Friday, May 28, 2010


I'm updating to say that I'm not sure when I'll be able to update next, although I hope it to be soon.  I'm only a couple of hours away from officially owning the van I came out to see.  It's been a bumpy ride, but that just makes the smooth sailing onward that much more enjoyable.  :)  I still need to figure out all the 'legal' stuff, like registration and so forth.  I'll be heading straight home, maybe a layover in Cleveland since I'll be passing through anyways.  And Ohio has the lowest gas prices in the country, so I'm going to try and keep the tank as full as possible through that state.

The van has a good amount of 'human' space, but I'm so worried about what I'm gonna do with all my books!!  It's going to be a good summer of configuring and rearranging, that's for sure.  I am seriously thinking of moving my stuff into storage and subletting my room to save that much more in rent/bills.  So much to figure out!  I hope Drusilla and Penelope will be happy, I can't wait to see them again.

Monday, May 24, 2010

The Tiger Has Landed

And boy is she tired.  But what a great ride!  I'll update a bit more tomorrow, but I'm currently in Clearfield, PA, sitting in what is probably the most beautiful bedroom I've ever been in.  And I was in the van for all of five minutes under the cover of darkness and I'm so excited to thoroughly check it out tomorrow.

For now I need to make a sleepy-time playlist and drift off before the third song even starts, as I've been up around 36 hours or so I think.  I wish there was a designated B&B cat wandering about to cuddle with, I miss Drusilla already.

Punk kitty!  Cats with mohawks kick all the ass.

Consummation Approaches!!!

Or, one phase of consummation anyways.

I scored a ride to PA that leaves, oh, in about a freakin' hour.  Holy shit.  :)

Van or no van, I need to travel a bit.  And PA has some beautiful wilderness that I'd love to explore.  The weather is supposed to be nice (unfortunately about 20 degrees cooler at night than CHI) so that makes packing light easier. 

I wonder what the people in PA are like.  I sincerely hope I run into this guy:

Sunday, May 23, 2010


You're wrong
You're wrong for me

But your hands help me forget

And nothing takes me like your kiss

You're wrong

You're wrong for me

But your hands help me forget

And nothing breaks me like your lick

I feel no shame for what I am

Here's where I've come
Here's where I'll stand

Take me again

Hurt me again
Kiss me again
And lick me again... again

You're wrong...

You're wrong for me

-The Flir, "Lick" 

Friday, May 21, 2010

O! What A Dream It Was

I know I'll never be beautiful
but you kissed me once, in the sun
I know I'll never be loveable
but you made me think I was wrong

and you say: "it doesn't matter,"

but I want to scream: "it does!"
you made our little dream shatter
but oh, what a dream it was

I could've just run away with you

but you didn't want me along
I spent my one happy day with you
but when I woke up, you were gone

and I always knew you were faking

the little moon-beam that was us
and I wish I'd never awakened
and lived in a dream because 

oh, what a dream it was

Plans Update

Last week my 'temp' job that I've been at for over a year 'ended', and it couldn't have come at a better time.  Granted I was (foolishly) counting on at least 2 more weeks or so worth of work, I've done nothing for the past 2 weeks but sit at my desk writing and staring at my computer thinking about all of the other things I should/could be accomplishing instead.  So it is that I now breathe freedom.

I have most likely found a ride out to PA to look at the van at the end of next week.  The timing is a little off as I'll arrive at midnight on Friday, but I can't beat the price of what could essentially be a free trip.  I hate the feeling of being on a set budget.  I'll most likely start looking for a part-time job next month so I don't feel so suffocated.

I took a poi lesson that went very well but I must admit I haven't practiced much since then.  I am still working on that whole 'Solve et Coagula' situation, and the distraction is still overbearing.  The loss of physical intimacy weighs heavily as well, as I operate exponentially better when I have that release.  And while I'm at no loss for options...  well, I don't really feel like writing paragraphs about the same old shit again.

I have been writing so much lately, all sorts of things... thoughts, poems, conversations, memories, stories, characters, inspirations, one sentences, secrets, observations.  I have so much to communicate but I fee like none of it matters.  Nothing in the world is unique; everything is plagiarized, even the writings of others I admire.  I write or think something and find it expressed infinitely more poetically and articulately in a random book.  I suppose the more I write the better I will become at stumbling upon the words I feel are necessary to accurately express what it is I'm trying to, but until then I am stuck within this swirl of creation and left feeling that it has not yet reached it's potential.

The reason I still find myself posting and giving away these fragments is not only because I need to release them, but also because, on the off-chance that anyone else were to ever read this novel of derailment-nonsense I've created, perhaps they can take these ideas and fragments and build upon them to their whole, and make them worthy of publishing.  I've read so much that I have felt, experienced, or written myself, that nothing really inspires me anymore; it's all just copycat.

Albert Einstein said, "The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources."  How can you hide the world, or your very existence?

