You know the problem with staying away from a lot of useless material possesions?

Nothing to pawn.

Invasion

with bleary eyes I smell the lake. Its summer here now, it hasn't felt like it. but it smells like it. Eerily smooth rocks baking in the sun and faint remnants of vegitation drifting to the shore, soaked with water life.

But a look around shows spring. A long winter, a long spring. Will they all drawl like this?

My Jasmine plant is in bloom. It drifts to me, plays with me, catches me offguard with its magic. It sings and soothes, pleads for me to fade into it's petals. Seeps to my senses. And my heart aches to be there. I fall to it. Fall and float within its existence. It's all I can do.

Remind me of things I do not know, my Jasmine. Entice, demand, permit.

The longer days steal my nights. My nights, my nights. For me. But im never fulfilled, never satisfied with what I take from them. With motivation shot, desire boils. They will not play together. They leave me....empty. And still, overflowing.

Will it leak over time? Or rather, will it burst? Burst, please. Explode in defiance, give me something to know, something to see.

Finally, now the sun descends. Darkening sky, shower on me the night's stars.

Lead the way.

My screen isn't showing the highlights of spell check...so you're on your own.

I had in my head the other night a story Id started years upon years ago. Like all my stories, this was left unfinished. But for different reasons. Rather than for lack of desire, this story was never finished b/c it was so different from my normal style, I couldnt quite pull the idea together.



Anyway, it was in my head. And so I dug thru the box of notebooks labled "Papers to be sorted, eventually" (Which,actually, is fairly sorted, now) and pulled out 3 notebooks of forgotten words.



I found the one I was looking for and wondered to myself if I should just post what few pages i had. And so I think I will. Not now...but soon!



That was Stewie Griffin, btw.



I have a useless talent for memorizing dialogue. It goes hand in hand with my television episode ESP.



That box of semi-sorted ramblings, btw, has also been on my mind lately. In the spirit of purging...



Ive cleaned out once or twice, gotten rid of all the words i carry with me, perhaps a little too heavily. And sometimes I think about what was in there, but then, i don't really remember any of it, so i can't really miss it.



It gets like that sometimes for me, the half filled notebooks and scraps of paper taking up space in the back of a closet, piled haphazardly on a desk, spilling from forgotten binders. Its method of organization known only, if at all, to me. They become a burden rather than a release. They become...useless.



On another note entirely...why are they making another Hulk movie? Are they trying to reedeem themselves? i don't know, I was never a Hulk fan...



But it's got Ed Norton in it, so I'm seeing it whether I want to or not.

Liberation Through Disruption

I was chatting on the computer the other day, rambling on as I tend to do, and I brought up a subject very near and dear to my heart. The Art of purging.

No, not the eating disorder kind...the good kind.

Anyway, I was discussing the possible theraputic properties of seemingly disasterous disruptions, ie: A disfiguring scar or loss of a limb.

The last thing I remember writing was a simple declarative sentence that came as no surprise to my reader: "I like to purge"

It was then that the Universe, in cahoots with my left arm (Damn rebellious left side of my body!) decided to teach me a lesson. And so, moving frantically but precicly, my arm directed itself towards my quite tasty Sam Adams Winter Ale. In car-crash slow motion, I watched the bottle tip, and then foam...all over my laptop keyboard.

After leaping to my feet and laughing, I shouted the necessary obsenities. The I laughed again. A little maniacally, perhaps.

The circumstances were appropriately timed.

I may as well have lost a limb.

I love a point with a punchline.

Barflies

I like barflies.

I sit next to them and I wait...just wait. Time brings all confessions, my friends. If you're there, and your willing to listen, you'll hear them all.

Todd-- barfly. Sober for 14 years. Addicted to Crack and Heroine. 2 daughters. 2 adopted sons . "Those little bastards did wonders for my taxes!", he told me.

Married to a women he doesn't really like, but loves. Or so he assumes.

Gwen-- married multiple times. divorced just as many. She broke her spinal cord 5 months ago trying to pull her rascal out of the ditch she'd driven herself into coming home from the bar.

People watching has always fascinated me. But people listening... that lends you to some interesting world views. And given time....all world views

They all come down to the same things, Ive noticed. Basic human observances that lead to a general conclusion of life's ultimate meaning.

Be happy, people. Go for what you love, and love the struggle in doing so. Regardless of the results.

"My brain is trying to kill me" --The Wise Calvin

You ever get the feeling your mind is trying to sabotage you?

I'm reminded of that Calvin and Hobbes strip where he is sitting at the top of a hill on his sled and he's telling himself: "Go ahead down. You'll miss all those trees. You can do it. You'll stop before you go over that ledge at the bottom. You won't go into that pond. Besides, the ice is probably real thick anyway. Go ahead down." And then he turns to the reader in classic Calvin style and says "My brain is trying to kill me. "

Well, I don't actually think my brain is trying to kill me. I imagine it would be quite bored without a body to do it's bidding.

But my mind and I have been at odds lately.

Its a bit like dorm life, I imagine. You know, you're sitting there trying to study for an exam and the people across the hall are having an almost-graduation blow out. Its hard enough to concentrate with the walls thumping, but then in wanders this drunk girl who starts messing with all your shit.

"No, wait...No, don't touch that!...please put that down...no no no no! What are you doing??"

Its not really that you're angry about the loud music or the girl passed out on your bed, as long as she's quiet, but you can't help but feel a little jealous that they are doing the things you want to do.

Oh god...what is that? Fuck, did that girl throw up in your sink??

The toilet is 2 feet away!!!

Its not really quite that bad. I'm significantly more aligned than the past month or so. But I'm combative with myself. Disruptive. Agitated. Or antsy, anyway. Poking myself almost constantly.

And I'm starting to get a welt.

Remember?

A few days ago, my writing and I had a long conversation. After a heart-wrenching trial separation, we decided we were indeed meant to be together. Tho the context might be different than expected or perceived.

We will still see others, we concluded. For during our distance I began a torrid affair with paint. And although nothing has yet come of it, clay and I have been flirting, shamelessly, for months.

She's a dirty girl, that clay. Not the kind of medium you bring home to mother. But then, I like that about her. 3rd dimensionalism is hot.

I told her, my dear writing, that I would never betray her again. I would not judge her too harshly nor deprive her of discipline.

I would neither confine her to the cluttered walls of my mind, nor force her to stand, naked and shivering, at time's doorstep.

I will not hide from you. I will not deny you. I will not allow you to be compromised.

You can only be you. And I love you for that.