I'm still working on this one... but i thought it might be nice to share what i have to far...
Sunday, February 22, 2009
work in progress... "DOC"
I'm still working on this one... but i thought it might be nice to share what i have to far...
Thursday, February 19, 2009
because i can...
Sometimes, because I can, I change the way I interact with people.
This change transcends all potential shifts and developmental upgrades to our common everyday self. The change is aware of itself; aware of it’s affect on the relationship that exists between me and these people.
I shift in the storyline and test the pressure points.
Push and tug and press and hug and lick and sniff and rub and tickle and slug shove.
This is the only true way to get to know yourself…and the other
It’s not that I feel like other human beings exist to feed my collection of interactions.
I'm not some savage creature feeding off of human emotions.
We don’t feed, we exchange and we serve as another’s catalog of moments.
This change transcends all potential shifts and developmental upgrades to our common everyday self. The change is aware of itself; aware of it’s affect on the relationship that exists between me and these people.
I shift in the storyline and test the pressure points.
Push and tug and press and hug and lick and sniff and rub and tickle and slug shove.
This is the only true way to get to know yourself…and the other
It’s not that I feel like other human beings exist to feed my collection of interactions.
I'm not some savage creature feeding off of human emotions.
We don’t feed, we exchange and we serve as another’s catalog of moments.
Friday, February 13, 2009
10/09/2008
I'm rehashing some words I put down in my notebook...
(This one is a little negative)
10/09/2008
Here I am festering in my discontent. I am angry and unresolved. But worst of all I realize that I am completely jealous and envious of your freedom; your freedom of commitment, of work. I’m green over your freedom from emotional ties and superficial sensations that serve as chains to tie me down. I am indeed my own worse enemy. I create the situations that I despise. Is it a test of wills? Why would I endure such ridiculous circumstances? Why am I so dependent of these emotions?
I want to bathe myself in the moon’s pure white light and erase all the cuts my feeble arms acquired while attempting to hold onto some sort of reality.
(a few hours later this happened...)
I want the power to engage-to awaken the beauty in other’s minds. I want to inspire, I want to my smile –my presence to ripple affect those around me. I want my good vibrations to be contagious. I want to love eternally. I want to share my whole existence with the world. I want to group hug them all while I’m at it! I want to do real good things for humanity not just what is told to me is good…
I’m a rational being and that’s all it takes for me to do good unto others even when they won’t do good unto me. I have to give even when there is no returning, more so when there is no return.
(This one is a little negative)
10/09/2008
Here I am festering in my discontent. I am angry and unresolved. But worst of all I realize that I am completely jealous and envious of your freedom; your freedom of commitment, of work. I’m green over your freedom from emotional ties and superficial sensations that serve as chains to tie me down. I am indeed my own worse enemy. I create the situations that I despise. Is it a test of wills? Why would I endure such ridiculous circumstances? Why am I so dependent of these emotions?
I want to bathe myself in the moon’s pure white light and erase all the cuts my feeble arms acquired while attempting to hold onto some sort of reality.
(a few hours later this happened...)
I want the power to engage-to awaken the beauty in other’s minds. I want to inspire, I want to my smile –my presence to ripple affect those around me. I want my good vibrations to be contagious. I want to love eternally. I want to share my whole existence with the world. I want to group hug them all while I’m at it! I want to do real good things for humanity not just what is told to me is good…
I’m a rational being and that’s all it takes for me to do good unto others even when they won’t do good unto me. I have to give even when there is no returning, more so when there is no return.
this is only a test...
Sometimes it feels like I’m winning the little test I set up for those I share some sort of human socialized relationship with…
It seems ridiculous of me to even prescribe the qualities of winning or losing in a game I’m the creator and only player aware of its existence. Yet somehow I have the upper hand in the war of social interaction. It’s an epic battle to gain the mighty throne of uselessness, created and maintained by the perversion of my imagination.
