio in many direciones. !Los men want to also play poker! But peronas very intelligent, and I are pedo much. Men, one or two to one time that I trabajie, it likes smoking. All it likes to placticar, that it is but good for my, so that like I help I, I I want to understand all, is a good language. And the hispanicas women? Everybody is the calienties do. Chin... Aye, my use the bad words when I am thinking... This effect of placiticar with solomentes men... But, they are sientos pretty and amiable, I safe you. By the Latin women they are diets also in my eyes. and in the parts of cabesa with words that I do not remember it saves. Even.
Not diets, of course, i meant goddesses. mmm... latin women...
Thursday, July 28, 2005 8:54 PM
Saturday, July 30, 2005 7:40 PM
look, i just want all those who care and love to know i feel the same way, email me, we'll talk it out, and ... i'm talking to one person, its only fair.
Don't feel bad. Be strong. and tell me how you feel, i'm sure it is not mean, or violent, i'm sure you just want to find what will make everyone eventually the happiest, woh deserve it, who must be you and i.
So, email me. But otherwise. I care too much to make you uncomfortable, i can only hope for reopenning of communication.
But fidelity, honesty, not passing fads in anyone of any convincing. i'd say if you're caring to look, you'd be able to know if i wasn't. that goes for anyone.
i really do just want to help all achieve harmony through altruism and empathy, sure you feel the same way, surely you agree then that, though we are scared to use it, yes, we are, and that's because we misuse, so what, no problem when there's lots of it, eventually the correct tone is heard, the melody of tranquility that has nothing to do with any chemical, really, you may or may not be taking, simply a simple loving nature.
and most importantly, it has nothing to do with designs, everything to do with respect, and hope for your health and happiness, that i know you give so much, it must reserve you. If not through me, let me encourage you at least when some other guy, if not better than me, better for you... Whatever... Again, that might be personal...
And this, THIS, isn't personal, but an attempt to show... but there's really nothing new to the narrative. if something new should occur, well, i'll ask her of course, and see how she feels about me showing the world. Should she say okay, then okay. in the mean time. whoops there goes a mouse...
But why a mouse? Cause i'm stupid enough to want a single episode, not even a whole show, okay, that would be even stupider, i'll agree... but one episode, that was--i think--the best of the series, the one where the dog is always trying to catch the mouse, mm, hmm, you remember "---, get the mouse, get the mouse, ---, ..." scurry scurry scurry thud. it was great how they worked the animal character so well into the script.
and that's it. folks. kinda... on this subject. just cus i'm at my wits end. because i think i'm involved in far more than i probably am. Or at least i think I can fix more than I really can. oh well, i don't care, i tihnk that's fairly aparent, of anything more than your happiness... i don't even think i'm your cause for worry, something else, i'm pretty sure. but still, all the more i want to help then, because if i was, then i'd want to just stay away.
but if i'm not, let me be here.
and fuck, not the words i need to say parting words, but not really parting, simply inviting words. Words have never inspired me to do anything really hurtful. But i also don't really remember trying to do anything hurtful, i always seem to do it by accident.
Oh, whatever, who am i even talking to anymore? me her and other her? one i want but can't get. one i can get but don't want? all her that i care about... all her that should eventually have they want/get/equal.
But the one i want and i can get... I'm stupid, i'm blind, i haven't found you, or you are in front of me, and i'm simply that blind. Regardless, any of one of you you could be, the one i started this for, ending this for, delaying for "who knows who" more, till i have reason not to, and maybe i'll know it'll be okay, if i can't get to that point with her, to know eiether way, than it was never worth it... or i blew it.
whatever, not the point, again, i still w... want the happiness of the one i was starting this for. email if you want my help, it'll help just to know you know i'm here. that you know i'm just here to show you how the way you work is the way i work is the way we ... is the way it should work for anyone with anyone, so i'm just there, is all. i'm just there, unless you don't want me, but you never said that.
well, at least not there. as for whatever else you want, you can keep that to yourself or not, i'll keep it in your confidence until it should be okay, i just wanted to try some way of getting... well... out to you. cause i have no other way. but i'm done now, just to be safe, i'll leave on the most improtant note regardless, that of my simple knowledge, since i could start to walk, that i was a person who cared too much for everyone to ever have an enemy. to value too much to ever really need to lie. to have too much respect for respect to interfere, and its never an err, on the side of respect, for respect, when respect is received... of course.
maybe deaf eyes and maybe eyes unexpected but not unwanted, that's a good one too... but on this open call, you should mention that in your subject line, if i get some sneaky specific spam because i'm suggesting now that those two keywords might grab my attention easily for quite some time? we'll see, if so, i'll have to change that. But right now, it seems safe to say.
Oh, but safe or not, it is entirely off the subject. The subject has been exhausted, but may be punctuated once more, since it seems ... well, it seems to make a lot of sense that "these arms of mine" belonged to the same man who required "respect." but another ode to the king i need not make. The true king, not the pale one you once claimed. anyway, entirely off the subject. i care about you, stay healthy, happy, and talking to me does that, you'll find out--you, that one specific person that is the one i am writing to right now, who of course i'm a bit worried about, but i'm going to respect and hear and see. and maybe i'll hear and see plenty different than i planned. Still, you should be happy and healthy and that's all. You only want that for everyone, and i know that, i see that, so you deserve it, you should also be okay with that fact as well. So, please, be happy and healthy, for i know you, and you are not selfish, you are not mean, you are not deceitful. i'm sure you can agree those are reasons enough to be/deserve-to-be happy and healthy.
Me? Me, i'll continue on, as i do, here and there, and i'll be ready and hoping to be able to talk and work it out through simply communication as i'm sure any two people of mutual desire for respect, space, and harmony with a deserving pair, whomever that may be, whenever it may be...
green is the color of my bl-ooo-og
when I'm h-ii-igh
when i'm hi-ii-iii-ii-igh
That's the time, that's the time
I get by.
Saturday, July 30, 2005 8:26 PM
Saturday, July 30, 2005 8:35 PM
but what if it was my actions not my words?????????????????????????????????
then should i keep using them?????????????????
i'll need more info... it looks like the words weren't the problem..... oh they never did... oh, i don't know what to do with the words.... for they'll come. whether i give them only to you. put them out there for everyone. save them on a harddrive and just look at from time to time. or whether i just go and delete it all--oh the temptation is almost certainly always there. i keep thinking the more i use, the better it'll come out eventually, you'll hear the whole song, so what of a misstep and miscue.. what of those? what of these words, where to put them, keep them inside? let them fester? or mold? or coagulate? or emulsify... or pasturize or cauterize or materialize or transmogrify or ...
or should i just use different ones?
i dunno. i think the point of that last one is not that i want to say i'm cutting off, or stopping anything, but saying i'm waiting for a cue, i'm very responsive as you see. you ask and you will receive. The point of that last one was a simple one, but an important one for anyone i ever cared for... i still care for. (Except for the devil woman, i care for her no more than any other human being, the rest, not a single one, ever really hurt me, i scared a few inadvertantly, they would often be skittish, beautiful creatures often are, so are people, who probably don't like to be called creatures, and will likely think that a sign to stay skittish--i don't blame them... No.)
The point of the last one, important, impotant enough for all those words, even if all of them failed, worth at least that much attempt:
you care and give and are such a wonderful person, you should remember that, feel good about yourself and be happy, and I am here, only to help you in that which you need and deserve for yourself. As you do for me.