At the end of the day, “It is better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation.”  ~ Herman Melville

Aspiration To Consummation

My dreams fucked and in the steamy fog of sweat and lovescent lingering in the air was born aspiration.  I captured it's essence in an alchemist's flask and have spent my life experimenting, decomposing and rebuilding it's elements.  Many times have I smashed my entire laboratory, burning all my research notes.  Baptism.  Return to the beginning.  I've created many monsters that needed decimation.  I've been inundated with pyrite and cubic zirconia, searching for gold and diamonds within.  I've given countless secrets to assistants that come and go, watching them from afar create beauty and destruction alike.

I'm swimming in my aspiration, making my way towards consummation.  Burning bridges and jumping headfirst into those ravines to trek across to the other side and climb those steep mountains with no safety harness or ropes.  I've twisted my carabiners into handcuffs of perfect wrist size.

I only wash out my eyes with tears, but I haven't cried enough to cleanse this blood off my hands.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

I'm Grateful...

~That I used to write "It can't rain all the time" across my wrist to remind myself, no matter how emo that seems.

~That I only remember the feeling of his hand over my mouth instead of him being inside of me.

~That I find inspiration and beauty in a fleck of dust floating in the air, even if my sensitivity to my existence tortures me most of the time.

~For every ounce of pain I've ever endured that has made me who I am today.

~That I was able to love you as deeply, truly, and blissfully as I did (and still do, for that time).

~That I realized while typing the above sentence that the words 'did' & 'do' separated by a backslash '/' looks like the word "dildo" and I am juvenile enough to laugh, even with a copy of Plato next to me.  It also gives the sentence a whole new meaning, using 'dildo' as a verb.  :D

~That I am fortunate enough to have a bright flame inside of me that kept me convinced that all the horrid things my mother used to tell me on a daily basis were untrue and a reflection of what was wrong with her.

~That I've been blessed with a body that generally works the way it should even if my health isn't perfect overall.

~That although I checked the message an hour later, was 50 miles away & it was the middle of winter I was able to make it to the hospital with less than 15 minutes before he died.

~That even though it felt like I never got what I wanted, it must've been what I needed.

~That a good portion of my life has been wasted on things like standing in the cereal aisle for ten minutes trying to pick the Colossal Crunch bag with the highest crunchberry-to-yellow square ratio.

~That I am wise enough not to be reckless, but brave enough to take risks.

~For learning how to let the fuck go.  Just let - fucking - go!  

~That my life is truly that of a rockstar, with jaw-dropping moments that put all the movies and books and fiction to shame - and I haven't even begun yet.  :)

~That, up to this point, I've narrowly avoided obliteration, like a fly trying to tauntingly high-five each of the spider's legs while dancing through the spaces of it's web.

~That I am overwhelmed by appreciation and awe more than I probably deserve to be.

I can't see the end of me
My whole expanse I cannot see
I formulate infinity
and store it deep inside of me

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Tsunami Bomb

Woke up this morning
The light came in just right with the rain
Thunder in the distance, we counted how far away
Watched the people
Acted like we knew what they were up to
They could never have as much fun as we do together
Today was the best day
I realized what I wanted to say:
'Come what may, I'll be there for you'
Stayed up till sunrise-
No big surprise, it's a marathon
I might be gone soon, but please believe I hold you up to the highest degree.

Memories From Kindergarten

I spoke like a Southern Belle and thought Anthony Kiedis was the most beautiful person alive because he had long brown hair, just like me:

I remember so much from my time spent in Nashville.  Here's some more randomness:

~We had a puppy named Bandit we had to give away because we couldn't afford to feed him and a turtle that was rescued from the highway who remained nameless, and our next door neighbor built racecars literally from the wires up in his garage.

~That same neighbor had a big white dog named Bo, and on the other side of our house the neighbor (who is a family friend to this day) had a little black poodle named Peppy (for pepper).  I also loved to play with daddy long leg spiders and I had no fear of them.  I miss that feeling.

~One day I was sitting in my backyard leaning against Bo, wearing pants and a black sweatshirt.  Peppy must've been jealous, because he trotted over and before I knew what was going on, started peeing all over my shoulder!  (And thus began the long list of males who have tried in some way or another to mark me as their territory.)

~My teacher's name was Mrs. Finney, and she was one of the best teachers I've ever had.  We had a mini house in our classroom that was proportionate to our little 5yr old bodies, complete with a kitchen and bedrooms, and 2 kids at a time could go up on the fenced in 'roof'.  So cool.

~I got paddled in the Principal's office after I asked the teacher's aid for her assistance in opening my milk carton and when she handed it back to me, I stuck my tongue out at her for no good reason.  To this day, I still have no idea why I did that, and I still feel bad about it.

~I was so scared of that paddling I almost cried (being used to my mother's variety), and then they barely touched me.  I remember the school officials looking at me sternly asking if I'd learned my lesson, and all I really wanted to do was raise my eyebrows and give them a look of WTF and ask, "Is that it?  Really?"  But I knew better, even then.

~I saw ice skating on TV once and thought it looked like so much fun that I improvised and put an entire stick of butter under each foot (with my socks on so it'd cling better) and proceeded to slide my way around our linoleum kitchen.  Yeah, that only happened once...

~I taught myself the alphabet with those colorful letter refrigerator magnets.  Those magnets rule.