These tests are just a pale reflection of my short comings, desires, and weaknesses. I expect in the other the qualities I wish to manifest in myself.
They serve as reflections of my moral standings. What I give importance to and believe… what I was taught to believe as appropriate traits.
Truthfully I really want the other to concede and let me win. Allow my judgment to be right, give me an affirmation of my idiocy. I wouldn’t go so far as to think I’m the only being that engages in such absurd games, but I have no desire to find out who else is partaking.
If they can forgive me for creating the test then somehow I can forgive myself as well.
It seems ridiculous of me to even prescribe the qualities of winning or losing in a game I’m the creator and only player aware of its existence. Yet somehow I have the upper hand in the war of social interaction. It’s an epic battle to gain the mighty throne of uselessness, created and maintained by the perversion of my imagination.
These tests are just a pale reflection of my short comings, desires, and weaknesses. I expect in the other the qualities I wish to manifest in myself.
They serve as reflections of my moral standings. What I give importance to and believe… what I was taught to believe as appropriate traits.
Truthfully I really want the other to concede and let me win. Allow my judgment to be right, give me an affirmation of my idiocy. I wouldn’t go so far as to think I’m the only being that engages in such absurd games, but I have no desire to find out who else is partaking.
If they can forgive me for creating the test then somehow I can forgive myself as well.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
eggplant dragons...
I pepper my daily life with streams of patterns. In creating these patterns I ease the pressure of collective existence.The more established these patterns are, the more likely I am able to escape inside my head.Once these patterns become second nature to my body, the more likely I am able to perform these tasks while my mind wanders off into my favorite place… my imagination.
I have a routine for everything I assess as useless daily collective living task.These include but are not limited to: showering and other hygienic tasks, *work-not my own personal creative work, but the kind we do to gain some sort of monetary compensation in order to sustain a certain prescribe lifestyle. I would like to add that I don’t like work. I know a lot of people don’t either. I just don’t see the point in exerting so much energy for someone else’s gain.
Since I don’t like it, I have learned to sacrifice certain useless vices in order to accommodate my lack of desire of working for other’s gains. Eating can turn into a sort of routine as well, at least the process of preparing my food for work. Cooking can be very pleasurable if I didn’t have to run out in the next 15 minutes to avoid heavy traffic.
And in comes the biggest waste of time EVER… driving. I hate driving, I hate cars, I wish I didn’t have to do it but I live in were public transportation sucks.I especially tune out of this world when I am driving. It is completely involuntary though, I just escape automatically. I know it’s kind of reckless but my body choices to tune out.
Blah blah blah… I could go on and describe the specific patterns I have established in full details, but I realize how boring that must be. All the while I’m leaping to and fro to worlds filled with eggplant dragons that need to be roasted by winged marshmallow sea bass. Or I’m devising an intricate plan on how to convert all red heart people into yellow projecting shaman.
After a while though, the escape these patterns make take a toll on me. I just want to be in my head and I don’t want to come out. Social interaction can be very difficult when you are imagining the people around you as pirates attacking you. Plus, routines get boring-so as outrageous as my imagination can be the exterior can dampen the joy of the innerverse.
It’s been 27 years and I still can’t find the balance between these worlds on mine. There will come the point when these worlds collide and the clean up won’t be as easy as it use to be. I’m going to have to pick a side.
*present job excluded...
I have a routine for everything I assess as useless daily collective living task.These include but are not limited to: showering and other hygienic tasks, *work-not my own personal creative work, but the kind we do to gain some sort of monetary compensation in order to sustain a certain prescribe lifestyle. I would like to add that I don’t like work. I know a lot of people don’t either. I just don’t see the point in exerting so much energy for someone else’s gain.
Since I don’t like it, I have learned to sacrifice certain useless vices in order to accommodate my lack of desire of working for other’s gains. Eating can turn into a sort of routine as well, at least the process of preparing my food for work. Cooking can be very pleasurable if I didn’t have to run out in the next 15 minutes to avoid heavy traffic.