Saturday, July 30, 2005 8:45 PM
Wednesday, August 17, 2005 0:46 AM
i honestly don't know what to do with myself. i can't sleep. i keep saying ... things. in my bed, when i can't sleep. names. okay, a name. and stupid things, about the stupid emotions i am having. How one minute its so mature, so different, and then again, here i am, well... i don't make pop-culture references, but acting like a fool. again. but for real. As always, for me. but before, i'd burn quick and bright, and snuffed without a fight. quick that is, once ignited, but frist the grinding the heating the internal friction. then spark spark, scare the world. retreat retreat, so forth. i'm supposed to be asleep right now. the pill i took over an hour and a half ago, i don't think it's late, just not effective. not with this mind. and the fact that i'm squeezing minutes, that will seem so precious and gone, and then i'll try, for i am mature now, to keep my ears attuned to the sweet honey sound of the love unknown, around the corner. it seems almost imperceptible, when i'm going from half-hearted to no-hearted attempts at some heart fulfillment. Such a fool am i. i don't mind, really, don't like, stop. i'm mature, so its not something that should keep me up at nights. how do i know that around the bend, she thinks, "why does he pine for her, when i am here, ready for him, and i will step around this corner, and i am damn fine." but will she be? damn fine, that's fine, but damn... i need a mind. i need a mind, and love to go into the arms. a mind is one thing, and its a certain kind of intelligence that is love. its the kind i value most. maybe. no. i don't know. love is disgu... no, it merely makes, well, that is to say, i assume, from what i hear, from people who talk of such things, so much more often than i, who i feel must experience shallower emotions on a daily basis, and thus maybe for them it is "love." more often those who don't know, are the blind to love. those who can't love. for they see only themselves. love is entirely about another person. some people, some people can't do this. They have a bubble, they live in, i live in a hovel, but that's fine, anything's better than being in a bubble. People's voices get warbled and muted, and bubble-people can never seem to see anything outside of what comes into their bubble--oh woe be that. for all disfunctional there is an aggressor and a submissive. can there be more disfunctional permutations? most definitely, but with functional? That mythical reality i don't know, it seems it must afflict the rest of the people who seem to just walk around blissful. Anyway, functional relationships are equal partnerships. am i a fool who will give all on one end, cause i saw that? Oh yes. Yes i will be. i can tell others as much as i want, but whatever. i'll still end up the same way. i don't know. i do know the "not worthy" argument is not worthy of being called an argument. Nobody can truly get away with the i don't think "i'm worthy" enough. Why? You can't control yourself? Doubtful. Proof is in the past. Then you don't think you can give equal? just asking yourself that shows you want to fight for it, in the right hands, it can't be bad. No, "i'm not worthy" does not fly. not being able to know the future... not an excuse. What are excuses? Say... I'm not attractive enough. I need women to be a certain slimness, it's a bit silly, but it's something i just ... look, i'm not into segregation, but being an addict puts you around them a lot, and there's no question what happens to a body from drinking, and the drinking is what scares me. anyway, if i could only do something, like... uh shave. or uh cut my hair... damn. or get fit, more fit. you like me skinny? For me its fucking easy. I just don't eat after work, i don't eat at work, and i'm too lazy once i'm in my computer chair to go beyond it. and i don't have food right now to tempt me within arm's reach or beyond, within walking-in-boxers-distance. But i'm not hungry, not even after writing about it. why would anyone want a stoner who isn't one? that's what i wonder. i figure i'll have to make a concession somewhere else. she'll smoke cigarettes or drink, maybe she'll do psychedelics, maybe she'll be into religion, maybe she'll be a neat-freak, she'll have her thing. crazy about a process. crazy about ... a name a momment, lost, then days, days, days, hours and minutes, till a few more minutes, why? i already know this one isn't into it. anyway, i know tihs one ... i know nothing... mm, these vapes are dying. good. soul sister, you're brown sugar... maybe i need me a soul sister. love and affection... to the bone... to the bone... a man with a mind that needs not the frills and thrills and still... mm, the pill's doing its thing. its not slow, its more i'm through. i can't do any more. i can do miles more. i have to go to work soon. i have to put my head to the pillow, and nary a second later lift it somehow. ooooh, i wish i hadn't a name on my mind, oh, what torture, but it's alright, it's just christmas eve for adults. maybe. maybe i need to not think such. but such is the thought, maybe i need not express such. but expression is needed. express outwardly, not neeeded... no... but when else am i going to express? When else have i time? but these hours when i need so desperately an eensie bit of sleep. fool. fool, in so many ways, but i'd like to know if i could somehow "get" that which i clearly desire. i don't want to actually change though... i have to clean my room, did you know that? I do, you better not know that. that's surveillance akin to my suspicions of course. i'll clean my room, that's something. i have to within a week, i will have to take more pictures of my piles. i take pictures often when i think "this is the weekend i tackle it!" and something comes up. but posterity. now, though, posterity or not, it will have to go. i have space in my heart. that is ready and waiting. i am stronger now that i am mature, and i am not spinning cotton candy from the whisps of fancy. no, well, not faster than i can eat it. wasted time as this was, i shouldn't have waited till now. and why now? Oh yeah, i couldn't help it... Now, now i'm vaped and vented, nad no regrets for i am alone in this sea, this world around me, that is dark and vast, and cold, very cold, but the boat, that i row, its very sturdy, and it bears the winds, and its tough... tough to hear the wind... crack at the bow and the mizzen in twizzen, and neptune strikes his trident into the underbelly and i fight it. by being stupid.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005 1:25 AM
Sunday, August 21, 2005 0:36 AM
you have no idea how insane it can be.
i'm only taking a quick break, as i mentioned, i have to clean my room, and its crunch time. I'm going over everything, of course, and all the stuff i have to save, because i have no other copies, no record, no ...
So, i'm going to through it all, and here's a song i wrote when i was outside a coffee shop about 2 years ago. It's as true then as it is now.
i've got lots of other stuff that needs to be documented and preserved and posterized or whatever...
But this song in particular, is... I wrote it in big, dark lettering, using a permanent marker. I remember there was an african american man, mid thirties, maybe older, nearby, at the coffee shops there is little care as to who anyone is, and i probably bummed a cig from him or him from i, so he was not a stranger at that point, but otherwise, i don't think i ever saw him at that coffee shop again, and as far as i know, no where else ever again. But he and i had some report, enough that i offered to show him what i had wrote, right after i was done.
I remember he showed much approval in the way he nodded, and i knew it must have resonated deeply on some level with him. Then I looked at it, and i began to agree.
So, here it is, circa 2003, the first stanza is the chorus:
No one loves me but my momma and my cat
Now tell me baby what you think about that
If you could love me half as much
I'd give you all my love
My cat don't mind
If I'm out all night
When I come home its allright
He'll sleep right by my side
All thru the night
Chorus
My momma dosen't
Always like
What I do
But she'll always
Love me
Thru and thru
Chorus
They both love me
Unconditionally
That is how you'll see
I'll love thee
How can anyone
Love me like
That
Like my momma
Does
Like my cat
Chorus
I think it is good... but now, now i gotta pick up some drunken people.
no i don't want to hear a message of you talking "can you hear me, its loud here and uh..." just txt msg me the g'd'mn ... i need the zip. what do you think zip, oh he might think i mean like austin powers... as i'm "zip"ping him from talking, so i'll txt msg "zip code?" Fuck i'm tired. I don't want to listen to your message jake... where's my zip code jake? you don't want to get picked up jake?
fine i'll listen to your damn voice message.
first message complete gibberish... second message a big old second of loud music and dial tone. Siiiigh, okay, i'll try txt msging "city??" okay, here it is, he got the zip without me having to txt msg... i wish he would give me more than an intersection...
he's lucky it found it.
Sunday, August 21, 2005 1:03 AM
Monday, August 22, 2005 7:31 PM
so sunday was no funday, but i got down to the nitty gritty and made serious headway, but still, still...
i find ziplock bags can truly be a man's best friend. much like a medium soda, there is no need for almost all the bag sizes besides 2 gallon and snack. sandwich size will hold a CD in a pinch.
i've got everything, kinda, slowly, slowly, you have no idea how hard this is for me, every speck of dirt is microscoped and disected. i can get distracted, were i not on the deadline that drove my mind. and even still i don't know the situation, but it definitely looks a lot different.
i was going to puss out and go to sleep, but no, now i need to finish the job...
has the deadline passed? is it today or tomorrow? will my getting some freakin'--oh actually, i did get a bit more, since i fucked up and got woken by the back-up alarm.
anyway, everything can be put into two categories, big bag or small bag, and if you can't figure out the big bag at least you can start on a small bag...
Example: One snack bag has 5 empty cigarette paper packages.