~My mother tried to force me to watch Sesame Street, which I loathed.  It was so boring!!  I get it, the letter of the day is frickin' "H".  My favorite show was MacGyver, and when my mother left the room I'd change the channel, every time.  Finally she just gave up, as she didn't want to sit there and watch Sesame Street either.  And I can honestly say that Mac taught me infinitely more than the 'Street ever could.

~My brother lit the chair I was sitting on on fire and frantically beat it out with the broom while I watched TV, assuring me the entire time nothing was happening and everything was fine.  He almost got away with it until my mother noticed the broom was singed and I put it all together to save myself the ass beating (as of course Bro was claiming innocence) - I said to check the chair and sure enough there was a huge hole on the bottom. 

~My brother learned how to program our VCR to record shows because the New Kids On The Block cartoon was on every day when we wanted to go outside and play instead.

~Madonna scared the crap out of me with her pointy bra, slapping her dancers around.  Even though I could see her hand was a foot above their faces, I didn't know why this crazy lady was being so mean.

~A combination of Who Framed Roger Rabbit & a Mickey Mouse book provided me with a nightmare I still clearly remember to this day.  In the morning when my bro came to wake me up for cartoons I made him check under my bed, and then still insisted he lift me off my bed and carry me clear out of my room before setting me down.

~I had my first lucid dream when I was approx. 3-4years old.  I was being chased by a fuzzy blue 'monster' in my daycare and learned if I flew I went faster than if I ran, so I consciously started jump-flying.  I had a lot of motivation as every time the 'monster' caught me it caused that weird tickling feeling that only dreams can give you.

Monday, May 17, 2010

The Devil's In The Details

It's those details you have to watch; the Devil's in them after all.  Aren't we supposed to be looking for Jesus instead?  We're always asked if we've found him yet.  But maybe the wolf wears sheep's clothing because it's the only size that fits, and he kinda likes the discomfort of itchy wool.  Keeps him on his toes.  Your hands cannot become idle evil playthings if they're always scratching.

I'm smelling cheap drugstore perfume, the kind your aunt's car smelled like the few times you were in it as a kid.  Usually this part of the apartment smells like cat urine from the last tenant's felines who assaulted every corner with their bladder emissions.  Wherever they are now I hope the roaches hitched a ride with them and the cats have clean and plentiful litter-boxes to excrete in to their content.

Today feels like one of those days when the birds chirp louder than normal to try and make up for the gray atmosphere.  "Listen, it's a beautiful day outside!"  It's a futile attempt; their sound does not create enough warmth.  Best to hole up in a cafe downtown and imagine falling in love with every stranger that happens through the door.  They'll never know the adventure they're missing if only they'd strike up a conversation with the girl just a few tables away (yes, they must do the introductions, as one must be proactive in love, and not seem desperate.  Somehow I seem to manage the former and fall victim to the latter, but not with equal panache).

Too concerned with the latte of the moment, they'll leave or perhaps even sit nearby, unaware of the Parisian cafe you've inhabited with them in your mind,  a warm breeze over the sunny sidewalk and smiling the stars right out of your eyes over Italian biscotti.  You better check and make sure you even like biscotti first... Not that it would really matter.  Your distrustful nature would glare off anyone who actually tried to strike up congenial banter anyway, as you can never quite tell what one's intentions are.  No, I am not done with my copy of the RedEye, thank you very much, and I'd quite appreciate it if you would stop trying to seduce me into thinking you are the One only to dramatically break my heart in the future.  Yes, I know your ways.  Can't fool me with your simple casual social politeness.

But that cafe in Paris.... tell me again the correct way to pronounce it... you were always better at that sort of thing.  I'm good at remembering the words, but you know how to say them.  It's fortunate that we finish each other's sentences... here, finish this biscotti too.  Turns out I don't like it very much after all.

My Symphony (And A Random Poem)

"To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart; to study hard; to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, await occasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common--this is my symphony."   - William Henry Channing, 1810 - 1884

5-17-10 1:12am
Hope holds that my Death goes by the name of Bella
My namesake of Rose freeing itself from it's sobriquetical shackles
And attributing itself instead to the scent of my decay
Whilst surrounded blasphemously by Lilies of
The Tiger variety, punctuating those pure white Stargazers
That instructs them with their very presence 
This Tiger will undoubtedly be Stargazing 
Endurance of knowledge and wisdom eternally sought after
Even in Death
Even in Death...
Nine lives renewed to pounce on cosmic petals
Don't you know I always land on my feet?

Sunday, May 16, 2010

R.I.P. Dio

Ronnie James Dio died today from stomach cancer at the age of 67.
(Click text for Tribune article and a link to a video of Dio explaining the "Devil Horns").

R.I.P.  \m/     \m/

Too Much (Passionate Paradox Be My Name)

It is now almost 4pm and I have yet to fall asleep (I am usually successful at falling asleep around 6 or 7am lately).  I napped for a couple of hours last night and was back up around 3am.  For the past, oh, 7 hours or so, I've been too out of it to really concentrate on anything I need to, yet I cannot fall asleep.  Too many thoughts, too many emotions, too many anxieties, too many options, too much to learn and do and read and clean and sort out...  I am too much.  I feel too much.  I think too much.  I love too much.  I procrastinate too much.  I argue too much. 

