“I only got myself
And this big old world
When I sip that cup of life
With my fingers curled
I don’t worry what road to take
I don’t have to think of that
Whatever I take is the road I make
It’s the road of life make no mistake, for me
Yeah, Abraham deLacy
O’Malley, the alley cat!”—Aristocats [fuck yeah!]
first a sweet sting. then slowly, with increasing speed, a dull burn aches your taste buds and hits the back of your mouth. it spreads, while taking it’s time, and meanders its way into the creavices of your mouth. nothing direct however, just a gentle, loving burn that fades ever so slowly. bitterness hits the tip of your tongue, makes you flick it this way and that to get it away. another bite and you are attacked by sweet, sweet sugar crystals, and the wildfire is fueled again. [crystallized ginger]
the nothingness taste of cream invades your senses. it isnt something you can taste, but it is more of something you can feel. it is ever present, like a mark, holding you at alert, but almost clogging your taste buds, it makes your mind a little bit misty, just trying to figure it out. a clean, fresh, cool taste sweeps in waves over your tongue. every movement in your mouth brings a new tide of flavor seeping in. long after the actual substance is gone, you can still feel the dull ice feeling against your soft palate. it doesnt quite tingle, it isnt that strong, but it feels cold. another dull creme taste fills your mouth. the new creme taste climaxs, and the rough taste of cocoa is quickly overcome by the fresh wave of mint. every breath you take is now complimented by a white rush of cold air into your palates. [oregon mint chocolates]
liquid escapes a hungry cup into the smooth purse of your lips. it falls sweetly into the cave of your bottom teeth, until it slowly disapears, leaving parting kisses. thats when the real flavor hits. at first you taste nothing but tempurate. cold, cold, cold, and then a familiar creme taste again. you quickly identify that as milk. now the spices slowly start to warm up your chilled taste buds. a dry, very full embodient of flavor comes to play. lucky for you, the solid cubes of ice and filling white milk calm the fire of spices and ease them, and yet they are still hungry. they grab and nip at your mouth, taking taste buds hostage as they demand more! thats where the sweet, calm embrace of sugar comes in. it eases the spices, rending them incapable of nothing but retreat. frightened buds gaze mercifully into the powerful presence of sugar, and it sloughs off a few grains, but only a few, for your buds to fight over. now a diminishing pang of sweet can be felt, and as quickly as it entered, it has left. you mouth no longer feels empty, but instead the milk comes into play again and pulls a smooth finish, until finally, the last bit of liquid has escaped. now you understand why the cup is so greedy. [an iced indian-chai tea, with milk and sugar. ]
aside from hearing, taste is one of my most treasured senses. as you can see i have a bit of a sweet-tooth. that and breakfast foods just about make my day.
i really, really, really love food. i could see this being a problem when my metabolism slows down, but for now, im trying to enjoy it to the fullest. every flavor, every texture is a new, exciting adventure. every new town means a plethora of new adventures, new species of tastes. and even at home, new mixtures and concoctions are available to “spice” up the meal [pun very much intended.] food/drink and taste can even be combined with other senses to make a mind blowing explosion. music and food reach the realm of indescribable. certain flavors have certain moods, and when matched with the correct song or genre, they meld together and become nothing short of greatness.
"Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity." ~Voltaire
finally home from oregon. i cant even remember how many days i spent there, as they all start to blend into one giant beach-hopping, dune crushing, food enjoying day. i’ve returned with many treasures, my most prized being fudges and chocolates from a very equisite shop up in bandon, best damn stuff i’ve ever had. my second most prized would be aggates, because before today, i’ve never found one, so that was pretty exciting. my memories rank third because besides finding special colored rocks, this trip was nothing new. just a reliving of past experiences and family time. i’ve realized i still dislike salt water, still suck at pool, still love oregon mint, still have a craving for fresh fish/chips and clam chowder, still get chilled by that sea breeze, and still hate long car rides.
all in all, guessing from the experiences caught, and sand shaken from my shoes, its good to travel, but even better to be home.
thank you cecilia for all your great comments. if i could i would respond. but damn tumblr doesnt let me do that, something about it being too difficult for me to leave a comment on my own post, or something on the god tier of dumbness like that. so this is in gratitude of everything you’ve said!
money is power. i like power. i like having the ability to make a decision. i like money. it makes me feel good. money = power. power = more control. more control = more decisions. more decisions = more control. more control = more power. more power = more money.
i like that equation.
but with all good things comes a sacrifice, and a danger. money, or making it, comes with the sacrifice of fun[unless your a lucky one who has fun making money, a most valuable trait indeed.] money also has many dangers. greed, jealousy, over spending, to list a few. i need to make sure to check myself, to see a potential purchase, and tell myself that i have lived without it, that i can live without it, and weigh its pros and cons. then, and only after that should anyone decide to buy something. even if it is something small, because it all adds up.
on the contrary of the contrary however, buy things that will enrich your experience. another thing i love is fudge. everytime i go to a foreign town, or to another state or even city, i look for a fudge shop, and i buy a fudge. it makes me feel good. it enriches my experience involving chocolate, fudge, and spending money. i like to buy things that make me feel better, make me feel more morally and consciously healthy. try it sometime. it feels great.
