It's 3am on a Tesday morning. Im out of paint. The rest of the house has succumed to sleep. Only me and my loyal feline remain concious. He waits for me. And this makes him cranky. Cranky and affectionate.
He and I are one in the same. But only towards eachother.
My plane ticket has been purchased. My notice at work given. And soon I shall be wandering the awkwardly familiar surroundings of my youth in search of something I cannot define, with a plan no more clear than to have no plan at all. It may come to be that I visit only two states. Or perhaps I will bus myself from one city to another in a desperate need to see. Time and chance will tell.
My eyes are becoming heavy now and my cat flops at my feet, beckoning that I either join him in sleep or play.
I shall do one or the other. Or perhaps both.
Goodnight, good morning, goodnight.
Dappled and Drowsy
Many many months ago I planted some seeds in my mind. Almost forgetting they were there at all until the stems began to emerge from the well maintained compost pile that are my thoughts. Not refuse, exactly, but certainly not anything to consume.
Beginning as still precious and precarious they were fed the proper environment. And now, they grow larger everyday, at a rate still amazing as only the youth of life can do. I pinch them back and sing to them softly, I pluck the pests that wander their leaves.
They are too young yet to identify the species. Will they flower? Is their color to be green? Red? Purple? Will they grow to a mound, or will they trail?
Are they invasive?
The joy, of course, is in that they've grown at all.
Perhaps Id not forgotten them. I might very well have just put them out of my mind to allow nature to take its course with no expectations of results.
I rather like surprises.
Beginning as still precious and precarious they were fed the proper environment. And now, they grow larger everyday, at a rate still amazing as only the youth of life can do. I pinch them back and sing to them softly, I pluck the pests that wander their leaves.
They are too young yet to identify the species. Will they flower? Is their color to be green? Red? Purple? Will they grow to a mound, or will they trail?
Are they invasive?
The joy, of course, is in that they've grown at all.
Perhaps Id not forgotten them. I might very well have just put them out of my mind to allow nature to take its course with no expectations of results.
I rather like surprises.
Mood Indigo
I was able to catch some sleep this morning, though it was not sleep Id been chasing. But a barrage of silent conversations to span from rise to fall of the nights scenery.
Tubes of paint vanished to a canvas that looks mysteriously similar to its state 32 hours ago. So where did it all go, i wonder? Somewhere in this house is 4 oz of Cadmium Red. Can there really be so many layers? And more disturbing, are they all the same? I knew that shade didn't work, but i tried still, somehow expecting the right color to emerge.
Hmmm..isn't that used as an example of insanity?
I found solace in the discussion of dufflebags and film. Of reality and perception. Questions of memories danced to my eyes before the sun found its way thru my windows. Things not known, and not knowing what is unknown. What is self? How mch is too much for a pair of jeans? Whatever happened to that fabulous shirt? Desires, temptations, forgetfulness. Quiet battles with deafaning results. These things played with me to the overlap of days.
They plays still. My hands remain covered in dry paint, reminding me Im not yet finished.
And with this I return to stratify my reds with purple or blue. perhaps green. Perhaps.
Tubes of paint vanished to a canvas that looks mysteriously similar to its state 32 hours ago. So where did it all go, i wonder? Somewhere in this house is 4 oz of Cadmium Red. Can there really be so many layers? And more disturbing, are they all the same? I knew that shade didn't work, but i tried still, somehow expecting the right color to emerge.
Hmmm..isn't that used as an example of insanity?
I found solace in the discussion of dufflebags and film. Of reality and perception. Questions of memories danced to my eyes before the sun found its way thru my windows. Things not known, and not knowing what is unknown. What is self? How mch is too much for a pair of jeans? Whatever happened to that fabulous shirt? Desires, temptations, forgetfulness. Quiet battles with deafaning results. These things played with me to the overlap of days.
They plays still. My hands remain covered in dry paint, reminding me Im not yet finished.
And with this I return to stratify my reds with purple or blue. perhaps green. Perhaps.
