in the heat of a moment. sweating nervously and appropriately in the midday desert sun. people are orange here. self-inflicted. feeling yourself disintegrate. but here is a happiness due to the wild and transient nature of the incident. here is a confidence and a feeling of power although I was quickly drained of my energy with the beating down sun and the negative responses to a few actions made. Invisible once again but feeling strong. the academic setting and the college-aged groups all about studying and forming relationships between people and all ares of academic interests, neglected or not, weaving them all into intricate and seamless webs, or schema. All of this will help you to understand the gravity of the world we live in. The amount of dedication necessary to become something worthwhile in this life. Something huge and attention-commanding with incredible things to say and people listen carefully. That would be a nice goal. To get people to listen carefully to your words in any age. Beautiful women, in an abundance... all smiles and sunshine. I double take and so do they. There is a confident smile and a joyous conversation waiting around each corner. I need to keep moving.
----
Write down about the general ambiance. Tempted to write for sound cannon instead.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
oct 16
great stampede moves on, closer to an enlightened state, refreshing and tasteful when it happens, feng shui and a sense of the placement of things. a person knowledgeable in areas of advanced spacial awareness though doesn't recognize his reflection in a mirror. Historian who doesn't vote. High school debate teams losing the fight against global politics and all of the world's highest leaders struggle to strangle one and other, considerate of each loss, a citizen, a landmark. Nothing raised taxes couldn't fix after awhile.
preserve some memories like sick-fuck taxidermy. to put on display to an agonized future self (me. here and now. I've saved it long enough now. goodbye.)
some things. let them die. let them disappear. no need to continue hording pictures that can cause total pain, full body pain, heart troubles and all excuses lost dramatically.
----
share the embarrassment of a mindless pop song in the face of all of the incredible lyrical possibilities expanding then contracting over and over again, repeating and finding synonyms and discovering the use of a thesaurus for times of need though the clarity can't be lost in the process, this transition from slobbering idiot to something more refined, but no one will smoke a cigar or feel any more privileged then the others, no difference will happen naturally, we will just fall apart in the hands of father time when asked the greatest questions, though I wish there to be something ridiculous, vague, and beautiful. Words can be beautiful in certain order and they fucking should be. No thought given to the effect of the words on the audience. Must concern yourself with thoughts on how the lyrics apply to yourself.
---
funny to find self wishing for further involvement in increasingly happy and enjoyable thoughts, falling victim to the beneficial effects of drugs I do not take advantage of. take them but don't read the prescription. that's not your name on the vial, the orange, white-capped, and child-proffed pill container that also keeps scented things fresh and without tainting the outside air much while sealed, which is an important reason and the inventor feels like a god-damned genius now, smoking his income in a lush valley somewhere...
waves of paranoia washing over the body like the drain off from a raining day, that downpour when all other substitutes crash backwards into a moving vehicle... red in the face with the kind of demented ideas that are not accepted wholesomely without outside evidence... feeling a kind of stupid guilt from certain paralysis, the stopping of heart beats and calling out poppy choruses, though an entrance into that world. again legitimate free-writing ruined by stressful outside influence. missing the mark entirely.
but when there is constantly the outside world infringing on this internal dialogue all I can think to do is write. as if writing will get me an ambitious art project done. I feel an inadequacy at the necessary technological though I can just ask for help, needing to remove the right wires, I feel myself falling behind in terms of technological knowledge, gadgets and electronics. having a computer I can learn everything possible about anything or everything in the world. I must read and learn about all applicable things... freelance writing! selling bullshit on craigslist! bass! poetry! artwork! music news! the appalachian mountains! everything possible!