I am:
Too much.
Too much.
Too much.
Too fucking much!!!

I am a collection of contradiction.  A lonely heart only sees gray through the kaleidoscope.  Yet mine has maintained it's brilliance and persevered with it's polychromatic ways.  It always has and will.  This blog has been very mono-thematic as of late and I feel dismayed about that.  I feel dismayed about a lot of things, yet my happiness and excitement has stayed a constant undercurrent.  I still see the beauty in the banal, the adventure in examining a blade of grass, the wonder of beer suds doing their own thing there in my pint glass.  It is time to return to writing of other matters of my heart, mind, and being.

I am not sure if there are things about me I truly have to change or if it is just this one particular person's point of view that I am allowing to affect me so greatly.  I have been feeling that I am not giving over who I really am.  I picture it in my mind's eye as a transparency written with all I want to express and convey, but it's so messy and full of information and paradox that when my inner light shines through to cast it on the world around me, it does not match and my actions and communications fail to bring about the results that I am seeking.

I've said it before:  If eloquence and articulation fucked, I would not be it's perfectly formed baby - I'd be the love-stain on the sheet.

It amazes me how I can be told by one that I seem like a very unhappy person, and by another that the reason they were drawn to me was because of my optimism and positive radiance that is so rare in this world.  I know that everyone has a different perception, and that what one views as a defect another will regard as an asset; the divide between what's considered deviation to normalcy...  I truly doubt that with all I am there is someone out there that will understand how I occupy not only both ends of the spectrum but also all of the fractal dimensions in between.  And it seems that the more I try to explain myself in a clear and concise manner, the more confusing and negative I make it.  I turn my radiance into muck.

~Sigh~.  Well, as the proverb goes, "If you stand straight, do not fear a crooked shadow."

I need to take a step back (or five) from everything and really become clear.  Wash my transparency and perhaps re-write it with bullet points and different colors.  Or maybe I need to re-analyze how much I should be taking these words to heart; words from someone who berates me for eating meat yet doesn't take the time or care to learn that I eat mostly vegetarian when giving the choice, and that I can cook a plethora of amazing veg dishes while they have self-proclaimed to only be capable of pasta and omelets (really?).  Or unfairly judging me for "not taking care of [my]self" when they have no idea how much I've studied subjects such as nutrition, sleep patterns, psychology, exercise, and the like.

Dear Sir:  I'd like to buy you a "Jump to Conclusions" mat.  Because you'd be a natural at it.  Unfortunately I doubt you'd get past the first square you happen to land on.

And this is where logic goes out the window - because you can't control how your heart feels, or why, and for whatever damn reason my heart ~glows~ when I think about them (aka constantly).  But I suppose logic, time, and experience has a way of tempering that glow into cold, hardened steel.

To quote Damien Rice:
“I can’t take my mind off of you…till I find someone new..."

Friday, May 14, 2010

"You Bring The RAWR!"

Indeed I do.  Nothing like dancing until 4am with awesome friends, testing out my British accent with a group visiting from across the pond (and doing the "Elaine" dance on the sidewalk outside haha), and waxing philosophical on astrology and psychology until daybreak.  I'm looking forward to getting together soon with a conglomeration of all of our books and knowledge and deciphering ourselves and our universe.  :)

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Solve Et Coagula

It's walking in circles around the moment it all went wrong
That you get so dizzy you can't recall how it felt when you first starting realizing
       It could've been anything
And you forsake that beauty in the blinding glare of the present
But just as then, it is now, that
Beginnings promise possibility
An offer of the new, the unexplored, the unknown, fresh clean slate
I've grown weary of the rebuild
Perhaps because I hold only select blueprints
I can map each individual flaw to it's core, and explain with poker face
How it all came tumbling down
The magic lies in the middle chapters
The enduring, the holding of history's passage
Woven into the threads of your favorite clothes
The ones you wear to all of the shows
Embedded with the salival flecks of a thousand meaningful conversations
That you can't recall, but in searching solitude can evoke the essence
Of all that went right that night, and all that was agreed to be wrong with the world
Shared memory, locality; spilled drinks and foreign sweat covering
Becoming a part of this quilted landscape of all that was and could be
So I find myself yearning for the hope of promise anew
Endless possibility, a once again as and when my heart grew

I adore that we always end up talking for hours until dawn, even when we're both sleepy.  The intrusion of the sun's rays eventually reminds us there's a real world out there that we must tend to.  Schedules to keep, obligations to meet.  Paychecks to earn.  That unwelcome light that seems to break our communication, when really, it's in the silent moments that we say the most.

So I have resolved to try something new.  Drawing a new blueprint on the basis of Solve Et Coagula. 

"Solve" or "solutio" is the process of breaking down elements and "Coagula" is their coming back together.  In the process of transmuting base metal into gold (or arriving at the Philosopher's stone), this has both literal & hidden meaning. Esoterically, "solve" refers to the dissolving of hardened positions (& negative states of body and mind), thereby dissolving and vanishing negative energetic charge.  "Coagula" refers to the coagulation of those dispersed elements into a new, integrated whole, generally taking a better and more acceptable form.

