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.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
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.
Monday, August 11, 2008
work
My relationship with my boss is very odd. It's a bizarre combination between a boyfriend and sister. She reacts to my action as if she were my boyfriend and treats me like her little sister.
The weirdest part is that i'm not sure if this is all in my head or if she is really interacting with me in this way.
One day, i had to tell her i couldn't make it to a meeting with her since i had a doctor's appointment and she acted as if i had just canceled dinner with her parents. she huffed and puffed and i could notice the sullen look on her face...so what did i do? i had to somehow make it up to her by buying her favorite bag of chips-the terra starch cocktail chips. i constantly feel as if i'm walking on eggshells with her. Her mood swings are epic, random and devastating.
and then there is her daily constant nuances that annoy the shit out of me, the way an older sister flexes her big sister muscles to crush the little ones.
I always arrive to the office before she creeps in, then-like clock work i get a phone call from her to "...please please please bring to my car my raincoat, it's raining and i forgot it in my office..." or "....please please please, bring me a coke...(insert treat here)
oh this resonates with my own oldest sister and her constant desire to take advantage of her little sisters!
The weirdest part is that i'm not sure if this is all in my head or if she is really interacting with me in this way.
One day, i had to tell her i couldn't make it to a meeting with her since i had a doctor's appointment and she acted as if i had just canceled dinner with her parents. she huffed and puffed and i could notice the sullen look on her face...so what did i do? i had to somehow make it up to her by buying her favorite bag of chips-the terra starch cocktail chips. i constantly feel as if i'm walking on eggshells with her. Her mood swings are epic, random and devastating.
and then there is her daily constant nuances that annoy the shit out of me, the way an older sister flexes her big sister muscles to crush the little ones.
I always arrive to the office before she creeps in, then-like clock work i get a phone call from her to "...please please please bring to my car my raincoat, it's raining and i forgot it in my office..." or "....please please please, bring me a coke...(insert treat here)
oh this resonates with my own oldest sister and her constant desire to take advantage of her little sisters!
Monday, July 28, 2008
oldish newish blueish you...
Ranting #1
-The hobo doll face standing on the street corner painting rainbow on the curb, waiting for her shiny prince armored with silly promises of eternal bonds that transcends mortality to fist her down down down into a dark place where her shine is blocked by his ego and motive. Lost in the moment of fulfilling a primitive self inflicted expectation, her light dims and dims dims dims.
- Within the hallow void inside our being there is an echoing resonance of vibrating waves. These wave produce something audible…the voices in our heads have reached a point of maximum capacity. Yet…there is no real form of communication. We haven’t learned to talk yet. We are but murmurs. If you collect enough murmurs, a mere hum can evolve to a puncturing piercing pitch.
If we collect our voices we can make ourselves heard.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
spin cycle blues
in essence this virtual piece of paper was intended to capture the brilliant fleeting moments in my head...but by the time i reach the computer to document my idle cognitive waves they have been replaced by more practical ones...like my need to do laundry for lack of underwear.
human beings have an insatiable desire to create...to make sense of the unconscious tinkering that occurs almost in spite of ourselves. my need to document is a need to understand why the collective we document.
i would suspect intentionality might play a role, we intend to have a reader, we intend to pour out a few internal demons, we intend to entertain, we intend recognition, we intend to impress, well there is an infinity of reasons and most are saturated in selfish indulgences.
human desirability to create is a fundamental desire to understand oneself-yes, the eternal transcendence from flesh to soul.
this post will be edit or finished when i'm done doing my laundry
human beings have an insatiable desire to create...to make sense of the unconscious tinkering that occurs almost in spite of ourselves. my need to document is a need to understand why the collective we document.
i would suspect intentionality might play a role, we intend to have a reader, we intend to pour out a few internal demons, we intend to entertain, we intend recognition, we intend to impress, well there is an infinity of reasons and most are saturated in selfish indulgences.
human desirability to create is a fundamental desire to understand oneself-yes, the eternal transcendence from flesh to soul.
this post will be edit or finished when i'm done doing my laundry
Monday, July 14, 2008
bendable mandibles
Rubber band whistle blowers bend easily into tightness when the tension demands attention.
Mandibles mashing molecular mushy mating...still i grow impatient.
...and when I'm alone I curse my cruelty. I curse the empty verses of my ill intentions for it's timidity of going too far. I curse the zip zag jabber walkie pelvic thrust-they only like the gimmick version of the reflection of the person I pretend to manifest when i fear human interaction...it's so easy to jump into the characters.
it's so hard when people get too deep...i don't like to let people get too close.
Mandibles mashing molecular mushy mating...still i grow impatient.
...and when I'm alone I curse my cruelty. I curse the empty verses of my ill intentions for it's timidity of going too far. I curse the zip zag jabber walkie pelvic thrust-they only like the gimmick version of the reflection of the person I pretend to manifest when i fear human interaction...it's so easy to jump into the characters.
it's so hard when people get too deep...i don't like to let people get too close.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
the virtual diary
So i am now attempting to transcend into the world of the public diary or better known as "blogging." Granted i started this blog about 3 months ago so technically it's not a new attempt in my part-rather a delayed fulfillment of something that should have been successfully correctly done...or something like that. Needless to say i'll buy into the whole internal monologue made open to all deal...as a matter of fact, who the hell am i talking to?
You may poke inside my head but i'll advise even I get tired of what goes on in there....okay that was a blatant lie...i love what goes on in my head. As a matter of fact-i'd rather stay in my head then interact in the outside world...who can blame me....there is magical flying unicorns shooting croquettas out of their asses and ice cream cones that grow off the backs of frogs and musical fart angels that accidentally "slip out" at awkward moments singing their hymns with perfect pitch-all kind of shit like that is constantly playing in my head...AND they are eager for me to join in on all the fun!
I'm looking forward to the day when technology has evolved to the point were i'd only have to THINK about something and some sort of nano electronic joy stick will record and document my thoughts. Soon all existing creatures' lives will be recorded and stored in a really really big thunb drive for generations to come. If i could i'd fuck with them as much as possible creating such bizarre moments that their heads will wobble! YAY
i'd have to say this isn't a very whimsical fist entry...i guess that's why i waited so long to write something straight from my noggin...we somehow stall ourselves from actually doing something by sugarcoating actions with failure...and well, who isn't afraid of failure (probably someone who has done stuff) mmmmmmmm so much brain morsels to shoot at you...enjoy i intend to do as often as i can ...lets say, as often as i poop!
You may poke inside my head but i'll advise even I get tired of what goes on in there....okay that was a blatant lie...i love what goes on in my head. As a matter of fact-i'd rather stay in my head then interact in the outside world...who can blame me....there is magical flying unicorns shooting croquettas out of their asses and ice cream cones that grow off the backs of frogs and musical fart angels that accidentally "slip out" at awkward moments singing their hymns with perfect pitch-all kind of shit like that is constantly playing in my head...AND they are eager for me to join in on all the fun!
I'm looking forward to the day when technology has evolved to the point were i'd only have to THINK about something and some sort of nano electronic joy stick will record and document my thoughts. Soon all existing creatures' lives will be recorded and stored in a really really big thunb drive for generations to come. If i could i'd fuck with them as much as possible creating such bizarre moments that their heads will wobble! YAY
i'd have to say this isn't a very whimsical fist entry...i guess that's why i waited so long to write something straight from my noggin...we somehow stall ourselves from actually doing something by sugarcoating actions with failure...and well, who isn't afraid of failure (probably someone who has done stuff) mmmmmmmm so much brain morsels to shoot at you...enjoy i intend to do as often as i can ...lets say, as often as i poop!
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