And in comes the biggest waste of time EVER… driving. I hate driving, I hate cars, I wish I didn’t have to do it but I live in were public transportation sucks.I especially tune out of this world when I am driving. It is completely involuntary though, I just escape automatically. I know it’s kind of reckless but my body choices to tune out.
Blah blah blah… I could go on and describe the specific patterns I have established in full details, but I realize how boring that must be. All the while I’m leaping to and fro to worlds filled with eggplant dragons that need to be roasted by winged marshmallow sea bass. Or I’m devising an intricate plan on how to convert all red heart people into yellow projecting shaman.
After a while though, the escape these patterns make take a toll on me. I just want to be in my head and I don’t want to come out. Social interaction can be very difficult when you are imagining the people around you as pirates attacking you. Plus, routines get boring-so as outrageous as my imagination can be the exterior can dampen the joy of the innerverse.
It’s been 27 years and I still can’t find the balance between these worlds on mine. There will come the point when these worlds collide and the clean up won’t be as easy as it use to be. I’m going to have to pick a side.
*present job excluded...
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Diana Update
Just showing some of the progress on this piece.
It's been sort of a bitch to work on, only because the canvas was primed for acrylics and i'm using oil paints. So what would only take one brush stroke now takes five for the same depth of color and effect.
Patience and love is all it takes to finish it!
Friday, January 30, 2009
imaginary (hildi)- entries for anik,dōt project
1.
Growing up my sister and I didn’t have imaginary friends, we had imaginary villains. They looked like giant Ken dolls; pre-synthetic hair, and they were all called "Macho".
2.
My mother instilled in her children a fear of using public bathrooms. She made it seem like a bacteria would eat me from the inside out if I so much as exposed my bare bottom near a public restroom. It got so bad sometimes I would go the whole day at school without relieving myself.
One day during an art club meeting, Mr. Mac asked me to get some construction paper out of the art supply room. But I also really had to pee. What to do? What to do? My poor judgment convinced me to get the paper first and hold it out until I got home.
Bad Idea, I stretch to grab the construction paper off the shelf and lost control of my bladder. I peed all over the floor. Yup, I was that kid-the one that smelled like pee. In a feeble attempt to cover up my embarrassment I used some of the construction paper and left a trail of moist ripped urine smelling dots all over the floor.
Best part is, my sister did the same exact thing in the same exact room… and she tried to cover it up the same exact way.
3.
I had a “Ralphy” when I was younger. For those of you who don’t know what that means, it’s what you call facial hair whiskers on women. It was really noticeable. One day on the bus ride home, right before I was at my house, an elementary school boy yelled out, “That girl has a mustache! I thought only boys had a mustache…” and he was genuinely confused. I’m assuming that moment altered his perception of reality forever… good the little fucker deserved it for calling me out like that!
4.
I once jumped butt naked over a dead chicken lit on fire in order to exorcise 3 ghosts that apparently were sexually assaulting me while I slept. And yes, I had to jump 3 times.
5.
I still remember one of the first moments I transcended from child to awkward teenage hormonal gunk. And it was all because of a girl named Roxy.
She was a patrol at my elementary school and I really did look up to her! She was always very kind to me. She was one of the few older kids that would talk to me like a human being and not like a child.
One day being lead by foolish peer pressure and the desire to fit in I jumped on top of a toilet seat and dropped a huge spit ball over to the stall next to me. A thud and a shriek later I knew I hit my target. But to my dismay when I peaked over the top to mock my victim it was Roxy looking right back at me in horror.
All she could do was stare back. Her eyes were searching mine for a viable excuse. Hildi couldn’t have been the one to do this one… maybe she walked in after the culprit left. No, not really. It was me-all me. I had to tip that cup over.
To add insult to injury, she was caught at one of the most vulnerable moments anyone could be messed with-while her pants are around her ankles. Right then I ate the apple and one more layer of innocence was ripped off me.
6.