The entirety of the process expresses transmutation from a base to a finer state, breaking something down to its basic elements, (which produces energy) that compels reconstitution in a purer form.

So begins the process of me breaking down our interactions and the energy between us and transmuting it into what will be a newer and hopefully better, stronger whole.   This will surely calm my heart and allow me to see us more objectively.  As far as the physical attraction goes?  Well, I'm pretty much fucked there.... unfortunately not literally.  I don't want another lover.  ~Sigh~.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Lachrymal Emanation

After a couple hours of writhing in a maelstrom of love-addled thoughts/emotions that all seem to be addicted to cocaine in their penchant of running zigzags through my brain and heart and back again incessantly, rearranging the cabinets of my inner being more times than I can count (is this the right way?  No, something's off... something's not right... Maybe like this?  It fits like this too... but not this way...tear it apart, start over again), I gave in to a lachrymal meditation and ended up writing down the following stream-of-consciousness between 5:30am - 5:47am this morning.

Free fall tears filtered morning's first light
A projection of you on my inward eye
Heart's petals wilted and fallen
To lie as a funeral shroud on the butterflies in my stomach
You once gave flight to . . . now decay
The open bloom rises love perfume
To trigger nostalgia's clamp on my throat
Everything aches . . . tired yet awake
A visit from reoccurance, dream of the sea
Weakness, not waves, she falls to her knees
Already drowning, curious as to if water feels the same -
           surely it can't hurt more
But she pulls back to breath; the salt so resembling your sweat
                (missing endearing element)
The waves' ghostly caress reminiscent of being in your bed
Necessity of immersion, dive in to prevent escape
Surrender force baptism, soul rejuvenate
Emerge into the future, and the beauty that awaits
Until the pin is again pulled on this heart-shaped grenade . . .

The latter part stems from a reoccurring theme that visits me in my times of overwrought distress.  When I get so overwhelmed I cannot breathe.  I see myself on a beach, dressed in white, a flowing summer dress perhaps...  I stare at the water for a time, then just slowly walk into the waves, and let myself fall.  And I feel the variant temperature swirl around me, although I am numb inside from emotional over-stimulation.  And I release, give in, relax, surrender.  Just enough to taste my soul as it exits through every pore of my flesh.  At the point where my soul replaces my aura, and I am cognizant of Death's intrusion within, I inhale life back into me, catching fire to all that was released and taken back.

I Need To Find My Happiness Again

I'm so tired I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open.  I've spent the last 4+hours trying to map out the best way to get to that van in PA without inconveniencing anyone but myself, for the cheapest price possible of course.  It SUCKS.  Is it really that hard, or am I truly that inept?  I always feel like I'm missing something, some other simpler and cheaper option, and as soon as I book something it will be revealed to me.  The irony that none of this would even be possible for me without the #1 tool I've used (the internet) is not lost on me.  It feels kind of ungrateful to be so frustrated.  But I've been low on energy and spirit for a couple of weeks now, so forgive me....

But I made it my goal today to stay focused on what I need and want to do.  As focused as I can be anyway.  This heartache is so intense, I don't understand it!  Tonight I was even able to remind myself of the attributes I want in a person and it still does nothing to quell this pining.  It's so hard for me to give up on something I never even got the chance to explore.  I know part of it is that I need to get over the ego part of it.  Thing is, I want to be irresistible to the one I'm with (or, want).  And I definitely do not feel that he feels that for me.  But is he truly irresistible to me, or am I just temptation's bitch as usual?  I feel it's a bit of both....  I'd like to lean towards the latter just so I didn't feel like such a goddamned fool.

I had a loooong conversation about the situation the other day with a friend as he was shopping, and he gave me some good perspective and insight.  It was one of those conversations where you wish the person being talked about could hear it.  At one point he laughed and said, "It sounds like you two are the perfect examples of two people just trying to live life."  I lamented how it all just sucked because we're so close, proximity-wise, that it's hard to just forget about them & move on.  And I can't even contemplate finding or being with another person when someone else is in my heart.  So I'm doomed to just be lonely and heartbroken in the best months of this damn city, the last summer I plan on spending here for who knows how long, with long warm nights and no one to share them with.

~Sigh~.  Is it so bad to want a summer of romance?  Even knowing that it will, it has to (for both of our sakes), end?  Or at the very least become much more difficult.  Fuck this.  I want someone that wants to fucking try, someone that sees me as worth it, and makes some damn effort.  Why am I always the more passionate and positive one???

I don't want it to end negatively either.  I don't want us to grow so distant the pain is cauterized into a purple bruise on my heart.  I don't want to look back on this as a "could've been", I want a "that part of my life".  Maybe it would be harder at summer's end to go our separate ways....  maybe we'd both be better off and stronger people because of it.  Maybe we find out a month into just being "us" that we kinda annoy each other too much and it's ok to just let it go early.  Even that would be better than this fucking silence and awkwardness.