I was nearly attacked by a kamakaze hummingbird today. I didn't see it, or hear it, or even feel it, but while tending to my plants (Of which, sadly, there are much fewer than only a month ago) I was startled from silent musings by a sort of childish squeal. I turned to find the source of said sound and faced my boss who, apparently, was already part way through whatever she was saying. How these people expect to compete with the plants for my attention, I don't know. This was, essentially, that a hmming bird had almost flown right into my head just a second before.
There is something off with the winged creatures out here. They are either suicidal or dangerous thrill seekers. But not 2 days will pass before one flies right into the car at 60 miles an hour. Oh, they miss it, everytime. *knock on wood*, but some days they come within, i swear, a few meager inches.
And of course, time slows down then, like it will in a car accident. And ill throw my hand up to my mouth, gasp heavily, and hold my breath ntil I know it made it out okay. If Im passenger, Ill close my eyes.
I want to get out of the car and yell at them like some old man bitching about the teenagers on his lawn. "Damn kids!"
It must be the lake air. Or all the vineyards.
A random thought came to mind just now. Or a flashback, rather. Random, all the same.
I remember sitting in a career counselors office at the community college I briefly attended, and for some readon the career counelor bagan talking to me about a student he currently had. She was studying to be a vet and paying her way with stripping.
He said to me "I tried to explain to her that she'd never make as much as a vet as she did as a stripper..."
Yes, well. There it is.
And now I must learn about a missing pyramid. The History Channel demands so.
I abide. For science.
There is something off with the winged creatures out here. They are either suicidal or dangerous thrill seekers. But not 2 days will pass before one flies right into the car at 60 miles an hour. Oh, they miss it, everytime. *knock on wood*, but some days they come within, i swear, a few meager inches.
And of course, time slows down then, like it will in a car accident. And ill throw my hand up to my mouth, gasp heavily, and hold my breath ntil I know it made it out okay. If Im passenger, Ill close my eyes.
I want to get out of the car and yell at them like some old man bitching about the teenagers on his lawn. "Damn kids!"
It must be the lake air. Or all the vineyards.
A random thought came to mind just now. Or a flashback, rather. Random, all the same.
I remember sitting in a career counselors office at the community college I briefly attended, and for some readon the career counelor bagan talking to me about a student he currently had. She was studying to be a vet and paying her way with stripping.
He said to me "I tried to explain to her that she'd never make as much as a vet as she did as a stripper..."
Yes, well. There it is.
And now I must learn about a missing pyramid. The History Channel demands so.
I abide. For science.
"See the cat? See the cradle?"
Upon having woken this morning slightly more sober than when I went to bed, I remain determined still that a Ninja bootcamp, ala Batman Begins, is just what I need. Yes! To learn the way of the Invisible! I yearn for this.
Only slightly deterred by the fact that my meager means will not get me to the snowy seclusions of foriegn montains, I plan for an extended trip out west to convene with my instigators, I mean, Ninja masters.
I must first be put in full view of my greater discomforts so as to learn and appreciate my motivations for invisibility. Face fears first, battle them silently thereafter.
I've already got the all black attire. But that is a little bland, I think. And so I shall add to the mix my rainbow striped bandadna to hide the nature of my hair. And, of course, those flat ninja shoes just won't do. Its not a problem with them being flat, per se, but surely, a kick to the face with some stylish footwear would make a greater impression.
The kicked will awake later and ponder the lesson bestowed on them. All the while thinking "I'll give that Ninja this...they sure were stylin'. I'd be wise to consider such a beating from such fashionable shoes!"
Yes, this is what I hope to leave people with on my blur through the West.
No time for spellcheck, Ive excursions to plan.
Only slightly deterred by the fact that my meager means will not get me to the snowy seclusions of foriegn montains, I plan for an extended trip out west to convene with my instigators, I mean, Ninja masters.
I must first be put in full view of my greater discomforts so as to learn and appreciate my motivations for invisibility. Face fears first, battle them silently thereafter.