today i realized something that i should have realized a long time ago.
money is power.
i was in a shop in bandon, oregon, and i looked at a rack of potental buys, and i realized that i have power.
the last time i looked at this wall, i did not have money.
and now i look at it, and it shows me endless possibilities. the only thing i added to the equation is money. money brought me[or more like bought me =P] power. i have the power to buy anything on that wall, it no longer impedes my senses.
dead and dying bodies litter the beach. small bodies, empty, broken, crackle underneath your feet.
this place is full of the dead.
harsh battle cries are released from the birds of war. they hunt for living bodies, and will attack on sight. broken armor from underground warriors speckle the beach in a white mist. they are sharp, and break the skin. they also give a surprisingly pleasing crunch underfoot, similair to that of jumping on innocent, dry leaves. a look to the water only confirms what destruction has occured on the land. more and more bodies are being dragged to the beach. more and more and more are swept away, only to be replaced by fresh forms. gelatinous puddles, incapable of movement, glint the sun in your eye, and cause you to shudder with fear about the damage they could incur if they were alive.
a move to the softer sands uncovers more dead with every step. naturally grown weapons, missing legs and arms, and halves of bodies are buried in that sand that doesnt feel clean. something just isnt right about it. this places stinks of death.
the wind matches the atmosphere perfectly. it blows small granule rocks over the dead, buries and uncovers them simultaneously. it stings your feet, and makes it hard to see. without the protection of spun cotton and braided denim, one would survive nary a minute in these conditions. and if they were submerged into the water, they would never be seen again. this place is dangerous.
so many god damn commercials on TV! i dont ever watch it, so having it on vacations is like a treat, except it has the feel bad feeling afterward. there are so many damn commercials! do they think im retarded? i do not need to see the same thing over and over again in order to change my opinion. i need results. i need self experience. i need billy mays. i just need to watch my house. good night!
i feel that my communication is slowly dying. im becoming more attuned with where i am now, more involved in my activites. my long distance communication is suffering as a result. i give a little, i lose a little. not a good equation if you ask me.
but im having fun. and im re-experiencing everything i enjoyed as a child.
so time for me to get off of this, time to explore. but i forgot one thing,
i miss home. [not the actual place, but the idea, the people, and the interactions.]
while walking to a sacred place, i see a sign that says “did you know you are standing on an ancient dune?”
this creature is ancient, and i am a mere new visitor in its life span of thousands of years, even though i have been here too many times to count. i am a bacteria, a virus, a free radical, encroaching and disturbing its mighty sleep.
after a short walk, the sky becomes clear, free from the tangle and grip of the tree’s. it looks a happy blue, and is contrasted nicely with the tan hills that seem to go on forever.
i know this place. it looks just like it did years ago. it has the same grasses, the same divets. there is the big dune, over here you can see the high slope of another. i love this place.
and yet, it doesnt love me. sharp needles of sand, invisible, and only foreshadowed by strong gusts of wind, attack my body. keep your foot in a place for too long, and somehow the black particles in the sand stop and surround it. they are the recognition device for this ancient, massive creature. i am nothing near a familiar being. i am a free radical.
i have my protection however. thick denim pants hold off the needles from my soft legs, a black shit absorbs the sun, keeping me warm. unexfoilated skin cushions the blows of the sand, they are my forcefield. a dead thing, put to a very important use. [oxymoron?] a bandana protects my face, keeps me breathing, alive, and anonymous to this giant of a being. sun glasses also hide my identity, protect me from a neutral sun, and hold off the rays of wind blasts.
slowly, my family, my group, starts our trek. we have no idea where we are going, but we know that we are going, and memories will lead us to places of fun and enjoyment.
full of unjaded energy, we make our ways across the dunes. noticing the wind here, the steep fall into soft sand there. the grasses become more and more occuring. there is water around, and then, we see it. the oasis. the life giving center of this desert.
upon further examination, i find this oasis to be a relief and cover from the ever persistent immune response of the sand dunes. its water are clean, fresh, filtered by billions of sand crystals. it is cool, and yet comfortable. but we know we cant stay for long. the sand will find us. it always does.
the sand has a way of getting into everything. into shirts, pockets, jeans, underwear, backpacks, and packages. it spoils food and grits water. it seeps into electric devices, makes them creaky and cracky, and jams camera lids shut.
this is the attack from the dunes. this is the one thing you cannot escape.
my group moves on, having gotten our fill from the cool clear waters of the oasis, and goes to construct and play in the brown sugar sand at the base of dunes. thats right, brown sugar sand. wet sand, but not noticable soaked to the touch, just barely damp. golden brown in color, and of the consistenty of unsticky brown sugar. this is the life blood of play. its modable, cooling, and provides a nice cushion for your foot. we bask also in that for a while, until the wind becomes unbearable.
only now do i notice that my defenses are down. that my forcefield has run out of power. every gust brings an extreme sting. the rest have realized this also. were spent, we need to leave, before we are overrun. we make the trek back, exploiting every piece of shelter on the way. unsurprisingly even those dont block out the wind and the sand.