Yes, i am keeping that.
the only thing that makes the pack-rat filthy is when he doesn't take time to seperate the jewels from the shit. he knows the jewels are in there, he must horde.
but if he has teh time to labor over every little bit, and let him get every tiny jewel--oh, not big jewels... but sentimental ones.
oh, i couldn't possibly toss that lanyard. how else would i be able to remember that friend?
it has other importance beside that, of course... i think its kinda cool its very nerdy way... Like my cheap-ass atlas-hat from winning some stupid thing in highschool with my other nerdy friends for extra credit we no doubt didn't need.
I can't get rid of that hat. Oh no.
oh sorry, i went to use my restroom, it is ridiculously immaculate.
when it comes to cleaning, when i get to it, i get to it meaning to do to cleaning.
ah, and the vapes are still going...
perhaps not as strong. but still going. oh, they'll be dead after this. they did not go in vain, they squeezed every bit of love out first.
what about love...
i dunno... you know, i bet, some people, some people, you know, just some people, they probably, i assume, like, i'm not sure, just go around saying a name, you know, of someone. someone on their mind. oh, there are others to keep my eyes open for, but my heart is starting to fill, and its not used to having to share, not used to beinf full either, its... actually, it wasn't too distracting. i didn't even think about it today. i don't at work. it's more the middle of the night thing.
sometimes, for some people, i assume, from stories i can only guess are partly factual...
my heart is not closed though. it is not. it is tepid and warming slowly, like it should, not burst like the quiche it is cooked too quickly.
my heart is weaker than a baboon's in an elephant. is more inexperienced than it wants to be. is a pathetic distraction, at some point, the waves though, they are cresting soon, then i can subside.
what can i say? a little bit of soul is good, a lot of soul is too much, too much for most, but for me is all i need, to soothe, to move, to incite, feel light, cry out, and shout, and call my baby, and say never maybe, always and always, in short ways and tall ways, in door ways and hall ways, and more way than i recall ways, soul, is all i need. A little is too little for me.
oh, i don't know if it'll give me soul, i'll agree with the Blazers we start off with less. Just from around us, but it gives us a new world to experience outside the milquetoast.
i'm not out to become more of anything, or try to be, i'm just out listen to those who have, who know who they are about. Songs about what really matter: love, respect, truth, survival. but mostly love.
damn, i'm too tired, i don't know about the deadline, i do no i nearly killed myself, and certainly succeeded more than anyone of the people who knew of the event (and the inherent short-notice) expected. my vapes are dead, further.
oh that name, in my head, every once in a while, i say it aloud. Then, of course, there are some girls i don't even know their name, and yet i tihnk of them.
enough that i think maybe i need to do a little sam and dave to say it. but why? i don't know... i don't... girl you're always out there with your man, it's about time he took your hand... (Now is it 'course or 'cause--i'm still not sure.)
oh, no one new, one of the many across the ocean that is my life. months, i sometimes go years before i know a person's name. i can work beside, study beside, be around and see a few times every week, and still not know a person's name.
ooooh, what am i thinking... i'm thinking i've not had enough sleep, that is why my mind is on women, anticipation on completion is enough to thuroughly distract.
if i had sleep i'd be amped to clean, so tomorrow, i will attack it vigorously before work, the beast is recoilding in pain, and if i don't keep jabbing at it stuck in the corner, it'll regenerate it'll get bigger and it'll win.
a clean room is an appealing prospect, albeit arduous if you binge clean.
get off, then get right back on, when i clean, i clean and get mean, on the grime like its a crime, oh, it's on like a throw-down between brawny and mr. clean--... no that's not... um, my kind of appealing... mine is more like naked women in dishwashing gloves wrestling in non-toxic faux-dishwashing-liquid. oh yeah.
okay, what are we talking about? Cleaning, finishing and then gulp... i have to actually start thinking beyond my written fantasies, but that's absurd, i'm a writer, i already know that real-life is never quite...
Well, i don't know, i've only got the history, the future of my sci-fi, that's to come, if i cross through that dimensional portal past the fourth wall and into the audience to make love to some chick in the theatre seats like i'm that fucking guy from aha... i need sleep.
zoloft. hit me up with that zzzz.
i'm glad i talked to my psych and she reiterated that it was a good idea not to push any envelopes that were closed circuits though mailboxes looked unguarded--it was not a push i needed, i'm not a pusher anyway. in other words, i wrote a letter that started (after the name that may come to someone in the midst of what might be fits of nightly turmoil, or just when whimsy gives way to the stern and strong guard against my thoughts of naught, and... fucking w--- p---.
bad timing sheeeet. i'd be more specific but it would be too specific. it started: "I feel I may be writing a letter tnever to be sent" and it is dated august 17th. and... yep, into a pile it goes, to be sorted through on a saturday before the sunday i actually clean, and i will see it, and i will say "shoot, dagnummit, i got to get to writin' that silly ol' ..." yawn..
and being an old man, i'll fall asleep.
like today i am an old man. some of us are born old. some of us are born young.
sigh... that name.
the song is over, but the same refrain.
okay, too much soul, i gotta get in the covers so the zol can droll, and i'll wake with the bupropion, and hopefully a shake and a bake. in that order. and some cleaning!
when i'm working that name doesn't affect me, but when i'm cleaning, and i'm emersed, suddenly the gates fly open out fly the winged sprites that are my stupid, stupid affections.
yes, sleep will be good, and then more cleaning, and then i have thousands of other projects that i never get done, but i get to pick them all back up simultaneous again after i'm done. oh the beast cannot live past this excursion, or soon he will be back at my border in search of more libenstraum, oh you pile of shit and diamonds, technoclutter and ashes and stupid momentos and i folded sooo many used nicotine patches... it was during that activity oh, that i thought of her.
and it snuck up on me, and i survived today, but i'll see her again soon.
luckily, i'm a writer, so the worst case scenario never needs to leave the page where it had already no doubt gone. it's all good until i let go of those words. and my psych says i need to look outside, and i'm going to, and i am ... hence girls-with-no-name and plans to get at least that much.
but regardless, no, she said, and i agreed, i agreed whole heartedly, if i thought i could say it, i wouldn't have to write it now would i?
and a blog is a lovely caveat emptor.
i didn't mention to my psych that part...
but i can't censor the blog only cryptnofy it. and i'm not too picky about decryption success.
SHit, sleep. where's the caveat emptor for the blogger?
why can't i get a guarantee out of my own product that i manufacter? Am i hard sell or just hardly awake? I'm going for the latter, i could use it to get from the floor to the bed, why must it take so little effort to type... i could do it all night... even without sight. oh, i need to sleep.
Monday, August 22, 2005 8:47 PM
Tuesday, August 23, 2005 11:19 PM
i'm not about to go writing all night long, oh i still need more sleep, i got one more day to clean my room, the deadline--were i the suspecting type, might use quotes--magically got moved.
i'm going to sleep very shortly. i just want to say one thing. i have to wait for you to give me a sign, you need to email me. To let me know that, though other prospects have not changed, and position neither... Hmm, a better way of saying it, though i'm still to accept my role, and place, and time. you can at least let me help in that way i used to. if not emails, how about an im? or how about, i'll just give you as many as you give me, you can set the tone and the pace. You just need to give me that first one. That email that says my time in purgatory has not been wasted. a purgatory better than any place on earth. ... perhaps i can't be "good" all the time with words ("loving," no doubt, but "good" by social standards, much doubt). So that's why i'd be happy with just getting what i had back, not even all of it, i really liked most being able to help, for i know at one point you appreciated it, or at least said as much... I stand akward thinking for half a second, how i wish i could just offer to help, but that's not how it works, i only did that the one time so i could give you your gift. if i came on time from now on? Could i get that much back even? the sacrifice of smoke time is small considering the hope it would give me, but i have nothing to suggest that yet... maybe...
maybe i need to stop blogging. you could also email that. i'd need to get it out, one way or the other, but i need not give it to you (right away at least) or the entire, freakin' world... communication is the panacea to all relationships of all kinds, though miscommunication can be a dangerous thing indeed. still, without the opportunity to administer, how can i even attempt a medicinal dosage?
and if any of this is wrong, i'm sorry... i'd like to say its not like me... But i'm a hopeless romantic, the more hopeless it looks for me, the more i fall into the romance, 'cause i'm an idiot like that. but still, i don't want to push anything, i don't want to screw up anything, i don't want to fuck it up any more than i have, and i don't even know what progression i'm trying to keep from desturbing. To paraphrase my favorite musical, i'm not sure about the perfect path to the perfect you. But to paraphrase no one, but to be verbatim from the chorus of my heart, i just want you to be happy, and loved, and that's it. That's all whatever it will be that makes you happy and is good for you, and that's all i want or care about, and i don't know if any of this is going to get you to that spot/place/time but its genuine feelings of care, appreciation, and esteem--when shown right there are few things more beautiful--only one right now comes to mind, but there seems to be little room for much else to compete in there. just happy and loved, that's all.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005 11:42 PM
Sunday, August 28, 2005 9:13 PM
I'd quote, but i can't, for i'm going to try to do as she said. but maybe i received the message wrong. And I am no one to depend on any minimum-wage page from verona who could give a damn about my heart. So, i will repeat it as i've heard it, maybe recently, maybe inbetween words, who knows any more. i'll repeat it plainly, so easily it can be repudiated if it need be, though i suspect not. You want me to move on.