I've already got the all black attire. But that is a little bland, I think. And so I shall add to the mix my rainbow striped bandadna to hide the nature of my hair. And, of course, those flat ninja shoes just won't do. Its not a problem with them being flat, per se, but surely, a kick to the face with some stylish footwear would make a greater impression.
The kicked will awake later and ponder the lesson bestowed on them. All the while thinking "I'll give that Ninja this...they sure were stylin'. I'd be wise to consider such a beating from such fashionable shoes!"
Yes, this is what I hope to leave people with on my blur through the West.
No time for spellcheck, Ive excursions to plan.
Peace, Yo
My brother said to me something once that really stuck in my mind. He does this alot. And I was thinking of it this morning as I puttered diligently around my house. "In my experience, once you get an idea in your head, it's pretty much decided"
And I thought, Damn, is that what im like? One devoted impulse after another? I was slightly offended at first. No, not offended. Taken aback. But then, that's what ideas are for, no?
Thats how I like to roll. Or rather, It's why I roll.
Love moss as I do, Id rather see it passing under me in a blur of seemingly endless varieties and touch it if only briefly than to have it grow over my eyes and leave me blind.
On another note, I located kitten heels the other day. This pleases me. Polka dotted ones, no less. Ask and ye shall receive, the Universe has generously offered me. I should have asked for a transmogrifier. Or a teleporter. Hmmm...Is it too late?
Im happy to take the shoes, either way.
And I thought, Damn, is that what im like? One devoted impulse after another? I was slightly offended at first. No, not offended. Taken aback. But then, that's what ideas are for, no?
Thats how I like to roll. Or rather, It's why I roll.
Love moss as I do, Id rather see it passing under me in a blur of seemingly endless varieties and touch it if only briefly than to have it grow over my eyes and leave me blind.
On another note, I located kitten heels the other day. This pleases me. Polka dotted ones, no less. Ask and ye shall receive, the Universe has generously offered me. I should have asked for a transmogrifier. Or a teleporter. Hmmm...Is it too late?
Im happy to take the shoes, either way.
Vibrations
Change is in the air. Its rolling like a wave thru lives of loved ones. Peopleare wanting something more, or something else. Just something. Seemingly sudden.
It crests, it crashes, it crests again. Frstrating at times. But facinating. I enjoy undulation. Movement, expansion, momentum.
Lexi informed me that she was told by her Herbalist who learned from her Astrologist that current commotion is caused by the planets being aligned in such a way not seen since the 60's.
So many middle-men. We've wrangled the Universe into bureaucracy. It was only a matter of time.
Soon, paperwork. Oh, you better believe it.
Love is a hot topic this season as well. It fits, commotion and what-not. It may be the new black. Im curios then, whatever will become of the old black? Or the black before that?And still, the black before that? While Im on the topic of lost fads I'd like to inquire as to the disappearence of the kitten heel...the only thing I see it on anymore is flip flips.
Flip flops? Please. I sigh heavily. And laugh heartedly.
I wonder, with such potential changes, if now would not be the time to join a traveling circus. I could share a trailer with the bearded lady, or that torso guy while I pitch and un-pitch tents all over the country. I might even be able to invoke the acrobats of ancesty and be given a place to swing and fly and fall, preferably onto that fabulous net.
In any case, I should be able to sneak access to it at some point. I mean, Carnies gotta eat, right?
It crests, it crashes, it crests again. Frstrating at times. But facinating. I enjoy undulation. Movement, expansion, momentum.
Lexi informed me that she was told by her Herbalist who learned from her Astrologist that current commotion is caused by the planets being aligned in such a way not seen since the 60's.
So many middle-men. We've wrangled the Universe into bureaucracy. It was only a matter of time.
Soon, paperwork. Oh, you better believe it.
Love is a hot topic this season as well. It fits, commotion and what-not. It may be the new black. Im curios then, whatever will become of the old black? Or the black before that?And still, the black before that? While Im on the topic of lost fads I'd like to inquire as to the disappearence of the kitten heel...the only thing I see it on anymore is flip flips.
Flip flops? Please. I sigh heavily. And laugh heartedly.