In an effort to torture me and indulge in the stereotypical behavior of older siblings, I was taunted with story of trash can retrievals and I was told I’m Freddie Mercury’s love child. You see I had really buckteeth… and a Ralphy…
7.
After a very sweet romantic date, we were about to seal the night with the perfect kiss. Suddenly we find ourselves not alone. My dad scuffles out of the house to greet us, half asleep and only wearing his underwear. He lifts his arms up in the air in a pleading motion.
I skip the kiss, jump out of the car, run pass him, and into the house - mortified! My dad wears bikini cut undies!
Growing up my sister and I didn’t have imaginary friends, we had imaginary villains. They looked like giant Ken dolls; pre-synthetic hair, and they were all called "Macho".
2.
My mother instilled in her children a fear of using public bathrooms. She made it seem like a bacteria would eat me from the inside out if I so much as exposed my bare bottom near a public restroom. It got so bad sometimes I would go the whole day at school without relieving myself.
One day during an art club meeting, Mr. Mac asked me to get some construction paper out of the art supply room. But I also really had to pee. What to do? What to do? My poor judgment convinced me to get the paper first and hold it out until I got home.
Bad Idea, I stretch to grab the construction paper off the shelf and lost control of my bladder. I peed all over the floor. Yup, I was that kid-the one that smelled like pee. In a feeble attempt to cover up my embarrassment I used some of the construction paper and left a trail of moist ripped urine smelling dots all over the floor.
Best part is, my sister did the same exact thing in the same exact room… and she tried to cover it up the same exact way.
3.
I had a “Ralphy” when I was younger. For those of you who don’t know what that means, it’s what you call facial hair whiskers on women. It was really noticeable. One day on the bus ride home, right before I was at my house, an elementary school boy yelled out, “That girl has a mustache! I thought only boys had a mustache…” and he was genuinely confused. I’m assuming that moment altered his perception of reality forever… good the little fucker deserved it for calling me out like that!
4.
I once jumped butt naked over a dead chicken lit on fire in order to exorcise 3 ghosts that apparently were sexually assaulting me while I slept. And yes, I had to jump 3 times.
5.
I still remember one of the first moments I transcended from child to awkward teenage hormonal gunk. And it was all because of a girl named Roxy.
She was a patrol at my elementary school and I really did look up to her! She was always very kind to me. She was one of the few older kids that would talk to me like a human being and not like a child.
One day being lead by foolish peer pressure and the desire to fit in I jumped on top of a toilet seat and dropped a huge spit ball over to the stall next to me. A thud and a shriek later I knew I hit my target. But to my dismay when I peaked over the top to mock my victim it was Roxy looking right back at me in horror.
All she could do was stare back. Her eyes were searching mine for a viable excuse. Hildi couldn’t have been the one to do this one… maybe she walked in after the culprit left. No, not really. It was me-all me. I had to tip that cup over.
To add insult to injury, she was caught at one of the most vulnerable moments anyone could be messed with-while her pants are around her ankles. Right then I ate the apple and one more layer of innocence was ripped off me.
6.
In an effort to torture me and indulge in the stereotypical behavior of older siblings, I was taunted with story of trash can retrievals and I was told I’m Freddie Mercury’s love child. You see I had really buckteeth… and a Ralphy…
7.
After a very sweet romantic date, we were about to seal the night with the perfect kiss. Suddenly we find ourselves not alone. My dad scuffles out of the house to greet us, half asleep and only wearing his underwear. He lifts his arms up in the air in a pleading motion.
I skip the kiss, jump out of the car, run pass him, and into the house - mortified! My dad wears bikini cut undies!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
work in progress...
I'm making this for a friend. I started working on it back in october or november (can't remember right now)
There is still so much work to be done to it... but i thought it would be nice to catalog my progress through a bloggish means
Friday, January 16, 2009
penetrating the juggler...