Fine, my heart has no callers, my heart has no name, ask me tomorrow, the answer's the same. i'm openning my eyes, openning my ears, and my heart as well. each though, very slow, the last when its safe to tell.
i have no one to love, who wants my love, who i'm ready to love, either i have yet to meet her, yet to talk to her, or yet to hear "I dig you too" from the ones I've made it plain to. For i am not one for games.
But I will make no more mention of it on this blog, though it was my only way. if that is also what you want, though you didn't say that, so i don't know if i'll do that. What you "said" as much as you could without actual words for us alone, or even if you didn't, certainly for a person who imagines double-talk messages, it would not be a bad message to imagine. What you seem to confer is move on, that desire needs to change into acceptance of reality--be it through finding another or what-have-you, though i suspect she'd want me to find another. And i want to find another, at least as good as she...
And in the mean time, my heart has no name, ask me tomorrow, the answer's the same. It's taking callers, and all offers, by those i've asked before, and those who don't know if i'd want to ask, the ones i see and show i am clearly attracted to on a physical level and yet have to know on an intellectual one. slip a note under my door, (email will work perfectly), and maybe then my heart will fling open without fear. And in the meantime, all the ones who've said already, i've heard, and thus, my heart is ready to open--once i know its finally clear.
Sunday, August 28, 2005 9:38 PM
Sunday, September 4, 2005 0:54 AM
i'm still in love. Stronger, but still in love.
Sunday, September 4, 2005 0:54 AM
Sunday, September 4, 2005 0:55 AM
Strong enough to keep with the course of the tide. My psych tells me to realize it'll never happen. she's rarely ever wrong. i don't know when she has been, and she was certainly spot-on on the coocoo that had invaded my nest, no, she couldn't have just flown on. anyway, i was trying to remember if she was wrong about my chances with the one who went to germany, though, i don't think we talked about it much as far as speculation of the future. i was just interested in a girl with a boyfriend, i don't think at that period of time i was having regular sessions (of a therapeu--of a legally therapeutic kind). But my friends who saw her, and the way she looked at me, (and i at her, but there was no doubts how i felt), they weren't so shocked, when i ... fought and won... if only for a brief shining momment of victory till life reminded me who was boss and smacked me right back down as i lost her. It's not like my interest in her has really died, merely went dormant, it can be rekindled as my life seems limitless combustables on the horizon. But i am a monogamous man, even in my fantasies, so i will have to wait till a new, and hopefully real, love with a real person, whom i will know to excite me in all the same ways and have all the quality in all the facets and who, yes, yes, finally, someday, reciprocate. The intense passion i hold inside, and let flicker for a select few, just waiting for that reciprocating touch. With every day, I go stronger, but my love does not die, it does not weaken, i do not find faults, i do not find problems, i do not find misperceptions. For i never even perceived once complete reciprocation. Not on all the levels... Not all at once... Okay, look, can you have misperceptions if you go through life purposely fuzzy? I open my mind to each possibilities, i choose which ones to entertain... My zoloft has kicked in. I only wanted to say that i'm growing stronger, and while not farther, i'm still getting closer to -------, whenever i may find her.
Sunday, September 4, 2005 1:13 AM.
Monday, September 19, 2005 8:58 PM
Soooo, days come and days go, and what have i ever to show? I need to show something to my psych come thursday. she's got me on a "project" (my word not hers, quotation marks as well, of course, are mine). i'm griping about loneliness, thinking aloud that i'm 26, should have a relationship, or should be dating, or should be doing something more than i had these last three years. when i'd say, i'm 23, i'm 24, i'm 25 i ought to be dating i ought to find me a girl, i ought to be exploring love. and love stuff.
except for maybe 3 years total. no, total, of all women, 3 and a half. otherwise. Solitude. complete solitude. With a cat, of course. my body, numbed and used to the lack of physical sensation, interaction between people seems more and more pointless, more a waste of time, time i need to waste alone, preparing. always preparing.
i got this project, i got that project, not the ones my psych puts me on, the ones i have for myself, with no real deadlines, only flatline death and that's it. until then, my brain still functions, not dulled by alcohol, instead made limber from the mind stretching, which gets me nowhere in the way i want at least.
i tell myself there's urgency. But i know there isn't. I'm still relatively young. I'm in those mid twenties on to early thirties, they're all kinda shifty. You either make something of yourself or you don't by the end you're whatever you are.
Some beautiful women out there though. i wonder if i could ever enjoy them as i wish i could in my fantasies.
Oh, not even in that way.
How do my fantasies go?
they start small.
"Hey, um... You know, its been nearly a year now and I still don't know your name..."
"really?, that's nice..."
"mine's..."
"Now I'm going to say something perfectly witty on the spot regarding something you by perfect chance happen to have with you."
"Now maybe I'll somehow get about your clever nickname, for i'm so shy, i've got one for almost everyone--as i have no actual names. you will somehow find it endearing. My nicknames are never clever though, in that kind of way, just a matter of convenient mneumonics, and i could never explain it well, but it'll be so clever, and thus you are now laughing."
"what's that you say?"
"you think about me too? You say you've figured out my online alter-ego. you say... you say, you've actually read all that? And... You like it? You say, just in the words i must put on the world's doorstep to get to your ear, you know we'll have a perfect repoire?"
"Is that right? Well, I'll have to read some of your stuff sometime... Oh is that right, you got a url, look at you, well, give me an email then... What's that? you don't want to just leave it at that? Because whenever it's left like that by any other woman, its never picked up again? I never got that email? And this fantasy isn't over, you say, but don't say?"
"You say take a quick break? So we can talk some more? In a secluded spot?"
"You say you can't wait any long either?"
those are my fantasies. not for the faint of heart
i'm sorry, i got distracted, i had to do something. no i didn't. but i did something. i'm trying to put together my old freshman year waterpipe, it's coming along, its not easy, but its not like something i am patient about.
transparent duct tape, packing tape, epoxy, ziplock bags even. my last attempt. a ziplock bag around the base filled with epoxy, the overflow stuck to the bag and it tore, i believe, so i double bagged. it's nice having a bong again.
though the last few days have been teasing, where i keep thinking i finally got it leakproof. i think it may finally be.
oh, right, beautiful women... right... i want to think about them some more...... .... mm... naw.
they hurt me half the time, for the half they can't stay carnal in my dreams. even in my dreams they mist into phantoms.
Fucking ... loneliness. projects... not being about to utter more than a syllable in front of a beautiful woman. but can't think of anything else but all the things i want to tell her.
i tried ... hmm... the ziplock worked pretty well. yet another use for the ziplock snack. quite a piece of art it is. looks like a frosted something. i like it.
i can't see many other uh... digging it the same as i. 6 things of epoxy, was it worth it? definitely. layer after layer of attempted defenses. they should age nicely.