I wonder, with such potential changes, if now would not be the time to join a traveling circus. I could share a trailer with the bearded lady, or that torso guy while I pitch and un-pitch tents all over the country. I might even be able to invoke the acrobats of ancesty and be given a place to swing and fly and fall, preferably onto that fabulous net.
In any case, I should be able to sneak access to it at some point. I mean, Carnies gotta eat, right?
Burn Burn Burn
I saw a most magnificent bug just a few days ago. It was a glowing, iridescent green. almost too green. Unreal. It had a beetle-like shell, but spider-like legs. It was short, and frantic in its movements. Perhaps because I was hovering over it at thousands of times it's size.
It acted rather as the doomed female in teenage slasher movies.
Stupid girl.
Why does she grab,of all things, a spatula from the kitchen on her way UPSTAIRS where she proceeds to lock herself in? That's Darwinism. You know what people like that are good for? Distraction. Enough time to get out of the house while the killer is going for the moron trapped on the second floor.
But back to the bug... It scurried arond in circles for a while before disappearing almost as suddenly as it had appeared.
I wondered then, would I see that bug again? I mean, I don't recall ever having seen one like it before.
And then I thought of all the bugs I didn't know. All the animals, the trees, the art, the flowers, the streets, the towns, and yes...the bars. All these things, ready for the taking. Almost begging me to grab on.
Where are my gripped gloves? The ones that match my sweet Brooklyn pumps...you know, the ones I never wear but like to put up on a viewable shelf. If I could find those gloves I bet Id wear the shoes more often.
\
It acted rather as the doomed female in teenage slasher movies.
Stupid girl.
Why does she grab,of all things, a spatula from the kitchen on her way UPSTAIRS where she proceeds to lock herself in? That's Darwinism. You know what people like that are good for? Distraction. Enough time to get out of the house while the killer is going for the moron trapped on the second floor.
But back to the bug... It scurried arond in circles for a while before disappearing almost as suddenly as it had appeared.
I wondered then, would I see that bug again? I mean, I don't recall ever having seen one like it before.
And then I thought of all the bugs I didn't know. All the animals, the trees, the art, the flowers, the streets, the towns, and yes...the bars. All these things, ready for the taking. Almost begging me to grab on.
Where are my gripped gloves? The ones that match my sweet Brooklyn pumps...you know, the ones I never wear but like to put up on a viewable shelf. If I could find those gloves I bet Id wear the shoes more often.
\
Flurries
I dreampt in sharp greys- as piercing as they were variable. Sweetly abrasive in tones of the infinite.
If I could have grabbed held of those shades and pulled them back with me, Id carry them around in my wallet.
Id vanish around a corner when an opportunity arose, and gaze inside it- giggling madly to myself.
In Brooklyn, no one would think anything of it. But small towns give peculiar stares.
If I could have grabbed held of those shades and pulled them back with me, Id carry them around in my wallet.
Id vanish around a corner when an opportunity arose, and gaze inside it- giggling madly to myself.
In Brooklyn, no one would think anything of it. But small towns give peculiar stares.
Speaking of Combustion...
Nothing in particular brought it on. Or, at least, nothing I remember .
A normal trip to work. Not unlike any other. 30 minute drive. Modest Mouse, probably.
But i it came to me with a ferocity Id not been prepared for.
A burning. Starting in my stomach, I think. I can't be sure as it spread so fast; to my chest, and then my face. And my mind jumped suddenly to all those stories of spontaneous combustion I'd heard about in grade school. The classroom arguements as to fact of stories. And I thought, Is this what it feels like? Just before it happens?
Will these internal flames burst free? Will they engulf my hair and flesh as they have my blood? My brain?
Will they consume me? Leave me to a pile of ash on smoldering upholstery?
It never happened, in case your wondering.
It faded as I entered the greenhouse. As everything fades there. No, it's not accurate. There is much growth. But not for that. Not there,
I am a water bearer, so the stars tell me. Well, not the stars. Rather, the people who interpret them.