make it all happen technological. I approach with an irrational fear of the change in which we are headed (in my opinion inevitably) towards. Though if it is inevitable I must accept it for what it is. Enjoy the delicacies of today that I fear might be gone tomorrow. I may have to worry about that something or other in the future but this is the present, I am everything present tense. All the potential pasted in all moments, waiting outside with a coat for a ride to a secret dinner. the passion for knowledge and the fulfillment of my potential. considered in a diagram, traced out my body choppy like a chalk outline on a x-ray screen, there are colors changing and forming inside of the outline though a huge certain of space is empty, a dark void. the colors and ideas fluctuate inside and also cross outside of the choppy lines, open to ideas entering and existing in great rapid flurries of motion, though the body can handle and even more intense... a deeper wavelength of disturbance in the levels, all sparkling and glimmering, like life crystals... more of them are out there and available to add to my immediate vicinity... each of us with a bubble of potential because despite my naive remarks there are in FACT things in life that I will never encounter, nor have the chance to... I'm mean I doubt at this point I'll ever become a rugby player so I must simply become the best at what I do currently. Find something to love and stick with it because others, searching endlessly, may never have the opportunity to experience that first simple love ever again.
preserve some memories like sick-fuck taxidermy. to put on display to an agonized future self (me. here and now. I've saved it long enough now. goodbye.)
some things. let them die. let them disappear. no need to continue hording pictures that can cause total pain, full body pain, heart troubles and all excuses lost dramatically.
----
share the embarrassment of a mindless pop song in the face of all of the incredible lyrical possibilities expanding then contracting over and over again, repeating and finding synonyms and discovering the use of a thesaurus for times of need though the clarity can't be lost in the process, this transition from slobbering idiot to something more refined, but no one will smoke a cigar or feel any more privileged then the others, no difference will happen naturally, we will just fall apart in the hands of father time when asked the greatest questions, though I wish there to be something ridiculous, vague, and beautiful. Words can be beautiful in certain order and they fucking should be. No thought given to the effect of the words on the audience. Must concern yourself with thoughts on how the lyrics apply to yourself.
---
funny to find self wishing for further involvement in increasingly happy and enjoyable thoughts, falling victim to the beneficial effects of drugs I do not take advantage of. take them but don't read the prescription. that's not your name on the vial, the orange, white-capped, and child-proffed pill container that also keeps scented things fresh and without tainting the outside air much while sealed, which is an important reason and the inventor feels like a god-damned genius now, smoking his income in a lush valley somewhere...
waves of paranoia washing over the body like the drain off from a raining day, that downpour when all other substitutes crash backwards into a moving vehicle... red in the face with the kind of demented ideas that are not accepted wholesomely without outside evidence... feeling a kind of stupid guilt from certain paralysis, the stopping of heart beats and calling out poppy choruses, though an entrance into that world. again legitimate free-writing ruined by stressful outside influence. missing the mark entirely.
but when there is constantly the outside world infringing on this internal dialogue all I can think to do is write. as if writing will get me an ambitious art project done. I feel an inadequacy at the necessary technological though I can just ask for help, needing to remove the right wires, I feel myself falling behind in terms of technological knowledge, gadgets and electronics. having a computer I can learn everything possible about anything or everything in the world. I must read and learn about all applicable things... freelance writing! selling bullshit on craigslist! bass! poetry! artwork! music news! the appalachian mountains! everything possible!
make it all happen technological. I approach with an irrational fear of the change in which we are headed (in my opinion inevitably) towards. Though if it is inevitable I must accept it for what it is. Enjoy the delicacies of today that I fear might be gone tomorrow. I may have to worry about that something or other in the future but this is the present, I am everything present tense. All the potential pasted in all moments, waiting outside with a coat for a ride to a secret dinner. the passion for knowledge and the fulfillment of my potential. considered in a diagram, traced out my body choppy like a chalk outline on a x-ray screen, there are colors changing and forming inside of the outline though a huge certain of space is empty, a dark void. the colors and ideas fluctuate inside and also cross outside of the choppy lines, open to ideas entering and existing in great rapid flurries of motion, though the body can handle and even more intense... a deeper wavelength of disturbance in the levels, all sparkling and glimmering, like life crystals... more of them are out there and available to add to my immediate vicinity... each of us with a bubble of potential because despite my naive remarks there are in FACT things in life that I will never encounter, nor have the chance to... I'm mean I doubt at this point I'll ever become a rugby player so I must simply become the best at what I do currently. Find something to love and stick with it because others, searching endlessly, may never have the opportunity to experience that first simple love ever again.