These are the last two of my 12 mini-canvas experimentation with oil colors.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Sunday, December 21, 2008
unasked pleasure
Sometimes unasked pleasures are mapped out in front of my eyes. They just appear, almost in protest to my current reality. Although enjoyable, these pleasures cause more trouble then their initial worth. And yet I find myself longing for the trouble.
Every decision taken has about a million potentialities. Each story is tagged with my name as reference, pointing fingers to which way to go. Hypothetically, I could take as many roads as my inception of this cosmic veracity permits.
But is it possible for two distinctly different entities to complete each other’s paths, intersecting long enough to measure the mutual experiences? Do we serve as each other’s quality control? Or is this my narcissistic attempt to feel a true belonging into the popular girl’s club?
Well there you are. We both tip toed unaware of each other’s true intent and stimulation, we both wanted the same prize. A simple longing to feel the sweet tangy burns of deviant behavior. To break the bind of smothering socialized oppression of collective existence. To be bad, to be free, to be burned in ecstasy.
You fell right in it…the place I was inches away from reaching.
Unaware-the whole experience seemed so innocent and pure to you.
I felt the burn, but not of pleasure.
I felt the burn of my own actions reflected on my face.
I changed colors with the sting of the truth.
Yet there is a distinct enjoyment of watching it, nonetheless.
Of watching the “what if… oh I see why not.” of it all.
I got the pleasure of knowing how short filled and empty the whole lot of it is-sometimes.
Every decision taken has about a million potentialities. Each story is tagged with my name as reference, pointing fingers to which way to go. Hypothetically, I could take as many roads as my inception of this cosmic veracity permits.
But is it possible for two distinctly different entities to complete each other’s paths, intersecting long enough to measure the mutual experiences? Do we serve as each other’s quality control? Or is this my narcissistic attempt to feel a true belonging into the popular girl’s club?
Well there you are. We both tip toed unaware of each other’s true intent and stimulation, we both wanted the same prize. A simple longing to feel the sweet tangy burns of deviant behavior. To break the bind of smothering socialized oppression of collective existence. To be bad, to be free, to be burned in ecstasy.
You fell right in it…the place I was inches away from reaching.
Unaware-the whole experience seemed so innocent and pure to you.
I felt the burn, but not of pleasure.
I felt the burn of my own actions reflected on my face.
I changed colors with the sting of the truth.
Yet there is a distinct enjoyment of watching it, nonetheless.
Of watching the “what if… oh I see why not.” of it all.
I got the pleasure of knowing how short filled and empty the whole lot of it is-sometimes.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
freefall
I went pretty deep down low yesterday. It felt like falling but not the gleeful freeing kind. It was an endless freefall. It was more along the lines of terror of a new state of being engulfed in the flames of indifference. I felt swallowed by a dark spot in the world that would only allow me the view of light through a pigeon hole.
I wanted to reach out and ask for help but my voice got drowned out by the echo of the dark walls that surrounded me. These walls played tricks on me. They would begin to move and turn around to reveal huge towering horrifying personified versions of my weaknesses, all hovering over me with all intent and purpose of consuming me upon command.
Where were you then? You were guarded by your own walls of self-indulgence. Add a window next time to so you can see me drowning.
It passed, but not without leaving marks.
I wanted to reach out and ask for help but my voice got drowned out by the echo of the dark walls that surrounded me. These walls played tricks on me. They would begin to move and turn around to reveal huge towering horrifying personified versions of my weaknesses, all hovering over me with all intent and purpose of consuming me upon command.
Where were you then? You were guarded by your own walls of self-indulgence. Add a window next time to so you can see me drowning.
It passed, but not without leaving marks.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
sweat glands
I’m bound to my longing. It creeps in slowly; my heart starts to race a bit. The real awareness comes from my hands.
When activated, the sweat glands vibrate with an electric sting. As the fluids build up, collecting in the well of each pore, my hands shake without any discern from my will. Moisture, droplets alert me of my new state of mind.