finally we make it to the last big dune, the exit. as i place my foot on the top, black sand surround my foot in a thin circle. the beheamoth knows im here. knows im an intrueder. knows that i am not welcome to this place of constant change.
i couldnt keep up. i need consistency, i need stability. i can’t change all the time. i like the feelings of being comfortable.
this giant dune however, feels otherwise. it is always changing. always keeping the frame, but always its surfaces are being wiped and rewritten. i look behind me to see my foot steps dissapear.
we need to leave.
upon our exit, i look back and take one last picture. i know that i will always be another pathogen to this place, but for me, this giant, this anceint beheamoth of dunes and billions of pieces of sand is a resort. a refuge. a place of reflection, and change. like a fever, i will be back, i will strike again. but i will have mutated, changed, and i will need to visit in order to become different, in order to survive the constatly changeing environment we live in. this dune is a sped up version of life, where everything is constantly in a state of change.
when i leave this place again, i will have become different, new, and reoriented. when i leave this place again, my new version will be a version of survival.
as much as i would like to believe it, this is no different from any other web-based communication site. the only difference here, as opposed to fb chat, is that you can show more than you would be comfortable with on something as instant, racey, and open as that. the intended audience here is all you want it to be. huge, or just one person. yet you can lay your traps around, you can play games, and hide behind a persona of madness and confusion
thats where [blank] comes into play.
as much as i wouldnt like to believe it, i have changed. undeveloped events are now coming to their climax’s. projects are being put on hold. [blank] is suffering. creativity is being choked out by experiences and events that occur outside of the tubes and wires of the internet, out of the subconscious. [blank] is suffering.
it has come to my attention now that decisions will soon need to be made. something that every one fears.
decisions are some of the scariest things out there. once you decide, there is no going back. you have nothing but the past and a what-if to help you see down the road not taken.
choices shape and orient your life, they are the push, and sometimes, they cause the pull. they are epic, and even the smallest decision can cause a catalyst of events that will forever shake your history, and forever send ripples into your future. [i do not have a fate. i do not have a destiny. i am not predestined]
if there is one thing i hate in this world, its the feelings of being disliked. future posts may explain why, but i just get illogically disappointed at myself when someone dislikes me. [which is funny, because i can very easily admit to not liking someone else] i also hate the feeling of being alone. i am quick to speak thoughts out loud in an empty house, and cherish the company of others extremely.
so that makes this week a bit of a mix up.
i went to a place, or rather an event, that is notorous for savagery. if you are not “in” then you will know it right away. i was not “in” this year.
like i stated before, anger is not something i feel very often.
but by the end of two days time, it filled me. as darkness set in, so did my fury, my rage. against everyone, anything. it was blunted by the fact that i knew this was going to happen, that i would not enjoy myself if certain events occured, and so i would have to prepare for it. but rage is rage, and it needs a striking point, and when presented one it strikes very quickly.
that point happened to be a very close friend.
he was egging it on however, trying to break me. “you rage, you lose” and for the love of god, i lost. i unleashed. and i lost again. i was defeated, by him, and by myself. the following humiliation, the following shame, was only comparable to made up feelings in pre graduation years.
i hated it. i hated the feeling of me angry. everything i had built up against it had been trickled away by a glacier of unpredicatable thought and attack.
other than this, i thoroughly enjoyed myself.
jumps off of rocks, my secret pleasure of climbing, and heights.
good times, and fires and food.
it was fun. it was a great day at the beach, with only a little shadowing of clouds.
that does not mean that i am terrible. that i am wrong.
and that doesnt mean that i cannot be surprised, because, believe me, i was.
not even in my dreams did i play that through.
every day a mystery unfolds, but it can’t always be like that.
humans are creatures of habit, new, surprising things, if they happened all the time, would not be a surprise at all. we need balance, we need a routine. this helps you adjust, helps you take care of the situation, modify to it, and cherish it.
do not fret when things become a frequent, when a similarity occurs. this is life, this is reality, checking in to make sure that your move into [removed] was okay, that you are adjusting alright.
this summer is not a thing to remember. it is a thing to enjoy. it is not a thing to dwell upon in far off times of solitude. it is a thing to grow, learn, and mature from. [this statement, in and of itself, is an oxymoron, one cannot learn without inflection and reflection. so remember, remember, remember, the events, the details, the feelings, and search every part of your soul as to why they happened and what you can take from it. i ask from you nothing more, and nothing less.]