Monday, October 15, 2012
oct 15
We are made of stars, that central level of connectivity with the rest of the universe, looking up into the bright shining M of the body of cassiopeia, her curves, her beauty but then arrogance and vanity... passion of a rookie yet poised like a veteran... not only to know the names of all 88 but to know the mythology behind them all, the reason for the supposed shapes and the way of communicating in case of comet or meteor, a science in the face of pure belief systems, that impurity and the lab coat whiteness and sterility of hospital life... thank that refreshing night air for gentle invasion of the lungs to spread throughout my body an acute happiness, that self-awareness in the dark street, warming up the body, breathing harder than a resting heart rate, laying down, snoring, pulse.. feeling the inside of me work wonderful with all questions, the deepest, thrown out in front of me like omens from a mystical hand, the answers, of course, not provided though a proximity to this total understanding is reached quietly, as if through a state of slumber, then sudden aching lucidity, the tall junipers reaching toward bright Jupiter, Orion points to it, wants it, chases after it, but only moves in small portions his kaleidoscopic body, heaving and lunging in some respects like a rorshach ink blot test, only we agreed as a society many thousands of years ago how the heavens would be leveled...
find the secret to life and to existence but have no one around to share it with in any conviction.. she was about to fully remove herself in able to gain the necessary objectivity to the essence of the universe, which is to say a state of nirvana, of ultimate good-feeling, sneaking around corridors rushing by the old questions asked and answered, remembered and rephrased for a new dialogue, the colorful sun glare and the flaring moon across a hardly broken ocean inlet, moving about slowly in majestic stillness, a knowledgeable stillness that promotes the ideas of taking it slow and steady, counting your blessings purely and simply in stoic consciousness... demonstrate that natural good will of your, the powerful grasping hands of prediction and intelligent banter, entering a state of late morning delirium at the thought of returning home and sleeping in that great down comfort, of lost days prior to restless pen-twirling in many high school classes, fully identified with and in secrets cahoots with the day-planners. (though this was restless pencil twirling in math class. eraser was necessary to cleanly trace out variable formulas.)
never let all of that awesome knowledge go to waste. share and be shared with. your motivation is rewarded with higher production of creativity in the face of such thoughtless waste. the daily thoughtless waste. the vegetation of us all. fulfill basic needs though there are such adventurous experiences, a seeking of passion, a vengeful and rebellious idea of breaking the status quo apart as if it were a paper doll, something fragile... smashing it all to pieces like a high way pile up, an afterburner, the glorious road-worn sunset. driving all of those extra exotic miles into a brand new experience, it all adds, it never detracts... One day alone could never subtract from the whole. It is a forward motion, a new centered understanding. a layer of paint added onto an already complicated and extensive painting. the canvas widening with each day in passing. colors re-forming and expanding with it. shades and hues of personality splashed in with breathless brush stroke, some of the paint covers up, but scrape away and the foundation forever remains.... like a memory, only certain concentrated chemicals can reduce this residue. They tear the paint from the canvas completely though it is required to burn through top layers prior and you would be a forgetful mother fucker at this point in time. In this section of the radius. The radar gun pointing pointed straight upward to capture the flight speed of a space shuttle, or the andromeda galaxy, just sleeping to survive, high above the perceived heavens and actually expanding each minute, the galaxy has nothing to do with politics in any format, the pigments and fragments of all that complex matter, we all share that basic plasma! a common plasma! we should never feel afraid though we are corrupted from honest goals to be greater connected! through art and truth in all shades of scattered glory.