I’m overtaken by panic from the illusion of any human physical contact. This in turn creates the anxiety that produces more sweat from my hands. Filled with an overwhelming amount of self awareness I attempt to casually dry my hands on my cloths. But it’s futile.
There is no real way to stop my body when it reaches this state. Carrying napkins won’t help. I just have to bare with it. Calm myself down long enough to release my mind from the death grip of awareness.
It always amuses me to find others plagued with this torture. I find they always deal with it better than I do. We do find a form of comradeship or a celebration of the awkward sensation in our hands. We can not control it, but now we can share in discomfort. Sometimes it’s said we can even find a pleasure in it.
When activated, the sweat glands vibrate with an electric sting. As the fluids build up, collecting in the well of each pore, my hands shake without any discern from my will. Moisture, droplets alert me of my new state of mind.
I’m overtaken by panic from the illusion of any human physical contact. This in turn creates the anxiety that produces more sweat from my hands. Filled with an overwhelming amount of self awareness I attempt to casually dry my hands on my cloths. But it’s futile.
There is no real way to stop my body when it reaches this state. Carrying napkins won’t help. I just have to bare with it. Calm myself down long enough to release my mind from the death grip of awareness.
It always amuses me to find others plagued with this torture. I find they always deal with it better than I do. We do find a form of comradeship or a celebration of the awkward sensation in our hands. We can not control it, but now we can share in discomfort. Sometimes it’s said we can even find a pleasure in it.
Friday, November 21, 2008
p.s.
this is the first time since a long time I've been home alone...and it feels nice to be swallowed by the vibration of the pulse of my solitude.
hidden place
Sometimes when I want to show the world who I really am… the biggest, brightest, purest, softest, swirliest, warmest, shimmery, dink’a’ doo I love you part of myself, I just can’t. I become so self-aware, measured. I’m so overwhelmed with the desire to be as pure as possible I begin to question everything. Even now as I write this, the pressure from the awareness to project the superlative version of myself is so intense that it irreversibly begins to block my pure thought. As the awareness of the pressure reaches the conscious mind, I feebly hold onto the miserable dripplet of my primal self…of the glitter wand limited edition identity.
Friday, November 14, 2008
lies sweet sweet lies...
I've lied before and I'm sure it will happen again.
I've lied to the point that i don't remember the truth anymore.
As if this fictional account has transcended the boundaries of experiences and pronounced itself real.
but why wouldn't it be real? Once something occurs it's stored away in the outskirts of our memory which in turn become their own tainted and distorted residue of what was perceived previously. Our minds distorts occurrences, through an intricate process of selection we retain what we value of any given situation...so moments are in essence a violation of actualities the instant they cross over into existence to our perceived realities.
reality is a doubtful collection of instances that are a violation of the essential nature of things...so who cares if what i say is real or made up...it's as real as i desire it to be.
I've lied to the point that i don't remember the truth anymore.
As if this fictional account has transcended the boundaries of experiences and pronounced itself real.
but why wouldn't it be real? Once something occurs it's stored away in the outskirts of our memory which in turn become their own tainted and distorted residue of what was perceived previously. Our minds distorts occurrences, through an intricate process of selection we retain what we value of any given situation...so moments are in essence a violation of actualities the instant they cross over into existence to our perceived realities.
reality is a doubtful collection of instances that are a violation of the essential nature of things...so who cares if what i say is real or made up...it's as real as i desire it to be.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
the secret
the secret is, there is no secret only soggy skinless testicles leaving a bloody trail on the floor for others to clean up after you…wwwwweeeeeeehhhhhhhhhh take flight in the fight of the navigating star bundles that splinter into savage creatures called humanity…look deep into your eyes and trip on the roller coaster inside your mind bubbles until you swirl long enough into empty space the same amount of light years it takes for you to find the secrets to nothingness is everythingness. i’ll cut you, cut you down till there is nothing left until you do the same for me…please cut away this mass of human history of socialized conditioning that tried to drill in me the aesthetic value pink for girls and blue for boys and yellow for commies and red for the blood of the land we rape for a starbuck latte…
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Dismemberment
My body fell apart today.