[blank] changed my game-plan. and now my game-plan is changing [blank].
but i want this to continue. [break the mold, unlock the cage]
i know the structure too well, i know its bends and arches, its supports and planks, an engineers creation devoid of the beauty of architecture.
i feel weak. sore movements and a sore mind find every loose cavity of my body, and fill it with a cement that makes every movement a creaking, aching ordeal. protective glands swell and try to keep up and destroy what is destroying me.
but in no way is this just physical.
besides the aches, besides the pains, is something deeper, much deeper.
exhaustion haunts everything. no matter where i am, what [we] are doing, i feel a weight on my mind that is slowly consuming me, dragging me down to the depths of personal change.
i can’t sleep. and when i do, its not very comforting. its a tease of a sleep, its like eating just one m and m. it tasted great, the flavor is still on your tongue, but such a small filling. i need more. i fear resting my head on my pillow. i know that a busy mind will keep me restless and moving in the cold hours of the night. i hate it. god dammit i hate it. i have no cure. blue pills caress me sometimes, but they leave me feeling numb, even more exhausted. caffiene tries to tire my body out, but instead is reserved until i fall helplessly in my bed, and is then re-released and lingers, like an unwanted friend at a crashed party.
you know something isn’t right when even exhaustion isn’t tiring.
somewhere in my head, i know that something very bad, very dark is brewing. something isn’t right. it isnt coming very quickly, nor will it be here soon, but this intuition will surely be the death of me. but in death, i can sleep.
dreams don’t exist anymore. an alternate reality has taken their place. [this is where i have my fun. this is where i imagine all the what-ifs. this is where i recap on past emotions, and decide the next plan of action.]
and now, i pray.
i pray, and pray, for forgiveness, for just an ounce of the intoxicating liquid of sleep. i pray and pray to remind whoever, whatever, that what they have made is good. where a once focused beam was, a loose arrangement of radio waves now is.
maybe i need faith. maybe i need trust. maybe i need some sort of death.
i am confident now that i have a brother. not one who shares my rh genotypes, or blood clotting factors, but one that exists in the soul. one that is linking to me, knows me, hears me, one that is associated with me.
i know now that there is nothing that can compare to this. this man is not blood, but he is [life]blood. he is not family, but he is [soul]family. he is my brother.
[notice now, these words do not escape myself easily.] i love him, my brother-in-association, and i need him more than he knows. he is a part of me, he makes me, me. untellable amounts of memory would be lost without him. expeirences would be unlived, and life, in general, would lose a certain hue.
i know now, and i am confident now, that i have a brother.
sleep is an enemy. sleep is something i have to hunt, to capture, to attack and to kill in order to drink in its benefits. sleep is a wild animal, calming, and seductive, that can kill you without a moments hesitation.
tonight, im going to kill this beast, without a single remorse. no regret, no doubt.
tonight, i will win.
as i approach the gates to sleep’s calm habitat, i slip something new past the guards. two blue pills, both dense, full of dethymologpinfon and who knows what else. they look at me and smirk, they know i am cheating, but i sluff off their looks with determination in my eye.
upon entering, i see her right away. sleep is lying, ever so peacefully, on a bed of velvet grass. long blades cool her body, and i stop, seeing that she has acknowledges my presence. already i can feel her magic working upon me. already my vision gets hazy, and everything slows down. already my limbs feel tired, and my eyes want nothing but to close. but i must fight, i must win, i will sleep like a baby tonight, i promised myself.
i take out my weapon, which is always a surprise, tonight, it is a bow. blue, tassled arrows appear at my need, and i slowly notch one to my bowstring, taking note of the inner glow from the arrow. is it really going to be this easy?
of coarse not.
upon release of the arrow, i see my sleep dissipate into thin air. i run to where my arrow has fallen. nothing is there besides pollen and dust. like a cheshire cat, sleep comes together right in front of me. taunting me. i notch another arrow, noting it also has an inner, blue glow. sleep looks me right in the eyes, the sly, decieving bitch.
i let loose my need. it hits her in the heart, and she falls, ever so gracefully. i feel nothing. no remorse. i need my REM’s. i need to be renergized.
her effects are intoxicating me now, limbs are extremely heavy, my mind is clear, and i feel nothing but a light warm goodness. my head is nodding. i take out my bow, put it on the grass next to me. i take off my shoes, then my socks, and let my toes absorb the cool life of the grass. slowly, i lay down to rest myself on this godly cushion. highlights of the day flash before me, awakening me, only to be dismissed as nothing. if i forgot something, well then, ill deal with that in the morning. darkness is around me now, [time to embrace] i think to myself. [time to sleep].
i am a man of secrets. [ i am a man of burdens.] i am a man of truth’s. [ i am a man of lies.] i am a man of satisfaction. [ i am a man of lust.] i am a man of love. [ i am a man of hate.] i am a man of motives. [ i am a man of intentions.] i am a man of reactions. [i am a man of interactions.] i am a man of life. [ i am a man of creation.] i am a man of discovery. [i am a man of destruction.] i am a man of thought. [i am a man of instinct.] i am a man of dreams. [ i am a man of attempts] i am a man of failure. [i am a man of success.]
i am a man of sides. [i am a man of many, many, faces.]