----------------
11:00 pm
Fly through the desert like a bat into hell and wonder how and why I got there, an impulsive decision, but there can be no regret or turning back, something simple and sinful, letting hopes rise and rise and be surpassed even, all high considerations. Race towards this eminent vacation from a vacation but this time it will be a kind of fun that all of us can understand so quickly and easily. Some rekindling of fires and a new found positive personality, nothing could go wrong, the worst would be to be crawling through the streets once more, but it would never happen, consider this a wonderful lapse of justifiable thinking but in the end the progress toward goals will be completed regardless, double time it afterwards due to the serious nature of such a binge... but for the sake of fun and escape even moreseo I'd be willing to go anywhere, do anything, it is in this adventure where I can find true reason for myself and my position on this globe. This is what I want and why. Now with a working coffee maker perhaps I can work at the pace I wish to once more. Full irresponsible speed with no stop signs anywhere, only green lights and introspective moments between the worlds, the historical generosity and the glazed over eyes opening and closing like doors in a hotel/motel near a prostitute-populated street. Having no idea of a motivational speech. Is there any such displacement of emotions then a blank slate? Something a little rude and off-putting but I'm different god damn it. These insecure thoughts hold no water in the end, at the end of the day, the beginning of a spark, all-consuming. Wishing that choking hold kept up and out of insulted territory. Stomp on me! My dreams and ideals! But I'm wishing it all to come true. Nothing bad could ever happen again. With this mindset and this motivation the world in its entirety is possible and blossoming like a great flower. For all of the immediate things I may have thrown off-kilter, I apologize but my soul will not because I feel I need this trip to find something to return from. I need stories and dirty love. I need to fill my cup and seek that adventurous spirit throughout all pulsating embryos on a certain plane of existence. A higher plane of existence, a great quality, and a fine caliber person, of the right mind, calling the shots like a man in charge of his surroundings, all warping and bending on its own accord and free will to make way for the man's presence, simple and good-natured but there are huge contradictions in him if anyone actually looks that deep. But they don't and they won't. Be that all-powerful killing smile individual. Find a happy medium between all of the best personality traits and never allow anything other to occur. Seeing old friends and never feeling angry once. Something akin to full comfort, that silence is not uncomfortable. How have you been, my friend? My anxiety of productivity spikes again at the moment. Today is a prime example of how I do not want to deal with a day like this in the future. I love my life. There is nothing else to say that could erase that from me. I just sometimes feel myself lagging behind that awesome, idyllic, prototype of a human, racing out in front of me like a metal rabbit for racing dogs.. I am cast in his shadow, he laughs at my lacking attempt to catch up and to look in that future tense mirror to see myself turn into him. Or to find myself to have been him already and that the amount of effort that I put into life and the exertion of mind in typical daily situations, the thoughts, the dynamic, the progressive nature, the joyous for the exciting factors of life and the yes-saying to new experiences at every available opportunity. Missing the mark in certain senses but I am the one who is infinitely harder on myself than many others would ever be unless they were my basketball coach that I may never have. The proper technique for these deterministic goals. First off, had awful posture but now shifted into something more effective and less permanently damage. I can't worry about this prototype of a human because if I end up fucking up my spine I will know that I am not him. But something else. Something better in other senses.
Yellow teeth and curvature of the spine, memorize a dictionary, build a grandfather clock by hand, develop an acquired taste for everything, count every star in the sky and know all constellations, dirty fingernails, proof of work and productivity but also a sign of laziness and neglected hygiene, a singing voice like a golden shining god, the god of opportunity, he waits on the other side, where the grass is greener but drifts away through the other fence to the next yard once you traverse that first picket fence. Neatly chart off your land and separate it accurately from mine without any hesitation. It might have been a feeling of denial in the first instant of collision. All the memories of love or the lack of love and then analyzed through that red/blue lens to interpret the present. Glorious nosebleed. Letting the nature take over our childhood. This is a huge change and a necessary career choice though I've seen no physical money. Simple charity case items. Blowing the stacks into those small furnaces.
find the secret to life and to existence but have no one around to share it with in any conviction.. she was about to fully remove herself in able to gain the necessary objectivity to the essence of the universe, which is to say a state of nirvana, of ultimate good-feeling, sneaking around corridors rushing by the old questions asked and answered, remembered and rephrased for a new dialogue, the colorful sun glare and the flaring moon across a hardly broken ocean inlet, moving about slowly in majestic stillness, a knowledgeable stillness that promotes the ideas of taking it slow and steady, counting your blessings purely and simply in stoic consciousness... demonstrate that natural good will of your, the powerful grasping hands of prediction and intelligent banter, entering a state of late morning delirium at the thought of returning home and sleeping in that great down comfort, of lost days prior to restless pen-twirling in many high school classes, fully identified with and in secrets cahoots with the day-planners. (though this was restless pencil twirling in math class. eraser was necessary to cleanly trace out variable formulas.)