Anyway.
i tried i tried to get my psych to drive home the "never gonna happen" thing. but of course, she's still suggesting i look around myself, at others than the one i think of as thus "only one day till i get to see her again, only two and a half days until i get to see her again, only two and a half until i get to see her again, only one day." Only i don't see how i can end up with 7 days in a week that way. it's probably more like one more day, then two and three qua... ah, that's how, its one day, two and a half, three and a half. that's right."
so is it serious this time? I've talked about putting myself out there before, and it's not been serious. a stupid project here or there, that never fruitions fast enough, for i can not just devote myself to art...
though i can put it second to work, and the social just completely out of the picture
hmm, i should get some sleep tonight. i'm very proud of this bong. it took quite a bit of effort to get it done so quickly and shoddily and thus longly and repeatedly.
things i want to do to a woman: kiss her on the neck. run my fingers through her hair. lick her earlobe. i'm really fucking needing to get out. (40 years later, greasy and old, "come on lassie, let me lick yer earlobe! I'll give you a shiny nickle." Money has been replace, so has women, i'm senile, and propositioning a dog.)
i just forget how all that stuff is done is all. i'm so removed from it, it feels like i'm writing about the fucking civil war. Fort sumptner, my virginity, my regrown hymen, my imaculate preconception. The lord giveth, and he taketh, and he tooketh all my use for sexual organs (male, that i have).the lord existeth aftereth i really grow a hymen.
"what's that? you're not only in love with my words, you are also with my voice? you want me to serenade you? two bars and you'll orgasm you say?"
my fantasies are very stupid. that's all i want though, is for that ball to start rolling with that beautiful one, who says i'm not so stupid. But I am, i know i am. i don't even bother to hide it in my writing. loneliness, loneliness, such a waste of time, so said brother solomon burke.
so very true. very true indeed. and that's perhaps why i'm trying to cure it. i hate to waste time. despite what this blog might have you believe. i'm going to dump my water, let it actually dry, so proud of myself. the water is only (hopefully) facing non-adhesive sides of duct-tape or glass, the pourous bits that get solved by shoddiness and epoxy, they'll not polute so badly. No epoxy flavor, that's key. anyway, i'm fucking brilliant. but an idiot, an idiot, who's lonely. and wants a beautiful woman. to open her mouth, and prove it something beautiful as well. to leave me wondering hoping living breathing exciting and on to something grand... Or at least, be gone of this loneliness, this mind circling this disatisfaction that is my fuel, as long as i've lived, and what that fuel has created? what of it. what of it. i still need my cat to keep from thoughts of suicide. nothing new. nothing new at all.
thoughts, by the way, are just thoughts. were they even worth coallescence, i'd not just zol-zonk-gooooodmorningworktomorrow.
oh, and touch their skin, so gently. i wonder what skin without fur and other than my own feels like. i am a repositiory of dormant love, that's no question... my psych says she can't predict hhuma.. what the fuck? is that water?
i shoulda dumped it earlier.
Monday, September 19, 2005 11:05 PM
Monday, September 19, 2005 11:27 PM
i gave it a thick coat of all purpose spray adhesive, looks like tree flocking. time to knock off. you can just...
Monday, September 19, 2005 11:29 PM
Tuesday, September 20, 2005 11:23 PM
wrapped it in a a gallon-sized, put a dozen or so white rubber bands aronud it, and cut off its top. it's done. Simple physics, as long as that gallon-sized zippy doesn't get damaged, the water level is lower than the top of the plastic bag... Hell, i shoulda / coulda... ah well, it's this ghetto, i like it. it looks like a mummy. i'll call it ghetto mummy. naw. that's stupid. i'll call it the ghost of the ghetto mummy. naw. that's too high-brow, so high it's over your brow. sleep. yeah. sleep. less than a day. then 3.5. but less than a... no wait. then 2.5. yeah. not so bad.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005 11:32 PM
Wednesday, September 28, 2005 10:31 PM
2.5 3.5 1. 2.5 3.5 1. No way to make it through a week. Ever heard that song, "can't see you when i want to"? i'll see you when i can. my heart is strong and happy, but hope is not allowed. i'm not about to complain, and not about to pine. i've finally made a bit of progress. i can't explain in totality, suffice it to say, come a week ago, i got the most delicate of clues, and more improtantly, i was feeling poor. feeling poor and thinking how much what i was giving meant to me, but knowing where it was going was making me feel better, but i wanted to get my last dime's worth, even if it a bargain, for a man of my means, its a bit. with more means, perhaps i could even have more often than then 2.5, 3.5, 1--but then my money wouldn't be going directly to where i'd want it, and i doubt i'll have means enough that that wouldn't bother me. but, oh, 2.5 is too long.
but i kill that thing with feathers, that flies about, buzz buzz around me, lift my gossamer, see where that coach is taking me.
emily, how i wish to have known you, i woulda came and hung out in your attic, you coulda hung out in my garage if you wanted to, or i'd just go to you, and let you write poetry about my serpentine danger and i about your silly concerns. you would loose them quick with me. and your poetry wouldn't be cold beauty, but firery beauty. and mine, mine would simply have to get better just being around you.
oh, but emily, ... hmm, i wonder if this is the emily paul sang of? emily dickenson, you write more beautiful short poetry than anyone i know. shakespeare might have you beat on the longer stuff. But the best poet, in a traditional sense, is her. For the best of anything, especially a writing genre, to be a woman, is unusual for me. Nash is the best humorist, not the best as far as poetry, but he beats Parker in humor. and in art and music, its hard for me to think of a genre that i have a woman for "best," cindy sherman's pretty good, so is jane campion--she might just be the best short filmmaker i know. oh i'm sure i can tihnk of plenty, actually, percentages equal to the opportunity in each genre. Visual art is tough, as they've been excluded for so long, and the medium is so old.
Speaking of garages. i'll be moving up, to a bigger one, with no washing/dryer in it. No matter what i thought, i couldn't think of how to make this garage seem "roomy" (not spacious) with the washer and dryer in the prominent position they are in. In a few weeks, going from a 2-car to a 3-car (but, of course, in reality, no car--not that my housemates don't like to joke they'll park their cars next to my bed if i get behind in rent, probably even more now). Yeah, and the new place also meant a rent increase, and a new commitment to make larger more consistent pay-offs in money owed, hence i was stressin' about the money i'd have to pay for my 2.5, 3.5, 1--and how i'm going to afford my other habits to my full delight--hence the fixing the old waterpipe. i took off the snack bags and most of the packing tape, then i redid the gallon bag, using 3 epoxy tubes poured first into the bag, then mixed-moved-around in the bag, then i fitted the bag around the outside, and got transparent duct-tape to cover the whole bag, and thus protect it from puncturing. THAT, worked.
I've got it with me right now.
I'm doing okay, i'll survive with what i had left after i repaid jake for lending me to pay for 2.5/3.5/1 (rather the 3.5 and the 1, a family deal of years old, a better deal than rent-controlled-since-the-30s-in-manhattan, pays for the 2.5, but there is no lucky scenario for any other situations i could have, all those extra minutes, sigh...) and with what i've promised to pay jb. he says i'd be paid off in 10 months. i'm very dubious. i also can't think of 10 months. though 10 months pass all the time. after that, i was left with very little, i have just enough to pay back my debt now (since i found a bit of cash, in these sweats, laundered in that prosaic way, that is also in sight, but not for long) for poker. and ... i'm afraid i'll just have to... sigh.
i think i'll have to give up poker. just for a while.
or not. still on the fence. when i am determined not to lose, i can usually prevent it--more than usual. i'm an all or nothing kinda guy. and besides. herb, this girl, rent, poker... where do you think poker is? the rest.. .all how you look at it. and the fact is, when i can comfortably afford my rent in the sky, my rent for my sty, and my rent for ... no, i can't say these things. i'll lose what i have. hope is a thing i shot between the eyes, and feasted upon its entrails.
no, i'll look around. i'll look around i will. damn, the free option, free in money, not time, per se, is in part with my family deal, could help me keep up with her... but not with her... i'm killing it. i am. seriously. watch me stab, i miss, i hesitate, i cut myself even by accident, but i'm getting the job done. and i'm trying to invite other women into my mind. oh yes. oh, that's right.
and my psych says so. and she's never wrong. she knew the cfa was c, at first sight, or was it mention? either way, she knows what's up. (Though she can't give me the complete guarantee i could really use, though i don't want it at all, and i don't suppose anyone can, and its unfair to ask, and all the more why i did--human nature is a pretty hard to guarantee.) She knows what I need is to get out there and meet some new girls. she thinks the internet is the solution.