i come home after an empty venture to an empty home. well, almost empty. a fatherly figure lies sleeping on a bed of dreams and comfort. i blunder in, not trying to be stealthy, but silent none the less. even though i was out for dinner, i am filled with hunger. an insatiable thirst, and a feeling familiar, but not recognizable. at least, not yet. i quickly take off my physical remembrances of the evening, my shoes; which have absorbed my every step, have held my weight, without a sigh or a groan. my pants, which have kept me covered and decent, which have sheltered me from harsh surroundings. i put on a pair of athletic shorts, but i have no intention to work out or run. i have a hunger to fill. i quickly go to my pantry. it seems limitless, full of food option, yet i see nothing. i am looking for a familiar comfort, a sweet taste to drown out all my thoughts. soda? no too sweet. hmm, here is something, peanut butter! not as easy to take by itself, but still delicious, and very filling. now something else, hmm graham crackers! i take them out of their case, they crumble away in my hands. not a brittle crack, just a mushy, stale dissolving. those will not do. decay will do nothing but increase my hunger. ahh, chocolate chips, my reading food, a thing of comfort. i take out a plate and pour some on. a movement catches my eye, some white among the velvety brown. god dammit, worms! little moth creatures crawl over every chip! a sinking feeling has pushed its way, no crawled, into me. my last resort is a blue package, i reach for it, and only two oreos shake in a noisey container. i open it, and upon grabbing one cookie, i see it has the consistentsy of my graham cracker, mushy, no solid, like the filling, and i hate the filling! why so much staleness, why so much decay?
my hunger increase, and i see nothing but the peanut butter. in a dream like state, not letting my eyes off my pray, i fumble for a metallic spoon; my weapon of choice. i grab the animal swifty, crack open its resilient red cap, and dive deep for the kill. i am victorious. aromas and glints attack my senses, overcome me, and i show a spoonful in my mouth.
it does not satisfy.
maybe another bite will do, maybe another lick. hmm, it tastes odd alone, not as good as i thought.
my hunger increases. milk does little to quench. i feel vulnerable all the sudden, invasive thoughts occupy my head. i want to break down. but i hold my compose.
why all the decay? is this a prediction of my night, or rather, a summary?
i feel weak, god i feel weak. my bed looks so great, heavenly, i need it. but i know, once inside its covers it will offer no protection against a rampant mind. everything aches. everything is sore. sleep, sleep, sleep, it rants in my head. [i don’t feel good, i feel, sick, abused] the screen of my computer across the room hurts my eyes, they water, and i hold back as much as i can. i feel terrible. [i hurt, dear lord i hurt]
no one is here to save me.
i could collapse right now, fall down, and white out as pressure and consistency of heart rate drop. terrible thoughts enter my head. [what the hell is happening to me?] cancer, death, stroke, heartbreak, death. [death.] i need sleep. breathing is becoming laborous. i need sleep. so bad i need to fall into a deep sleep, one from which i will not wake in this condition. one in which i feel refreshed, anew, holy and great.
good night. i type without a driver. this is instinct here, taking control. good night. dreams will haunt you tonight, i think. dreams, death, greatness, and holiness. they go together, i cant tell you how. i dont know. i don;t feel like explaining. i don’t feel like anything.
all’s well that ends well, and well, all of us are well on our way to an end.
i would like to pretend that the world is composed of two things. suffering, and pleasure. everything else is either built off these, or builds up these.
now thats not to say that suffering and pleasure are the only two emotions to exist, they are just easy to relate too, very powerful, and complicated enough to cover a lot of bases.
lets define pleasure: enjoyment or satisfaction derived from what is to one’s liking;gratification;
and now suffering: to undergo or feel pain or distress: ”The patient is stillsuffering.”
we have to assume that for these to be basic building blocks, they are opposites of each other. but in fact, they can very much relate. people take pleasure from suffering. people can suffer from pleasure. it works both ways. it’s not like suffering is the absence of pleasure, instead it is a completely different feeling. it is not a void of the other, it is a substance that fills the void. suffering is pain, distress, panic. the absence of pleasure is blank, maybe even dull feelings and unexcitment.
what makes these two emotions great for building and being built by everything else, is that it is very difficult to feel large quantities of either at the same time. if you are truly suffering, in pain, and under distress, then there is a very high chance they you are not feeling pleasure at the same time. the same goes for pleasure. you cannot truly enjoy pleasure, unless your pain, your panic and stress, is minimalized. try it sometime. when you are faced in a situation, gauge your pleasure vs. your suffering.
lastly, we must assume that suffering is a negative, and pleasure is a positive. this contradicts statements told earlier, but there needs to be a sense of direction, one that you strive for. so, the obvious winner is pleasure.
this assures us that all motivation is derived from pleasure, because in finishing a task, we seek it. we want rewards. we want anything pleasurable; a good feeling, a hug, a kiss, a new friend, or a trusted friends support and love.
this also assures us that we strive to stay away from suffering. suffering brings pain, sorrow, depression. break-ups, fights, rage, jealousy, and hate. these are all things of suffering.