never let all of that awesome knowledge go to waste. share and be shared with. your motivation is rewarded with higher production of creativity in the face of such thoughtless waste. the daily thoughtless waste. the vegetation of us all. fulfill basic needs though there are such adventurous experiences, a seeking of passion, a vengeful and rebellious idea of breaking the status quo apart as if it were a paper doll, something fragile... smashing it all to pieces like a high way pile up, an afterburner, the glorious road-worn sunset. driving all of those extra exotic miles into a brand new experience, it all adds, it never detracts... One day alone could never subtract from the whole. It is a forward motion, a new centered understanding. a layer of paint added onto an already complicated and extensive painting. the canvas widening with each day in passing. colors re-forming and expanding with it. shades and hues of personality splashed in with breathless brush stroke, some of the paint covers up, but scrape away and the foundation forever remains.... like a memory, only certain concentrated chemicals can reduce this residue. They tear the paint from the canvas completely though it is required to burn through top layers prior and you would be a forgetful mother fucker at this point in time. In this section of the radius. The radar gun pointing pointed straight upward to capture the flight speed of a space shuttle, or the andromeda galaxy, just sleeping to survive, high above the perceived heavens and actually expanding each minute, the galaxy has nothing to do with politics in any format, the pigments and fragments of all that complex matter, we all share that basic plasma! a common plasma! we should never feel afraid though we are corrupted from honest goals to be greater connected! through art and truth in all shades of scattered glory.
----------------
11:00 pm
Fly through the desert like a bat into hell and wonder how and why I got there, an impulsive decision, but there can be no regret or turning back, something simple and sinful, letting hopes rise and rise and be surpassed even, all high considerations. Race towards this eminent vacation from a vacation but this time it will be a kind of fun that all of us can understand so quickly and easily. Some rekindling of fires and a new found positive personality, nothing could go wrong, the worst would be to be crawling through the streets once more, but it would never happen, consider this a wonderful lapse of justifiable thinking but in the end the progress toward goals will be completed regardless, double time it afterwards due to the serious nature of such a binge... but for the sake of fun and escape even moreseo I'd be willing to go anywhere, do anything, it is in this adventure where I can find true reason for myself and my position on this globe. This is what I want and why. Now with a working coffee maker perhaps I can work at the pace I wish to once more. Full irresponsible speed with no stop signs anywhere, only green lights and introspective moments between the worlds, the historical generosity and the glazed over eyes opening and closing like doors in a hotel/motel near a prostitute-populated street. Having no idea of a motivational speech. Is there any such displacement of emotions then a blank slate? Something a little rude and off-putting but I'm different god damn it. These insecure thoughts hold no water in the end, at the end of the day, the beginning of a spark, all-consuming. Wishing that choking hold kept up and out of insulted territory. Stomp on me! My dreams and ideals! But I'm wishing it all to come true. Nothing bad could ever happen again. With this mindset and this motivation the world in its entirety is possible and blossoming like a great flower. For all of the immediate things I may have thrown off-kilter, I apologize but my soul will not because I feel I need this trip to find something to return from. I need stories and dirty love. I need to fill my cup and seek that adventurous spirit throughout all pulsating embryos on a certain plane of existence. A higher plane of existence, a great quality, and a fine caliber person, of the right mind, calling the shots like a man in charge of his surroundings, all warping and bending on its own accord and free will to make way for the man's presence, simple and good-natured but there are huge contradictions in him if anyone actually looks that deep. But they don't and they won't. Be that all-powerful killing smile individual. Find a happy medium between all of the best personality traits and never allow anything other to occur. Seeing old friends and never feeling angry once. Something akin to full comfort, that silence is not uncomfortable. How have you been, my friend? My anxiety of productivity spikes again at the moment. Today is a prime example of how I do not want to deal with a day like this in the future. I love my life. There is nothing else to say that could erase that from me. I just sometimes feel myself lagging behind that awesome, idyllic, prototype of a human, racing out in front of me like a metal rabbit for racing dogs.. I am cast in his shadow, he laughs at my lacking attempt to catch up and to look in that future tense mirror to see myself turn into him. Or to find myself to have been him already and that the amount of effort that I put into life and the exertion of mind in typical daily situations, the thoughts, the dynamic, the progressive nature, the joyous for the exciting factors of life and the yes-saying to new experiences at every available opportunity. Missing the mark in certain senses but I am the one who is infinitely harder on myself than many others would ever be unless they were my basketball coach that I may never have. The proper technique for these deterministic goals. First off, had awful posture but now shifted into something more effective and less permanently damage. I can't worry about this prototype of a human because if I end up fucking up my spine I will know that I am not him. But something else. Something better in other senses.