I don't know how that's exactly going to work when the internet is my release from social convention and restraint, where i take pictures of my warts and photoshop out the rest. i'm here to expose my most unflattering angles, and i've got that scowl just waiting to say "get outta here, grr!" and i'll grab at the air, maybe wave my cane futily at the air. maybe from here to there, like emily just didn't care. oh, emily, would you smoke a bowl with me, or would that be enough to make you need to escape from me... nothing to suggest you were an addict, like me, emily, just depressed, and uh, a bit of social anxiety, i think. what would you think of my habit, would you not want me in attic, even if i weren't to do it in there, around you, or even ask you to, if you didn't want to.
oh, it is nothing to worry about. but its been some time for me. some time indeed. the internet, please.
not that i'm displeased with the idea of courtship by word. how lovely and wonderfully non-confrontational... of course, there's the fact that i'm honest, and that's not necessarily going to get across with my words, one might just think i'm consistent and very parsimonious. But not true. But same can be said when it comes to assessing someone else's honesty, i can't say i'll figure it out with just a few words. Me... I have a blog going back to, well, more than the two years you see here. two years of complete internalization. its been fun. lonely. but fun.
but i'm a doorstep or street corner kind of guy. those are the places you'll find my words. at Random Ave and Ditto Lane. Mr. So and So and Mrs. So and So, i've never known, here you go. leave me alone. i'm going to do more of this alone.
no, i must remember also. lord knows, i don't want to write my way wrong. its just the blog... the blog really hasn't hurt anyone, well, me, at least. hasn't help either, now that i think about it. oh wait, not true, the apostrophe came to me after the mcgriffin chronicles as she put it, not that i had ever before, but i was pleased to since, and then it, well, it just went the way things do with me sometimes.
I think i'm going to add at the top of the greenroom (with the next section, maybe, or maybe not, maybe sooner, but damn, this needs sectioning) links to Shit and Art wonderful titles... anyway, what can you do? They can't all have wonderful titles like "P1 maybe takes drugs"--a classic title, the rest was liked by the prof who i started this damn website as an elective when i went to that stupid university where at the last i met the apostrophe, and no more classes, no more meeting--well, no more university classes, and i've not open mic'd and i really don't want to go out, psych, so i guess the internet it is.
look, all i know, is, and it isn't all i know, "all i know" is just a cheap phrase, so cheap it's often corrupted, alls i knows... Not the typical corruption, but who needs typical? All I know is that ... um... Damn, i started thinking about that freakin' Murphy Brown episode with the late actor who played Vencino or whatever in the Princess Bride. Or was it a different actor... it coulda been a diffrerent actor, but i thought it was mr. inconceivable, the late mr. inconceivable. damn, mandy petam...whatever, that guy, he's at least around and kickin' i saw him as, whatshisface, the Griffin, i believe, and then Sam Watterson says the best line i've ever heard from that damn show. He says it soooo well. "For killing Maggie Sherman!" That's classic, classic... anyway, where was i?
Does he play the fool, can he drop the act when needed? Sure, but such a buzzkill.
alls i don't know is what is going on in my mind. just shut up, don't let on. be cool. let on what? Nothing. cause seriously, i ain't gonna do shit. notta thing. i've waited in purgatory sooooo long, i'm over it, i'm done, i've done my penance and then some, half the kids down th pew, i'm not going to do shit. i've got exactly what i want, what i need, what i've hoped. yes, when the bigger creatures die, the smaller survive. not even hope, its not hope, its like something else. no i am also not so excited with the bigger creatures coming back. they aren't. not without a fight, or something unknown, unseen, and unexpected.
What is it? it's a reminder that the beautiful parts of beautiful emotions, even when they're a little misguided, a bit blind to realities and whatnot, maybe they'll cause more heartache than anything, and it'll exist all inside, but the good part, the beautiful part that is only giving and helping and supporting and inspired and invited and never denied, for it is only a giving thing, that only feels good in giving, when your mind is right, for time has given you that, and you don't have to lie to yourself ever, cause you do, when you're in something of a real-physical, before time has given you a complete assestment. Oh, I'm a slow moving creature, indeed. Now i am. i was too hurried before. i had missed having a relationship, went through a drought, got a mouthful of sand in a mirage. Now i don't miss the water, even with my well dry, i have roots, that survive me well.
i'll just start talking casually more, or at least, do what my psych suggests, since i've really been put to my own devices for 3 years or so, now, and if you read the blog, you'll see that means i get by with mental relationship, i run through the scenarios, and then explore each alternate reality through the dimensional portal of my mind, oh, it could go this way, it could go that way, i'll do this, i'll do that... Nothing happens, nothing happens, nothing--you can guess. So. I think i'll just do what my psychiatrist says.
Thursday, September 29, 2005 0:11 AM
Thursday, September 29, 2005 0:14 AM
i think in the future i'll try to be better about mentioning when the zol hits me, about 30, an hour maybe, ago, considering the amount of sleep i've had, and a number of other things, my mind is really not playing so much as actually existing in a mush-like state. Sooooo, i should really mention that, because, i want to have an excuse later for myself for having saying too much. Oh thank goodness i'm not fun to read.
Thursday, September 29, 2005 0:16 AM
Wednesday, October 5, 2005 11:03 PM
I never move forward always lateral. so, a project i want to finish... i think, i need a precursor. a prelude. And i've only gotten the prelude of the prelude when i realize there's perversity2 besides thegreenroom to worry about... lord... half a year of ramblings to unravel... my mind is a very very scary place.
assuming you find the prospect of being bored senselessly ... its never as boring as its prospect though.
i have to read it again to be sure there's not more to edit out... and its only the prelude of the prelude... and lord, what if i gotta go through that whole preversionredux again...
why am i even blogging right now? I need to sleep. i think if its safe, i'll offer you this prelude to a prelude, to a final project, i'll probably never get to... july 7th to jan 8... NO, that's saying too much! its kinda good read... why am i writing this... i have this disgusting feeling like i'm going to go from jan 8 to today, and then i'll have to select this text... But it sucks. So that's a shame.
plenty to blog about after all... but nothing i feel comfortable enough without getting only two or three sentences before i start baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaackspacing. that's why this is so filler-ish (a word i backspaced). "i will elaborate only if needed." is a sentence left over, i backspaced all the context. and i already backspaced this once, don't want to do it again. but i had to. sucks. just now. cause i wanted to explain, but no, i will elaborate later, only if needed.
Wednesday, October 5, 2005 11:25 PM
Wednesday, October 5, 2005 11:56 PM
i asked for some overtime and now i'm scared i'm going to get let go. There. you happy? I couldn't sleep because of it. i'm not even sure i can now. I really don't think i will be, but lord knows i need my job, and i DEFINITELY didn't want to ask now, but goddammit, my housemates have forced me to, in a way... business isn't, like, booming, particularly, and i'm not doing, like, my most phenomenal and useful stuff. i just want to stay under the radar, what with the new coworker... who might make me expendable... and i'm soooooo scared. why teh hell did i even mention anything?! now i can't sleep. and i need to sleep, cause i need to get up and go to work on time, cause i just don't want to lose my job now, at this point. like... now my boss thinks i'm disatisfied, even though i explained that i am moving and i've had rent and obligations increased on me... regardless, my position could be reevaluated... deemed redundant. unnecessary. i don't want to lose my job. i just wanted to make a scant scad more than the scintilla i'm making now. oh lord. its a silly fear though--i think--i hope. for i think it would be amazingly cruel of someone to fire someone (lay off, whathaveyou) just because they asked to work for a little more (not even get paid more)... oh but my fear is tomorrow, somehow, somewhere my boss will find something... something to consider me delinquint or deficient or defunct or something on... and i'll loose everything. and i'll go back to july 7th. and the cycles. and the wanting to die. i'm so fucking scared. i just want nothing to happen. i wish it never happened. i don't want to lose my job... lord... because i had to pay for my 2.5 to 1 to 3.5 or is it the other way around, and before i could start to budget... and so i ran out yesterday. and i smoked some leftovers (one of my favorite songs... wonderin' when my friends are gonna kick me out... even if no one understand what leftovers are), hell this shouldn't even be green. I just want to sleep and wish it never happened. not want to wish, of course. i wish i didn't wish. i wish i didn't worry at all, cause its pointless, not going to get me to sleep any time sooner. fuck. i shouldn't have said anything. fuck. just cause i had to start paying my higher standard of living before i could budget and thus make it till the next payday and then see i could accrue even, and then survive. and now, i may lose it all. then i don't know what."now tell me baby what that's all about."