And yes, as with everything I am looking at this situation through my own selfish little lens.  I know what I want and why.  I know a bit of how he's feeling and why it would be hard to go my way.  The silliest part is that I have no idea how he feels/thinks about me, but I get a very distinct impression that it's pretty nil compared.  That would suck, but it would be easy to understand.  Hey, sometimes there's just no spark, ya know?  My pride has a very easy time walking away from someone who doesn't want me.  Unfortunately I'm left to glare daggers into these conflicting messages, trying to carve out some meaning and truth.

And now for something adorable and nerdy to end this post with a smile and remind me of my fightin' spirit lol....

Sunday, May 9, 2010

"A Yeasty Muffin Can Really Ruin Your Whole Day"

This sketch had me in tears, literally.  Enjoy!

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Dear Midwest Weather: Fuck Off

~Deleted Post~  

I was feeling much like this:

^My Inner Rage At The Time Of Posting^

Screaming with no Gods to listen.  This was a post that should've stayed as a draft after the release of venting, but instead survived to tarnish my blog (that no one reads except me, and I read it all the time, srsly) for 10 whole days.  Blech.

If you missed it, you didn't miss much.  Whoever *you* are.  And I'm talking to myself again... oh boy.

Here I Go Again...

Once again I am terribly tired with less than an hour before I must leave for work, where I will stumble around in a semi-somnambulistic state.

I have decided that I am most likely not going to attend the 'Make a Hoop' (which has been canceled, actually) and 'Hooping 101' meet-up that was scheduled for tonight.  I asked to leave early at work and although it was not expressly approved I am sure it wouldn't be a big deal, as things have been slow lately.  I am a little disappointed about the meet-up as I really wanted to go and meet new people and skills, but scheduling, transportation, and this shitty Midwest weather are all teaming up against me.

In a way it's ok though.  I'll have a few hours after work to sleep (having slept last night from 7pm to midnight and subsequently staying awake the rest of the night/morning).  Then I'm off to Synergism, which is described on the venue's website as "Live Art, Yoga, Live Video Mixing, Belly Dancers, Healers, Body Painting, Black Light Glow Performances a Fashion Show & more!"  That exclamation point at the end really revs me up.  Oh boy!  See?  The excitement is so tangible with just the addition of a line over a dot.

I hope this event will be just as fun and propitious as similar gatherings in the past.  I am meeting up with at least one friend I met and I'm going to be contacting the others as well.

My brain is so dead right now.  I am not looking forward to biking 5 miles in this 30mph-wind, craptacular, 40-degree, rainy weather.  I'd even consider calling in were it not for the fact that my hours are already low and I promised my team that, as a reward for essentially just their doing their jobs correctly, we'd have a pizza party today ('cuz I'm fantabulous like that).  Which is going to run me a good $20 I don't really have and would rather not spend out of my pocket, but that's just how it goes at my job.  If there are any leftovers, they're totally mine, bitches.  I will have a massive pizza food-baby by the end of the day.

Speaking of babies, if by chance I ever do actually grow and expel one in my lifetime, it will lay it's sweet little head down in this, the most bitchinest crib I've ever seen.

My baby will not coo, it will growl.  That whole weak-neck thing newborns have?  That only facilitates my baby's head-banging abilities.  I won't have to lactate for my young one as only the blood of virgins and kittens will suffice in quenching it's never-ending thirst for the innocent.  And it's burp-ups will put Regan MacNeil to shame.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

7AM Beer & Chicken

If your last meal of the day occurs at a time when most of your society is having breakfast, is your meal also considered breakfast or an anachronistic 'midnight snack'?  Meh.  I'll just call it beer & fried chicken for simplicity's sake.  Either way I'll soon be traversing the oneiric realm.

I'm wondering how successful I will be at distracting myself from this latest abortion.  It's ok, my heart's been broken before you know.  It's like a bone fracture - it breaks easier now but I'm not sure how worried I need to be... after all, you just make an appointment with what/whoever your personal Dr. Remedy is and have it set back in place, then wait a few weeks for it to heal and voila!  New scar tissue as a reminder of all that never was or will be.  A little colder and less loving to the world.  And there's always the chance to wallow in reminiscence when the rain falls just right, bouncing down through the sound-waves of thunder as the sonance vibrates your bones and tickles your nostalgia to tears.

Snippet of An Overactive Mind

Do you ever get inspired by a place or object or thought, and your mind follows this thread of fancy, unraveling it into a fully-detailed experience?  This happens to me all the time.  Like, incessantly.  And with multiple occasions all at once.  My brain is a constant explosion of synapse that are the product of only my meaningless thoughts (or is that vice versa?), each possibility of an alternative outcome like a firework - detonating and then branching out into a hundred different arches that eventually fizzle into the ether, carried out in some other dimension.  Examples would include:  That bar you thought of going into but didn't, that group of strangers you biked past but didn't randomly stop and talk to just to see their reaction and the outcome, the answer to a question you could've given instead of the one you chose to and how the conversation might've gone, the different route home and what you might've encountered along the way, and on and on and on....

Sometimes they form as spoken-word stories inside my head accompanied by a visual, like watching a partially narrated movie.  This is one of the multitude I had tonight.