Yellow teeth and curvature of the spine, memorize a dictionary, build a grandfather clock by hand, develop an acquired taste for everything, count every star in the sky and know all constellations, dirty fingernails, proof of work and productivity but also a sign of laziness and neglected hygiene, a singing voice like a golden shining god, the god of opportunity, he waits on the other side, where the grass is greener but drifts away through the other fence to the next yard once you traverse that first picket fence. Neatly chart off your land and separate it accurately from mine without any hesitation. It might have been a feeling of denial in the first instant of collision. All the memories of love or the lack of love and then analyzed through that red/blue lens to interpret the present. Glorious nosebleed. Letting the nature take over our childhood. This is a huge change and a necessary career choice though I've seen no physical money. Simple charity case items. Blowing the stacks into those small furnaces.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
oct 14
stuffed full of a sudden paralytic sensibility, though the excitement of a home team victory flowing down from the north, earth shaking applause and the stadium erupts in drunken revelry, we all had little faith but the best offense versus the best defense is a decently matched up game, getting hyphy, feeling the drowned out sorrows of a congested freeway afterwards though everyone honking and yelling in joyous celebration of a team to root for. Fuck yeah! We say this collectively. Share the excitement, though usually it is something I care very little about, no idea if the mariners did anything remotely good this year, I only know that almost all players I once knew and appreciated have moved on to something or somewhere else, the sonics dead, though the beautiful city gathers some certain recognition in this new status. I never knew what to do with myself today. Finished a book. Doing laundry. exercise. spelling execution. excrement. excuses. extrapolate. had too much chicken for lunch. filled up the tank. returned the red box movie return. had a beer. might have another. for the hell of it. for the heaven of it. feeling the weight of big decisions weighing down on me. though it should never be that hard.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Oct 13
Test the flexibility of my new identification card. This is my all-access, no holds barred, courageous and infinite identity. The curiosity of a broken finger, we can never deny our powerful positions. Valiant fight against time itself and the violent, soul-ruining effects of a day-long over hang, something to peel that label off, all colorful and taut, something invisible otherwise, I might just look disheveled, like a dreamer, like someone lost in space for a moment, adrift and devoid of material possessions, an earth-bound realization that the money was never worth it. The essence is something deeper, the trees are much more knowledgeable about it than I.
Cigars and liquor, all of the subtle influences of a day dragging on behind us like a dying animal. Always honest, dressed to impressed, fluent a dagger through a cold heart, glorified resistance and violet afterglow. we are that spark, that sparkle of a falling flame, the arrow through the apple on our heads, the matching clothes for expensive little children, quietly finding out those small purposes, a reason behind everything...
Driving gently down a neighborhood, through twisted trees nearly embracing directly overhead, though these trees only grow up not out, dreaming blissfully about all of that green goodness, I came close to reverie. I can securely say that I was damned close to something. An idea I can never directly pinpoint. A realization, maybe a thought like none other. An original thought. A breeze scattering fallen leaves. I am alive. I am so fucking alive. It felt like a gasp. Like barely catching that invisible monster lurking in all small beautiful moments. A lighter than air feeling. I was weightless, instantly detached and fully involved in that dashing detail. Of course moments collide with one another and my reverie is interrupted by traffic lights, car alarms, fashion statements, cologne and perfume, cigars and liquor, all of everything... the trivial matters...