Thursday, October 6, 2005 0:09 AM
Thursday, October 6, 2005 7:46 PM
i was not alone in thinking that would be both cruel and indeed unusual for my employer. once my coworker who would know best of all convinced me that it was silly... i asked her, so what, is it 80? 80% that i'll still be employed? 80...? more like 90... No, 99... Actually, it's just ridiculous. --that made me feel a lot better. No more was said of it, which is exactly how i wanted it, and my boss even gave me an affirming sign of encouragement, whatever you might call it, for accomplishing a somewhat-simple technical task, i just networked the mfp for each user, to select and pop up the scan on their machine... still, i felt much better today. in fact, i'm so over it, i forgot to even mention it to my psych. well, there's no "forgetting." it's either bothering me or its not, and if it's not, then its obsolete. i certainly didn't feel obsolete today, though, and it was very encouraging. yeah, i knew it was stupid to be so worried. it helps also when you got a good friend to help until payday. no leftovers tonight! i have to finsh revising that prelude/prelude. why was i even worried... oh yeah... higher stakes make one overly concerned... Okay... Me, overly concerned. I've fucked up a relationship or two that way... But work, luckily, requires... why... work... Very straightforward, no missteps in work. In relatonships, i might do the wrong thing, at least in work i know what the right things are. Still... If i didn't have my coworker to reaffirm that i wasn't going to be fired / let go / whathaveyou... I'd have survived, probably, but it would not have been a good day, and i would not be so relieved and assured. Since i know i can budget, at have prepared, first payday, then payoff, and maybe, maybe... slowly accrue. I am almost sure... i was just about to think... i might need to quit poker though... and then i remember what day it is, and what time it is, and i just went out of my room, sure enough everyone's here... So. Well, shit. i'm in a good mood. When i'm in a good mood, i rarely lose. it'll all be good one way or the other, i already know the money i have for the person i let it to is as good as already relent to me, and you can mark my words. Sometimes a man gets delt bullshit. But i think that's pretty rare. the best usually come out on top... okay... i'm not the best at the table, so... oh well, i'm going to enjoy myself, and that's enough to secure chips somehow, oh yes... that's right, that's why i'm not the best, because when i feel like shit, no matter how hard i try, i still end up losing. self fulfilling prophesy or something, well, it can work both ways. or something. whatever, time's wasting.
Thursday, October 6, 2005 8:07 PM
Friday, October 7, 2005 1:00 AM
ooooor, you can end up losing quite a bit. But the person relent me, a few times over, and told me i never have to worry about it, as i've always made good before. and then i asked him if he, at my age, would take such an offer, so as to play and be sociable, though it might mean undertaking a tab. he said "absolutely..." So... now i'm a bit conflicted. otherwise i was going to make it quite clear i wasn't going to play again until i made some extra cash, so as to afford it, frankly poker is too risky a gamble, and that's all there is to it. But i really did get dealt some horrendous shit... still, no excuses. i'm not feeling like shit, i have an optomistic look. ieither i pay back and i keep playing or i have to wait and quit, and then pay back... or i may wait and keep playing and then pay back who knows... i dunno, i obviously need to be more than in good spirits to win. ah... well, its not like i can continue that tab and have a cent to my name, not my style. no... i'm not going to get bank rolled. i'm going to play smarter, or i'll force myself to stay at the table--hence no incentive to lose so as to get to leave, if i have to stay, maybe i won't play as many stupid hands... i'm also going to have to start bringing my notebook. i'm naturally a wild player so when i act conservative its always better. And besides i'll put it simply, either put up with me and my notebook and my drawing, because it may mean i'll sometimes lose attention in the game, and that of course is the point, since frankly were it interesting when i wasn't in, it would be diffirent. if i simply refuse to play half the hands i normally do, i'll do much better. i'll try this with the notebook next week--and if i end up losing as much, fuck it. And i'll keep a tab, lord knows i will, he's got--well, supposedly i hear today, a multimilliondollar nest egg or something?--so that makes me feel better about it. Regardless, point is, soon i'll try my new strategy, if it doesn't work, well... i think i know. i'm going to cap myself, and i'll force myself to stay, even after i lose my cap. i'll want to hang on to my money then, since i can't leave regardless, i'm going to want to be able to play, and then i can fulfill the social aspect of it, that is why i'm being covered so quickly, and not have to get covered in the future, i'll have this thing licked shortly. BUT, so as not to give away strategy, i'll keep that number in my head, ahead of time. If i had done that earlier tonight, i would have been just as social, been up just as late, but certainly not as uncautious. you know, poker is a lot like computers, impatience is the enemy. yes i will definitely try this next week. it's not always fun having to stay around while other people are playing... but its also not as fun to lose as it is to win, and patience--more than even a good mood--will win. yes, life is different with budgets, but sometimes they can be somewhat good. i dare say, even if this methodology does me well, well enough that i win more regulary and greater, such is the nature of it, that it can't be dismissed with success. after all, its true that want most is your company, that's why they want you to stay and keep playing. Unless you're chip leader. but if you're busting, people don't mind you not playing, they only mind you leaving--it's the person who's busted who doesn't want to stay if not playing. Yes, i think this methodology will do me well next week. can't hurt as much as this "feels good do it" mentality, sigh, at least he won't be expecting it any time soon... And if it doesn't work, or for whatever reason i need to abandon it, i'll let you know otherwise, expect it. and i'm basically just repeating myself to hopefully not forget it, as that seems to be the only potential failing to this logic.
Friday, October 7, 2005 1:29 AM
Saturday, October 8, 2005 7:22 PM
should i sing it, write it, or draw it?
i think sing. sam cooke and the soul stirrers, always takes care of me when i feel this way.
i'll just finish this and maybe the next bowl, and then record.
i wonder how many takes i have with orig. audio already? i don't know, but i prefer forward. and progress and all that.
yeesh... when i think... i think... and i can't. i want to, but i shouldn't. today isn't only a day. it is the first time i felt one feeling. ever. and another feeling that kinda went with it. but couldn't follow through. but we'll see.
what feelings? why is there so much ambiguity in my blog? because i'm not very clever. not very clever at keeping anonymity. i should just not tell anyone about this blog. i'd feel much more free... but then again, what have i to feel unfree from?
oh, sam cooke, he was such a fucking genius. i did tell my mom about a year ago that i was gonig to fix it, and since i just read about it, maybe i should do it... you see, prelude/prelude ends right after christmas. and i tried to make an album for christmas, but i was stupid--or rather inexperienced even still, at this fucking old age, at mixing and hadn't yet realized how necessary it is to have orig. on the side, that you'll eventually get rid of, but you need to get beginning of each song, it is never exact in timing to just do the beginning of a playlist. why am i even bothering to tell you all this?
he was a genius. am i? you know, i think not even a genius can tell if he's a genius. or she for that matter. i'm getting pretty good at picking out intelligence though. it hurts sometimes, to think.... ... but never to sing... and now ... i'm on no. 8. Lord, singin'... ooo, hallelejuah, i don't know how to spell that, not something that even came up in catholic grade school. i definitely have to record tihs...
for my mother, the one person. i have a cat. but not a person. That's right, run home to mom. oh well. i hear someone, must be j.b. soon my mind can return to solitude. soon, i won't even be in this room. soon i will be elsewhere's. such a weird thought, but not too weird. yeah fuck the neighbors, who knows some might miss it, and of course i wouldn't do this on a weeknight, cuz i don't really think fuck the neighbors. more like fuck the haters. i didn't get to know any of them, but the neighbors were cool here.
cuz i never knew any of them.
anyway. i will enjoy performing. singing. i love singing. maybe a harmonica track. Oooh yes. that's it. "Just another day" the song i think about all the time, about going through just another day. another day. i think i probably should have it all planned out. But i won't. cause i want so much to do sam and then another guy. i probably shouldn't. But then again, whatever. you know go back and forth between in the same take. okay, another bowl is always good. is it? oh yes. now it is. i'm going to sing this like i don't even know.
this is a mean old, mean old world, all by yourself. whatever happened to? ugh, i need to record. i also need to not obsess over my frankenbong, never die! never will.
we can rebuild it. we can make it ... somewhat sufficient...