My legs ran off. My arms flapped away only to drop down when my hands fled towards their own
liberation from the tyranny of elbows.
Little by little everything dislodged itself.
Even my eyes popped and rolled off into the world of the seen.
My skin tented itself in a questionable position I would never put myself in.
My guts romanced my brain to join them in a game of truth or dare.
My nose ran up my ass since my foot remarried her leg.
Surprisingly, the only part of me that stayed was the ash of my past.
Haunting me, mocking me, creating a silhouette of me.
I tried to blow them away, scatter the ash that once burned me bright.
But I don’t have lungs; the ebony addicts revolted years ago and joined the cinder movement.
So I was just empty- a collection of missing pieces.
I became a fragment within time, vaporized into a distortion of memories of sorts.
How was I going to pull myself together when I didn’t want those pieces anymore?
I enjoyed the mist I was destroyed into.
I enjoyed not being.
So I wondered endlessly, I was walking without legs.
Thinking without a brain full of conditions and lessons and memories and experiences and lectures but I was full of knowledge. I grabbed the air around me and flung myself into the sky and spin my pinky finger like a propeller engine towards the earth where I sank deep deep within the bliss of gunk and the birth of decay. i was everything and everything was me…everything was my chest and lungs which I used to yell-"the end of identity approaches us so grab hold of your fleeting selves for your never to be remembered or valued or known by anything or anyone."
My legs ran off. My arms flapped away only to drop down when my hands fled towards their own
liberation from the tyranny of elbows.
Little by little everything dislodged itself.
Even my eyes popped and rolled off into the world of the seen.
My skin tented itself in a questionable position I would never put myself in.
My guts romanced my brain to join them in a game of truth or dare.
My nose ran up my ass since my foot remarried her leg.
Surprisingly, the only part of me that stayed was the ash of my past.
Haunting me, mocking me, creating a silhouette of me.
I tried to blow them away, scatter the ash that once burned me bright.
But I don’t have lungs; the ebony addicts revolted years ago and joined the cinder movement.
So I was just empty- a collection of missing pieces.
I became a fragment within time, vaporized into a distortion of memories of sorts.
How was I going to pull myself together when I didn’t want those pieces anymore?
I enjoyed the mist I was destroyed into.
I enjoyed not being.
So I wondered endlessly, I was walking without legs.
Thinking without a brain full of conditions and lessons and memories and experiences and lectures but I was full of knowledge. I grabbed the air around me and flung myself into the sky and spin my pinky finger like a propeller engine towards the earth where I sank deep deep within the bliss of gunk and the birth of decay. i was everything and everything was me…everything was my chest and lungs which I used to yell-"the end of identity approaches us so grab hold of your fleeting selves for your never to be remembered or valued or known by anything or anyone."
Saturday, September 20, 2008
where are you going
I find myself once again floating around aimlessly swiping my hands around in a desperate need to latch onto something-anything. I am surrounded by an infinite amount of potential life spans but i feel extremely lost. I don't know what to do next with myself, and as when i was a child i feel the angst of making the wrong move. I thought this feeling would evaporate as i got older but it's still here. After i complete one stage or challenge or task or role or mission or project or...anything i feel this overwhelming need to move on and try something different. Yet i freeze and i can't proceed, i reach a point of existential blockage.
I know that I've evolved as a human being, I'm wiser and more in tune with my physical body's reaction to the physical world around me. My character is defined to me...so in other words i know how my being function in a way i could never imagine 10 years ago. For that, I'm thrilled.
but i feel so stuck right now.
I know that I've evolved as a human being, I'm wiser and more in tune with my physical body's reaction to the physical world around me. My character is defined to me...so in other words i know how my being function in a way i could never imagine 10 years ago. For that, I'm thrilled.
but i feel so stuck right now.
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