[these are the things i love. the things on which i dwell. i lust for pleasure. i feed off of suffering. i am an anomaly. i dwell in both of the two emotions. you said before that you only had one thing to fear. and i give you good reason. i am there in the times of the good, and i am there in the times of the bad. i slowly suck emotion from you, and from its nutrients i pour out characters, words, thoughts, and life. so fear me, please fear me. i create and i destroy. i will always be there to protect you, and to propel you. i will always be there to kick you while you are down, and open the gates to those ideals and thoughts that you least wanted to hear, or have heard. ]
slowly, ever so slowly, a nice dull warm hue has applied itself to my vision. it makes everything look like i am remembering something. the edges get fuzzy, so that my peripheral vision, my second defense and only warning to hidden dangers, is disarmed. i do not think of movement anymore, it just happens. feet wonder aimlessly, but with a sense of purpose, like a secretly worried leader sending his troops to a place unknown, all while trying to look confident and brave. posture slowly looses its majestic touch, and shiny eyes and smiles wane just enough to display an aura. an aura of exhaustion.
slowly, ever so slowly, grammar starts to leave. spelling is on the fritz, but it will make it through the night. sentence structure is dismantled, as energy is being collected from unncecsarry functions. that giant pool of creativity starts to murk. i don’t quite remember it being that low, hm, the idea escapes just as quick as it appeared, being reused, recycled, in order to maintain the expected creativity.
slowly, ever so slowly, my memory goes. i can feel something rising in me. i can feel something coming out. it pushes at the back of my eyes ever so slightly, making me want to rub them. i indulge, and the present heaven of keeping them shut invites me in like toast and coco on a winter day. it’s a trap however. to sleep now would do no good. i have a schedule, things to do and people to interact with.
slowly, ever so slowly, i can recognize this being coming out. its intuition and instinct. they make a great pair, really. i rely on them in times of trouble, panic, and lust. they know what to do. they sit silently in the back of my mind, when i am youthful, and gaining experience, and watch and take notes. they have learned well. my conscious takes a few last looks, checks all the equipment, to make sure everything is running as properly as it can, and jumps down the stairs to rest itself in my subconscious. slowly, instinct takes its place, getting used to the controls, checking switches and gauges. intiution watches, silently, and adds the necessary grunt of approval, or speaks words of wisdom which i can not even start to understand.
slowly, ever so slowly, euphoria enters my head. vision is even more distorted. an image keeps repeating in my head. it seems very real. like i could go out and touch it. wait a second, this isn’t right. god dammit. im still awake, my conscious is still at the controls. i have spaced out, blanked. instinct is still their however. it is watching, taking notes.
slowly, ever so slowly, i dream of sleep. i fear it a little, knowing full well that i might not be able to attain such a thing. i fear it even more, as past nightmares enter my head. i fear it much, because i will be missing out on expeirences of the day, of those night dwellers who are also delirous.
slowly, ever so slowly, i convince myself. it’s time to sleep.
i push, and you playfully pit your force against mine.
[a change in perception, is a change is depth.] you know what i am. you know the truth. but so do we all. [i am a composition of reactions and interactions. i am a decision, the answer to a stream of questions.] i kiss. and you kiss back. [mirror, mirror, on the wall.] if i knew what you were, what you really were, i dont know if i’d feel the same. no one would. if you could find me, could hold me, could see through me, and find my secrets, uncover my truths, nothing would be the same. im glad it’s the way it is. i change. you change back. [ i am a composition of reactions and interactions. i am a decision, the answer to a stream of questions.] i ask, and you answer. [and flip. it seems the tables have turned, a challenge, a quest, a journey awaits.] you ask, and i answer. you change. i change back. solitude is confusion. singular thoughts escape me. too many ideas flash in at once, flood the memory core, and reboot the system. solitude is confusion. loneliness is meant for no one else but [us.] it is in a completely solo environment that interpretation is killed. [ i am a composition of reactions and interactions. i am a decision, the answer to a stream of questions.] so who exactly do you perform for?
i am a composition. symphonic. beautiful. a multitude of parts, each in turn made up of others, and other parts.reactions and interactions.
i am a decision. solid. faithful. premeditated. yet blind.
i am the answer. a consensus. a unified voice of thought. a reaction to a problem. a solved challenge. a fix, to a stream of questions.
at what point does my pleasure outweigh another person’s suffering?
assuming that all people consist of a space, fillable by emotion. and when one emotion [pleasure] is given, then another emotion [suffering] is transfered from the first person to the other connected person, and the connected person loses some of their pleasure. now lets assume we all are balances at the start. half pleasure, half suffering, or pain in simpler terms.
50/50 - 50/50 [pleasure/suffering] [person a - b]
70/30 - 30/70 [thirty of person b’s pleasure was given to person a, so thirty of person a’s suffering was given to person b.]
so using a simple majority, any amount of extra [>50] pleasure that i receive, equals that persons suffering. using that train of though, my pleasure will never be without consequence of suffering. suffering will always be there, matching, and sustaining my level of pleasure.
so i ask again, at what point [do i become blind enough from pleasure to ignore] the other person’s suffering?
c/answer: [computing answer…][error: 38384][reformatting…][improvising answer…][100%] this question cannot be determined by simple logistics alone. personal memory and emotion must be applied in order to answer correctly. so lets put it like this: all’s well that ends well. and well, all of us are well on our way to an end.
there was a day when i made up my mind. there was a day when i knew what i wanted, and i had a structure to get it. there once was a day when i told myself, i convinced myself, that she would not be the one that got away. that i wouldnt be held by regret, that i would not be the victim of my own mind’s ridicule. i told myself this, and i failed. there was a goal, and i did not reach it. there was an opportunity, and i did not take it. there was a door, and yet i sluffed it off. blame reactions, blame interactions, blame it all, and yet, even now, my feet are immobile. tendrils climb my legs. they hack into my body.