She walked into the dimly lit bar and noted the vacancy of the patron area; this was ideal.  Reaching back into her sling to pull out her crossword puzzle and wallet, she eyed the booths and decided on which one she would like to occupy.  Behind the bar a woman leaned against the cash register with her tattooed arms crossed, chatting with the male bartender who was busily drying mugs.  They both looked her way as she walked further into the establishment, and he spoke first.

"You're early."

She gazed around the deserted bar, the emptiness of which had just seconds ago seemed like a favorable attribute, and suddenly realized it's adverse potential as well, wondering if perhaps the bar was still closed at this hour.  The obvious question regarding operating hours came to mind; she decided to respond with humor.  "I didn't know I had an appointment."

He laughed.  "No no, it's just that usually the normal crowd doesn't start arriving until much later."

She cocked her head to the side and replied, "Well, I'm sure they'll follow their 'normal' routine and show up at the 'normal' time.  I'm not interested in such things."

He was intrigued.  She spoke with an assertive demurity that he felt from her energy and tone, but that he couldn't quite give description to in his mind.

"Well, what are you interested in?"  The question carried multiple connotations, as was his intention.  She caught on but answered simply:  "Beer."

(This picture has nothing to do with the above story, I just like it.)


Hey, I never said they were all exciting.  That's on you for assuming.  The part that fascinates me is what is left unanswered.  What happens from here?  I've always been good at starting things.  Finishing them?  Not so much.  I'm too indecisive for resolute conclusions.

"You don't have to be lonely."

Work let out early again tonight, and for once, thank god.  It was still warm outside and I didn't want to go home anyway; I wanted to seclude myself away from the other inhabitants of this city, preferably in a 'nature'-type of scenery, and drink the beers I had brought to work with me.

So where to go?  The park... the 'beach'... I settled on the Riverwalk after getting food nearby.  It was still concrete but it was fairly secluded, and the water was calming and entrancing with the city lights shining down upon it.  I choked down the food that I bought only because I know nourishment is a bodily necessity, as I've felt dizzy with nausea all day with a stomachache that still has not subsided.  My emotions greatly affect how I feel physically, to the point where if I get upset enough I will have flu-like symptoms with all of the manifestations of such an illness.  When I was younger and would start getting upset my mother would actually yell at me to "calm down or you'll make yourself sick again!"  I'd like to say I have more control over it now, but apparently not.

There were two men talking nearby and one passed me to leave after I'd been there for, oh, about a chugged beer's worth of time.  He stopped suddenly and, turning towards me, said the strangest thing:  "No one wants to be alone.  You don't have to be lonely."  I just smiled and nodded in acknowledgment; he'd tapped a nail into my spine and I didn't feel like discussing the best method of removing it; and he continued:  "No one wants to be lonely.  You're sitting here all by yourself, but you don't have to be alone if you don't want to be.  No one wants to be lonely."  I didn't say anything, not wanting to bother getting into a conversation with him whereby I'd be agreeing with him (as I did) and also explaining my desire for solitude at the moment, a la Rilke.  There's a difference between solitude and loneliness; right now I have both but only desire the former.

He wasn't crazy.  He wasn't looking for my spare change.  He was trying to.... I'm not sure... I don't think I looked that sad at the time, as I was feeling set and comfortable in my need for solitude.  Whatever positive thing he was trying to do, he was actually driving the stake further into my heart instead.  Was it a bit uplifting?  Sure, I suppose.  A nice reassurance from a stranger of the things I already knew but perhaps had momentarily forgotten.  But it was also a reminder of where I was at and why.  It's like the chorus of "The Naughty Little Rat Makes New Friends":

"The one you love loves you no more, 
doesn't matter who else loves you
doesn't matter who else loves you, 
the one you love loves you no more, 
doesn't matter who else might."

It's not that I'm unloved, it's that I can't have it, and it feels like the same thing right now.  (And I don't mean to assign 'love' to what another's feelings are either, it's just how it's worded.  I'd never be that presumptuous).

I smiled again and thanked him, waving him away.  He told me then that, at the very least, if I wanted company, I should've gone two Riverwalks over and I could've eaten with the Canadian geese, yes, they would've come right up and eaten with me!  Then he left, off to (I assume) impart his random 'wisdom' to other night-loving denizens.

With that I packed up, thinking the geese would appreciate the fries I was not going to eat, hoping they wouldn't mind a bit of ranch and hot peppers that fell on top.  I walked to the next Riverwalk and peered over the wide berth of the concrete rail and saw only a bum asleep on the bench below.  So I walk on to the next Riverwalk and repeat:  This time a bum (or perhaps just a miser, I really shouldn't be so quick to assume/judge) fishing the river, surrounded by buckets.  No geese.  I turn north to cross the bridge and head off but decide to swing around and try one more Riverwalk - third time's a charm, right?  Nope.  These geese (that I'd heard flying overhead whilst I ate) were nowhere to be found.  So I left the fries on a bench for whatever hungry soul might happen upon them and left.

Current mood:  Bluebells with a chance of hopeful

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Girl of A Million Sorrowful Smiles

The elevator gave a loud CLANK! on the way down, making the woman beside me jump nervously.  "I hate these things, there's always something wrong with them.  I don't trust them at all."  I smiled and nodded my agreement.  In my head a vision of the cable snapping and the car plummeting down to the depths of the building followed my heart's descent into the pit of my stomach, dissolved in the acid into a puddle of goo.  I wouldn't have cared.  I imagined myself just closing my eyes and letting the tears I was holding back out of social politeness just fall with complacent release.  I just need... release.