The stars do not speak to me. They sing. In vibrating waves of photonic matter. They've never personally regailed me with tails of mermen pouring jugs of precious H2O. But perhaps my ears are not open enough.
(Is it sea water, I wonder, or fresh? Ive not heard anything either way.)
Water bound as I'm said to be, it is fire that entices me. That erratic flicker of searing heat preaches to me.
"You can never be completely lost. You are in here, somewhere. At least partly.
Watch, wait, listen , be still.", it orders me. Its voice calming, commanding.
"In my glow you can find your center".
And I can.
Whether above or below, always slightly to the left.
A normal trip to work. Not unlike any other. 30 minute drive. Modest Mouse, probably.
But i it came to me with a ferocity Id not been prepared for.
A burning. Starting in my stomach, I think. I can't be sure as it spread so fast; to my chest, and then my face. And my mind jumped suddenly to all those stories of spontaneous combustion I'd heard about in grade school. The classroom arguements as to fact of stories. And I thought, Is this what it feels like? Just before it happens?
Will these internal flames burst free? Will they engulf my hair and flesh as they have my blood? My brain?
Will they consume me? Leave me to a pile of ash on smoldering upholstery?
It never happened, in case your wondering.
It faded as I entered the greenhouse. As everything fades there. No, it's not accurate. There is much growth. But not for that. Not there,
I am a water bearer, so the stars tell me. Well, not the stars. Rather, the people who interpret them.
The stars do not speak to me. They sing. In vibrating waves of photonic matter. They've never personally regailed me with tails of mermen pouring jugs of precious H2O. But perhaps my ears are not open enough.
(Is it sea water, I wonder, or fresh? Ive not heard anything either way.)
Water bound as I'm said to be, it is fire that entices me. That erratic flicker of searing heat preaches to me.
"You can never be completely lost. You are in here, somewhere. At least partly.
Watch, wait, listen , be still.", it orders me. Its voice calming, commanding.
"In my glow you can find your center".
And I can.
Whether above or below, always slightly to the left.
Cluck-ing Away
Im getting that itch to move again.
It's one of those really annoying ones in the back of the throat. You know, you can't quite reach it with your tongue, but you try anyway. Forcing out a barroge of "Click, cluck, clakin" -ing noises you can only assume rival a Khoisan mating ritual...
Sure, you can try some old timey methods. You can drink pepper water, eat pineapple, or stand on your head and gargle.
I think maybe that last one is for hiccups.
But it's equally as effective. Which is to say, not at all.
The frustration, of course, lies mainly in the futile attempts to relieve.
It's one of those really annoying ones in the back of the throat. You know, you can't quite reach it with your tongue, but you try anyway. Forcing out a barroge of "Click, cluck, clakin" -ing noises you can only assume rival a Khoisan mating ritual...
Sure, you can try some old timey methods. You can drink pepper water, eat pineapple, or stand on your head and gargle.
I think maybe that last one is for hiccups.
But it's equally as effective. Which is to say, not at all.
The frustration, of course, lies mainly in the futile attempts to relieve.
Combustive
It's only rising. I search for answers, but find only more questions.
What are these faces around me? Why are these eyes empty? Blank. They startle my senses. Who is this stranger in the glass? This reflection of a half-self.
Void. Uncertain. Unknowing. Or knowing, rather, of all they don't know.
A battle of wanting. A slaughter. A desperate clutching of things once certain. Or maybe not. Maybe never. or maybe always. Then again... always until now.
Laughter reaches me, it is faded, dark. Far away. Is it me? I cannot feel my words.
I ache for combustion. Deliver unto me the wrath of exposure.
What are these faces around me? Why are these eyes empty? Blank. They startle my senses. Who is this stranger in the glass? This reflection of a half-self.
Void. Uncertain. Unknowing. Or knowing, rather, of all they don't know.
A battle of wanting. A slaughter. A desperate clutching of things once certain. Or maybe not. Maybe never. or maybe always. Then again... always until now.
Laughter reaches me, it is faded, dark. Far away. Is it me? I cannot feel my words.
I ache for combustion. Deliver unto me the wrath of exposure.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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