i can feel my senses slipping.
i am paralyzed, toxins hold me tight, and rigid.
i am desensitized, i cannot feel any more, other then a locking, fleeting sensations, a cocktail of failure and longing.
my brain starts to shut down.
my spelling leavves mee. i cannt holld oin 4 muhch longa.
ahnd now ma reeson. ahnd ther ma logic
i gain control, just to see my defenses start to fall, pummeled by [censored for your enjoyment!] - [your mind]ful government.]
i recognize now my attacker. it’s regret.
regret against the dying day. regret against actions untold and stories unplayed. regret. regret. regret.
i am a primordial being now.
only one thing crosses my mind, only one thing plays through my head:
balance is necessary in life. it determines what action comes next. what card will have to be played, and how you will live your life. there is no telling the next card however. there is no way to predict when or how a balancing act will occur. these are things that are only discovered when reflected upon. these are things that are blinded and overcome by the simplest of emotions [love, hate, lust, jealousy, fear, anticipation; these are the things of which i right]
on that note, and using that thought: my enjoyment now foreshadows or past-shadows events that will or have happened. i am a bad luck charm. my total score so far: 2 occurrence. both have ended very well, or have yet to end. yet on the road to happiness i have caused either injury or loss. a third is developing, and entails with it the hungry dogs of drama. i am a bad luck charm.
yet i am composed of three things. bad, luck, and charm. the first word holds obviously negative connotations. the last two, however, are positive. so really, is the title so bad? 2/3 is a majority, greater than simple.
so in [my] reality, i am the most positive of bad things. i am a sure sign of bad things to come or that have already happened. but because of balance, i also bring with me happiness and refuge.
“Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.”—Matthew 7:7-8
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyyes, I all aloone beweep my ouutcast state And trouble deaf hheaavven with my bootless cries And look upon myseelf and curse my fate, Wishing me like to onne more rich in hoope, Feattured like hhim, like hiim with friennds possess’d, Desiringg this man’s artt and that man’s scoope, With what I most enjoy contented leastf; Yeet in these thoughts myself aalmost despisingr, Haply I1 think on t8hee, and then my state1, Lik5e to the lark at br2eak of day arising From sullen4 earth, sings hymns at h2eaven’s gate; For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings5 That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
already i can feel my heart beating. i havn’t even stepped outside yet. it’s safe here in the car right? i can just dream up all i want. i can dream up how many ways it can go right, what will happen, how it will end.
what? i’m walking? i resist the urge to pinch myself. i must be dreaming. at least, that’s what it feels like looking back.
i can feel skin now. meek smiles and quieted hello’s are all betrayed by embrace. a hug should never be disregarded, not for one second. it is an art form that is not easily mimicked or used for trickery. it’s intentions are of the purest form.
[we’re] walking now. it’s uncomfortably fast, as if my mind is walking instead of my feet. absolute trash falls out of my mouth. once again, barbwire and concrete are crushed and cut into nothing. suddenly silence is something i can’t stand. i have truly entered autopilot. [my mind]ful government watches and approves. is this how interaction is supposed to be. but then there’s a breach in the defenses, i note it quickly, but do nothing. it seems my constant barrage is working. time to do to you what you did to me in 2 seconds.
time jumps. i am awakened by ice water. it engulfs my feet. i can’t be dreaming now, can i?
and now im lying down. i finally kick in, [blank] can’t take it any longer. im actually comfortable. and my necessary words fall right into place. now nervious tention awaits me, i can see it waving, like an awkward aunt who you just can’t remeber the name of.
and then a sudden turn! phew! looks like i got out of that one. shamrocks and lephricans dance in my mind. i am lucky. and silence, once dreaded, is okay.
but there goes my government again, editing and inserting what i think i should be saying. silence is destroyed. passion ensues.
once again i jump. now im at a car. its vaguely familiar. not my own of course, but shaded similarly and sleek. it represents a rightful owner. sleek, smooth, powerful, and capable. i know. c/command inquiry knows. eye contact never lies. [not yet it doesn’t]
this time, when i say the gap, the breach in defenses, i went for it, i tromped in, and i gently examined what i could get my hands on before being thrown out again.
but that was then, this is now, and im back. my heart is restful, it is my mind, my head that is beating now. i fight back smiles, and i don’t even know why.
fear. something no one can live without. it haunts dark alley’s and overtakes lightless rooms. it sits just outside your window, just past the light circle around the campfire. its threshold is in the noises of the night, silence of the day, and through mental images that flash and play at your eyes, making you think for, just a second, that that was, in fact, very real.
fear is a drug. it releases emotions. it releases adrenaline. it amplifies the heart, and alerts the senses. fight, or flight, or fear of both. it doesnt matter. you are a captive. it holds more strength than love. more grit than patience. it compares only to jealousy in terms of sheer power.
monsters aren’t the only thing to be afraid of. nor are muggers, or robbers, or murderers. terrorist attacks, rape, commitment and prison have nothing on the sole greatest puppet and puppeteer of fear:
the mind. [be it yours or mine, abandon all hope ye who enter here.]