Motivation to elevate myself in order to keep moments like this alive in wild glory. I must remember all it is to be a curious creature in the depths of these strange and disastrous times. I can no longer feel disgusted by the world, more likely by the human nature plaguing the world, I must feel content and safe in the typical thoughts... no more disgust, replace that with awe and curiosity. An insatiable lust to try all do all and feel all. Something wonderful, aspiring to greatness. Loving everything and everybody equally. Feeling happy and satisfied. Caught off guard by brilliant simplicity. Distracted in equal parts by philosophical and comedic thoughts. Something sympathetic and self-aware. The awareness being all that matters. To be aware of all and to have a full grasp on what was once thought to never be able to grasp. something elusive. A new personality in the works. To become the greatest person in the world rather than an anti-social cave-dweller surrounded by broken bottles and scraping up resin to place in pipes to exit reality and to enter something less superficial. The way my brain works must always be so open and quick to laugh at myself. I can no longer be determined as a wasteful person or an asshole by any other name. Generally label me something incredible. Why aspire to anything other than personal perfection? Whiten those god damn teeth and look in the mirror now and again. This is a new world. You are not who you were. You can be whoever you want. Be it! There is joy in meaningful social interaction, in relationships developing and the indifference reduced to oblivion. Care and try to care wildly, with ultimate ambition to create beauty. To take beauty away without harming it for others! To watch sunsets on the beach. To count birds and police cars, witnessing a poor fool get arrested and the children all go back to school without any other thoughts beyond complaints. Understandable. The summer is a mystery. A playful oblivion to enter for awhile, to take the load off and to really find the meaning behind what it is to be a kid.
These revelations. I want more. I want it all.
Cigars and liquor, all of the subtle influences of a day dragging on behind us like a dying animal. Always honest, dressed to impressed, fluent a dagger through a cold heart, glorified resistance and violet afterglow. we are that spark, that sparkle of a falling flame, the arrow through the apple on our heads, the matching clothes for expensive little children, quietly finding out those small purposes, a reason behind everything...
Driving gently down a neighborhood, through twisted trees nearly embracing directly overhead, though these trees only grow up not out, dreaming blissfully about all of that green goodness, I came close to reverie. I can securely say that I was damned close to something. An idea I can never directly pinpoint. A realization, maybe a thought like none other. An original thought. A breeze scattering fallen leaves. I am alive. I am so fucking alive. It felt like a gasp. Like barely catching that invisible monster lurking in all small beautiful moments. A lighter than air feeling. I was weightless, instantly detached and fully involved in that dashing detail. Of course moments collide with one another and my reverie is interrupted by traffic lights, car alarms, fashion statements, cologne and perfume, cigars and liquor, all of everything... the trivial matters...
Motivation to elevate myself in order to keep moments like this alive in wild glory. I must remember all it is to be a curious creature in the depths of these strange and disastrous times. I can no longer feel disgusted by the world, more likely by the human nature plaguing the world, I must feel content and safe in the typical thoughts... no more disgust, replace that with awe and curiosity. An insatiable lust to try all do all and feel all. Something wonderful, aspiring to greatness. Loving everything and everybody equally. Feeling happy and satisfied. Caught off guard by brilliant simplicity. Distracted in equal parts by philosophical and comedic thoughts. Something sympathetic and self-aware. The awareness being all that matters. To be aware of all and to have a full grasp on what was once thought to never be able to grasp. something elusive. A new personality in the works. To become the greatest person in the world rather than an anti-social cave-dweller surrounded by broken bottles and scraping up resin to place in pipes to exit reality and to enter something less superficial. The way my brain works must always be so open and quick to laugh at myself. I can no longer be determined as a wasteful person or an asshole by any other name. Generally label me something incredible. Why aspire to anything other than personal perfection? Whiten those god damn teeth and look in the mirror now and again. This is a new world. You are not who you were. You can be whoever you want. Be it! There is joy in meaningful social interaction, in relationships developing and the indifference reduced to oblivion. Care and try to care wildly, with ultimate ambition to create beauty. To take beauty away without harming it for others! To watch sunsets on the beach. To count birds and police cars, witnessing a poor fool get arrested and the children all go back to school without any other thoughts beyond complaints. Understandable. The summer is a mystery. A playful oblivion to enter for awhile, to take the load off and to really find the meaning behind what it is to be a kid.
These revelations. I want more. I want it all.
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