Your fucking postcard came today.  I knew it would, as soon as I touched my mailbox key, I fucking knew it was there.  After all, why wouldn't it be?  Sylvia Brown ain't got nothing on me.  Sheeiit.

 Amor fati....  I'm not sure I am capable of this.  Theoretically it sounds good, on paper, yes, very good.  But my heart cannot accept/except this....

My phone screams a short tone at me notifying me of a text; I immediately snatch it with hopes of....  But it's just an automated message from Sprint, offering me Nascar.  Fuck.  That's what I have to look forward to from now on?

I don't know how to be logical about that which is not.  Worse, I am now very suspicious of my heart, the one I've trusted in unconditionally my entire life.  Lately it would seem that it's been leading me astray, and I don't like it one bit. 

I feel like love gets close... like holding a burning match as the flame travels down the stick, almost reaching it's destination.... and so far, I end up getting burned, or the flame extinguishes itself as it's burning me but before I have the chance to light anything with it.  Either way I'm blistered.

I need solitude.  I need the countryside.  I have the strongest urge to just rent a car and drive until I see nothing but nature, park, and go sit in the middle of a goddamn field or forest clearing, and just be.  Be.  Be.  Be as completely alone as I feel.  I need to disappear.  Disappear completely.  Disappear within myself, baptize, and emerge as clear.  Transparent once again, but far from hollow.  Cleansed.  Take this cloudy, murky soul and just rinse till immaculate.  Free from all attachment that is keeping me in this constant cycle of suffering.  But how to unravel that which clings as stubborn as spider silk, knowing that even when it is wiped away the residue remains?

Monday, May 3, 2010

If Eloquence And Articulation Fucked,

, I would not be it's perfectly formed baby - I'd be the love-stain on the sheet.

Especially when I've stayed up all night until 8AM.  It's just that there's something beautiful in the way the morning sunlight glints off and shines through the leaves at the same time, creating reflection and shadow simultaneously.  I wanted to see that.

I was thinking last night about that scene in the movie Waking Life, with the unnamed man & woman in bed talking*.  I remember the first time I saw that movie (well, in it's entirety anyway), and that scene was instantly one of my favorites.  It was so beautiful.  I may edit this post later with a much longer, detailed explanation of all of this (or just write about it again in a later post), unfortunately for now I must get ready for work.

*The characters are actually from 2 other movies by the same director (the sequel to the first movie coming after WL was released, which always struck me as odd considering... well, I don't want to ruin anything if you ever actually see Before Sunrise/Sunset) - I have a really, really hard time watching either of those movies, the reason why will also be added with my future edit/post.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

"It's Like My Soul Holds A Song That Eternity Left Undone"

I slept far too late today, but that's ok, because I made new friends :)  I sincerely hope to dream with them again.

I need to leave soon, I don't want to be here when he returns.  I'd feel pathetic (yet amorously happy to gaze), & unfortunately I'm not entirely sure he'd be appreciative.

I don't think I'll ever be anyone's ideal.  I feel I'm the middle-ground between grace and grotesque.  I eschew these societal notions of 'feminine' that seem to define what the modern man (and woman) is seeking.  I need another anachronism that fits perfectly within my cog-work (and vice versa).  "You could be a 10, if only...."  If only you didn't subscribe to the rules that lower men have set for you, is that what you mean to say?  Because I know there's nothing wrong with me.  The attribute you place under 'con' is listed under many others' 'pro'.  But I digress, for now, for time's sake.

Side note:  I am infatuated with Shirley Manson.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

You Play Guitar So Well...

A poem from my past as I try (though not very hard) to concentrate on thoughts that are not forming into words in my head, as they're blocked by emotion (?) - well, mostly current stimuli (not negative).

Welcome to the first installment of what I will call:

Musings From the Fairy-Tales
(So named for the notebook used)
The majority of the stuff I write/wrote feels fragmented to me, although it could be just fine as is I suppose.  Whatever I post here is as far as I got at the time.  Perhaps in the future I will revisit and add on, however that seems unlikely as I was in a much different time/place/state of being then.


Dated:  6-20-2005
underwritten and overworded
you can taste the disappointment
     in the air -
           in her hair
bruised on the inside
     numb with regret
her heart beats so fast it freezes
you don't notice
     smoke your cigarette
          another shot
               another hit
                               ...fuck this
manufactured emotions
     telling her lies
empty chambers of your heart
     don't care when she cries
                       ...but she doesn't
her wrists have been slit for years
       do you know how to sew?


At the time I wrote this I was obsessed with a boy that would prove to immerse me in the most drama-filled month-and-a-half of my life, and I was feeling completely obsolete within him.  As it turned out I was just lost within him, mixed up with all the other girls he was playing in the same manner.  It was achingly heart-wrenching at the time, and now I just full-belly laugh and make fun of myself with my friend that I still have from that phase in my life.  Amazing how feelings can disperse and evolve...