today was great. i woke up feeling great. the computer game i was trying to download finally worked. i went to work to find it calm, serene, and then had a rubber band fight there. it was great. we got to close early even. [something isn’t quite right here…] i hung out with great friends, made even better memories watching beautiful fireworks. [why am i getting so lucky, this isnt right, something is about to go wrong…] then an even more amazing night followed, ending abruptly with confusion. [ahh, there we go…]
my recent endeavors have yet to catch up with me. how long can i live like this? my [sins], my pleasures, they all come with a price. have i paid it? hell if i know. not enough talk has happened. i feel nothing of brilliance right now. all accomplishment, no matter how great, how proven, how carefree, is enjoyed with a season of doubt. it’s that not-quite-right taste of only recently stale cereal. all luck is now a game of chance. [i am enjoying it, dear god im enjoying it. but i think im not the only one, maybe it’s not all serious. maybe it’s all in good fun, maybe i am just lucky.]
i need more than action.
i need proof.
i need assurance. i need a vent. a black hole for all i care.
[and what is this? ahh, tumblr, you never fail me.]
i know this feeling all too well. its almost like a dull ache in your brain. something about staying up past 2 triggers your body to try and null its way into sleep. eye lids are noticable heavy, but forces counterweight them up. limbs and responses are reduced. electric signals and reactions slow. you need sleep. your mind needs to rest. so what are you waiting for?
this dream i’ve been recently living, is very real. no longer do i have to wonder, i know what is happening, and i have the power to do and change what i want. no longer am i covered by the insurance of being able to wake up and think it all away. but with great risks, came even greater pleasure. the ferocity, intensity, and limber ideals of my dream are intensified as ecstasy dulls and numbs my other senses, releasing my primal instincts and making me hypersensitive to endorphins and seritonin. muscles flex and back’s arch, irises dilate and minds flutter. my dream, is very, very real.
well, have to follow my rule of 2 here and post in duo’s. [it’s in the unofficial rule book for making a good blog, rule #4: always have a set structure, even if its chaos, and follow it.] not every first or second post is public however, so you’ll have to trust me on this one.
on a less serious note then my previous posts. a certain someone has pretty much seen right through my games. i don’t know if i should feel embarrassed, surprised, disgraced, or flattered, either way it’s time to update a little. hope you have fun. [and hopefully my [blank] side hasn’t left you wondering about me…]
i just watched moon. made me feel like i needed a clone to love. confused? rent it! now. now onto watch layer cake. heard it was a mind blower.
i’ve begun to realize how much i enjoy typing on this. feels great to be able to say just about anything, and control the audience a little, or at least, who’s reading or what they read. i can’t wait to look back on this, if the internet still exists and everything isn’t telepathic, in 50 years and reflect on it. [if we make it that far, i don’t die from some disease, my memory doesn’t fail me, and 2012 doesn’t come true.]
i’ve also started to realize how much blogging is like talking to yourself. [the latter being not as socially accepted of course.] i type either to someone in particular, or no one at all. i’m not crazy, [blank] is. [curious as to who [blank] is, well think of it as a two way mirror, you’re [blank], but i can see through it, so i’m [blank], now think of this mirror being able to take on the form on anything. so in reality, [blank] is everything, anything, and what’s in between.
another thing i’ve realized, this blog is a stream of consciousness. and also how much of a love/hate relationship i have with emotions. [previous posts confirm this.] everything i’ve ever prepared for in my life has, in some way, been spoiled, foiled, or soiled, by emotions. on the flip side, they can make a situation beyond amazing. the instability of it all is what throws me off i guess. for now, i’ll just have to get back into the fight to control the little bastards[emotions i mean…], and enjoy how they affect my life. we are in control! [for now.]
what kind of world is this where we defend our enemies yet attack our friends?
the right one.
We have friends to make ourselves better. they reflect us. we reflect them. we absorb them into our character, steal their best traits, and augment our personalities with the little pieces of them. They are also our checks and balances. they know you, and so they keep you in line with what should and will be best for you [more often then not lets hope]. so why do we often criticize our brothers-not-in-blood? to help them. [backstabbing, trickery, kniving, these, although bad, can affect for good. a great idea fit into a terrible platform of communication.] we need to keep them in line as much as they need to keep us in line. the only thing that really differs them from the rest of [anonymous]?
trust and respect.
the exact opposite of what we [perceive] in our enemies. they are the critics, the opposition, and the offense. they gobble up our every move, use our actions and words as ammo to hit us repeatedly with. so why respect them? because they are
they have friends. they have family. they are brothers, sister, wives, husbands, aunts and uncles, and lovers. they deserve what you do.
the only things worth fighting for are matters of opinion. even truth, and freedom, things perceived good in our minds, may be terrible in others. it is this reason why we fight, why we have friends, and why we have enemies.
next time [we] feel hatred, feel passion, feel faith, loyalty, or even jealousy, remember our duty to others; to constantly improve and modify in hopes to augment and make better the civilization we live in. [and so we pray, for strength and guidance to…] Fight for your morals, stay strong in your beliefs, to love your brothers, and respect your foes. give a little to get a little. and trust in those who trust in you.