...
oh ... no... where is my cat?!?! there were gardners earlier... they cut away all the trees and stuff, scared my cat away, i'm sure, where did he go though? he shoulda stayed in my room... where did he go, that he could be safe?! what if he... went into... no... ... oh god, where's my cat... i hate this feeling. the worst buzzkill alive. what if... what if someone hh..hhhit him... and since i don't like making my cat wear a collar, cause he's usually good about staying away from people and stuff, and i always tell him to stay out of the road... he'd probably quicker go into some yard... oh i hope not one with some dog that ... and ... oh where is my cat? what if he got chased away, and didn't come back before we left? oh god, i am feeling very sick. very stupid. but that's anxiety... oh yeah... i forgot. i actually have a prescription for that! A real one. So. zol.
i can't do anything about it, but wait, wait for my cat, half my life, to come back.
oh god... where and is he okay... it's preparing me for children. i always think. god, what if ... yeah, no more thinking.
...
god damn cat scared the shit out of me. he musta been hiding in the corner somwhere. lord.
frankebong lives again..
...
yea... i'm just going to delete it.
Sunday, October 9, 2005 1:50 AM
Sunday, October 9, 2005 8:49 PM
i've been miserable, but my pride is keeping me from elaborating. i don't normally have that... but it's also a slight matter of decorum. suffice it to say, i've had things i'd rather not on my mind for too long. and they hurt too much. i delete when i talk about them.
i will survive though. But i must find love. that's a given now. or i might just break down.
no... i'll survive... but, still, i must find love. this just hurts too damn much.
Sunday, October 9, 2005 9:01 PM
Monday, October 10, 2005 11:57 PM I don't have a color background for how i feel. Less than a week before I have to move and my housemates have changed my "options." I.e. I have one. I have to move to the smaller room. No problem. I'd have to give up my bed, no problem. not record. no problem. let my cat in and out.... Problem. My cat is my life, the one thing i love and loves me unconditionally besides my mother. Now they are asking me to make my cat, a cat who as long as I've had him, who's always had a window to go out, who never had to wear a collar and has never (even when had to, because he was stuck inside my room, he didn't properly) used a litter box. Now they want me to make it so he goes only into the laundry room, and then IF someone's around to let him in and out. I totally was alright with making a cat ramp, they were against it, HOA and whatnot. Of course, up until now, i was pretty much told i was going to have the garage, that i would have to pay more, and also increase my ammount to j.b. Fine. I made the concessions. But now, NOW, less than a week before we have to move--knowing how already stressed i am, just with the idea of having to move my cat, they've changed it around. Of course, if it wasn't for jake's gf now living with us--or them, perhaps now--he wouldn't need the bigger room. Or we wouldn't have her goddamn cat, which makes it so i can't leave the window open, the only way i could manage before living in the living room, or in the garage before i worked out the cat door with the vent. And i was near panicking when they were suggesting it before when she first came over and the vent wasn't yet removed. But I figured something out, now, though, they won't even let me figure something out, the only room i could have is on the second floor, they won't let me tunnel or something to the bottom floor window, and they won't let me make a fire-escape/ramp thing to my window on the second floor... Of course, they could just give me the room they told me I was going to have at the price they were going to let me have it, and not fuck me over like this. I was totally cool with having jake's gf move in--before i knew it would eventually mean me having to move out. i have to talk to my coworker tomorrow about maybe living together. or something. somewhere else, i dunno where, if i want to keep my job here... and be safe knowing my cat would be alright... Oh god, what am i going to do? even if i decide to move out, what do i do? Live in the laundry room?? cause i NEED to be near my cat. I can't see any way around it. They should have known... J.b. says his cat at home goes in and out--but i'm sure he also uses a litter box. And one way or the other, if i start living in an upstair's room instead of a garage, he's going to have to change his lifestyle--and i'm scared to death of that. That cat is my life. Why are they even doing this to me? Dropping this on me last minute like this, so unfair. Forcing it make it seem like i'm the bad guy who can't accomodate... But i am willing to make lots of accomodations. Except there's one i can't... Part of my concern is just that he needs somewhere safe to go. Another is that if he can't come to me, he'll run away. Oh, if i didn't have to worry, if i could be assured that the laundry room would work, i'd be fine with it. But they are forcing this on me. Now. Because they knew i wouldn't be cool with it? So why not wait till he has no choice? I don't know. I could make all the other accomodations easily enough, i wouldn't have my large bed, oh well. I'd be making more of a dent on my debt--i told them flat out, though, if i have to move, i'll never find a good enough deal that i'll be able to pay them back quicker. I seriously think if j.b. would just allow an even greater increase in rent, and stay the same on how much i gave him, and just hope i have a raise to pay him back more, he'd get it sooner. Lord knows i want to pay him back very soon. And if i were to get a raise or more work, i would use a bit of that money to pay him back, sooner than i would, say, start saving it or something... Oh, my cat... My life! Why are they doing this to me?! I don't want to think less of them, but if they just kept to the plan, instead, they're fucking me over. LAST MINUTE. at that. oh i hope my coworker can live with me, and i can find some place where i'd have my cat be happy. I don't know how happy he'd be in the other situation... Maybe he wouldn't mind it... But he wouldn't be able to sleep at my foot and not get to go to the bathroom all night long...... Would he? i don't think so. I can't do what they're suggesting. ... i have to go to work in a wee few hours. and i have so much else going on too. and this happens. They could just go with the plan as it was. Why... ... i clearly want to do it, i'm not worried in the least about the lesser accomodations. The fact that my ability to get laid would decrease--fuck it, i don't need that, any extra factor, who cares--my cat is my love. I need him. And i need him at the foot of my bed. I need him to get able to get in, and get to his food, and when he needs to, he can come to me, and i'll be there for him... It is kinda good that he'll have the laundry room, but that just... sigh... are they doing this now intentionally? I don't know. What am I going to do? I don't know. They have given me until the end of tomorrow, business day, to decide. I think it's extremely rotten of them to do. If they had given me some time to maybe work out some other options... Fucking a. Cause even if my coworker was down to live together, where, when, how? what about my cat?????? what about my cat? love him so. i hope he'll stay on my bed tonight. Tuesday, October 11, 2005 0:23 AM Tuesday, October 11, 2005 0:44 AM yes... that might work... If i could have the door to the laundry room and the door to my room open, and they just kept their cat indoors at night, then my cat could come and go onto my bed and outside to go to the bathroom. And during the day, i'd have the door to the laundry room closed, and let him in and out--it'll still suck, but i could at least try to make that work. THAT could work. But they are asleep. i tried to whisper to jake to see if he was awake, but no good. Yes, that would work for me. It would be fair. It would half and half. Even less than half. Just eight hours, minimum, every night, where their cat would be in his room, and my cat could get into my room and outside. They have to agree... Or else... i don't know what... i wish they were awake, maybe i could get some sleep then. Tuesday, October 11, 2005 0:48 AM Tuesday, October 11, 2005 7:43 AM He won't do it. That son of a bitch. Only 8 hours. 8 measely hours. Because i know my cat can't manage to stay on my bed for 8 hours, and they won't do it. Cause he doesn't want a litter box in their room. Fuckers. They've completely fucked me over. Tuesday, October 11, 2005 7:46 AM
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