| it's not running away if you walk |
[Apr. 22nd, 2008|05:45 am] |
“The decision to flee came suddenly. Or maybe not. Maybe I had planned it all along, subconsciously waiting for the right moment.”
Or perhaps it did? All I know is that the urge to flee is there, and it is strong. I can’t stand this place any longer, this house, these people. You can only take so much childish antics and pure stupidity before you realize that you’ve been wasting your time. Here. Time spent doing nothing, there are walls I burnt holes in with my eyes. I thought getting out of the house, getting my own place would be enough. Maybe not, maybe that isn’t enough. Maybe I need to flee farther than ten miles down the road to some apartment or trailer park. Maybe I need to get a thousand miles away. But where? I only have four months left, four more months until the end of The Deal.
The economy is shit, gas prices are high, can I afford to go? Car payments and insurance payments are my only real bills. Can I find a nice little place to go, get a nice little job? I’ve only ever really had one, seven years spent there. Doing nothing but the mindless task, am I qualified to do anything else? Could I handle it?
Would it be heartless of me to just up and leave without discussing it with my friends or family? Would they try to talk me out of it, not caring the effect it has on me? Is it callous of me to simply want to get away from all of them? To break contact and escape to that romantic place in my head that doesn’t even exist? To try to see how well I handle life? Real life, because what I’ve been doing now certainly isn’t considered life. Just motions.
Anxiety, Agoraphobia, there is no easy escape from that, a tough nut indeed. I could use some help but no one is willing to stick their hand out, should I blame them? They say God helps those who can help themselves, but I believe in no God and that very phrase pretty much says there isn’t one. So what now? What comes next?
I’ve been struggling with my inner demons for so long that I don’t even know anymore. Suffocation. I feel like I am in a prison, is it external or internal? I don’t know. What I do know is that my time here is short, unless I can find an exit. |
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| bored |
[Dec. 17th, 2007|03:36 am] |
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it is spinning and going nowhere... |
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| Come on! |
[Nov. 27th, 2007|04:23 am] |
Come on! Let's Merry-go! Merry go! Merry-go-round!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Plague nest chat haven insect dreams into white blank spaces
Purpose intersected into blank dot scattered
Non-point PROPAGANDA
Listening to the music spin spin spin into oblivion around
my
skull
Walking down the SHOT
Frankly I don’t know anymore
But the mystics are all dead
And the yearning for the losses
Is all
but
retread
and you... blank... spaces... into...
surface |
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| today |
[Oct. 21st, 2007|09:24 am] |
I was at work
I was working
when I realized
that I didn't
want to
exist
a n y m o r e |
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| Broken Neck Syndrome |
[Jul. 17th, 2007|04:11 pm] |
life is a big circle that goes around and around in the big shit filled toilet bowl known as earth. someone needs to jiggle the goddamned handle...
sometimes I feel that my own inhibitions are stretched over my face, suffocating me. sometimes I feel that there is someone behind me with a noose around my neck tugging me back. sometimes I don’t feel anything at all. sometimes I don’t sleep.
“The things you own end up owning you” - Tyler Durden
this is true, time to sell off the fat and run amok randomly with just a bag, a jacket, a hat, and a comfortable set of clothes. fuck everything else, fuck money.
I want to write a novel in two weeks and have it picked up and published immediately
I want to write an album that will hit number one on the charts without ever practicing any form of music
I want to paint pictures that will be worth millions without having to learn how to paint
I want instant gratification and I want it now.
slowly picking up a stone and examining it in my hand I know that it is just a rock. lifeless, worthless, just a stone to throw randomly. but thinking of this stone I know that one day the meat will rot off my bones and they will be just a lifeless rock in the ground. which is why I aim to be cremated and have the ashes dumped into a landfill.
I want an endless supply of cigarettes. I don’t care about lung cancer, I don’t plan to live over 30. I won’t live over 26.
I feel a shadow behind me, looming over my shoulder, snickering. I have discovered the secret of existence, it is to die. that may sound silly or stupid or some other term the cool kids use but it is true. our entire lives lead to one end, death. accept it and stop crying.
I want a bridge that doesn’t go over anything on a road that goes nowhere. I want a flowing river that goes in a circle. I want a mountain no bigger than an ant.
never mind this, time to get that hat, that jacket, the bag and comfortable clothes. sell all ownerships and hit that romantic road.
well... maybe not. |
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| I've gotta get out of here |
[Jun. 4th, 2007|06:28 am] |
I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here
I've gotta getI've gotta get out of hereout of here I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here
I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here
I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here
I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here
I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here
I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here I've gotta get out of here
I've gotta get out of here I've gotta gI've gotta get out of hereet out of here
I've gotta get... |
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| I am still looking for the answer |
[May. 29th, 2007|07:26 am] |
But I still don’t know the question
What time is it?
What year is it?
2007
Already? Has time gone by so fast?
Is this wall suppose to be here?
Yes
Good, excellent, just like I have foreseen it. Perfect.
Why do you all look the same?
Never mind, what is all of this gray matter? Grey matter, Grey Gray?
What?
Senses less of senses less hours minutes meanings of which we gave into for control measurements outlandish fiends of time basked in... what?
Are you okay?
Who is okay, okay? Part of me wants to listen and sleep and fall and weep and another wants to dive. What does this mean to you?
I do not understand what you are saying? Are you alright?
Am I? Right? No, God was just created for you so you wouldn’t feel lonely when you died. I, myself, have no need for I do not fear loneliness. Pass the word around, I think the ceiling just collapsed.
What are you talking about?
No one knows, whereabouts are the what huh get the light... get the light out of my eyes. What is that thing, a giant suppository? Oh, it is a phone, good, fine, great. What do these buttons do?
Are you sure you are alright? Can I have the phone back please I am going to call for help.
Help? Halp Pelp Felp Relp! None of those words are real! Ha! What is a word anyways and what is really real. You have nice eyes, where did you buy them?
Hold on, let me check my identity. Oh good it is still there, I thought someone might have stolen it.
I am going to call the Paramedics, you are acting very strange.
Strange as in comparison to what? The trees? They are strange, so are Mites, I think. Also strange are these glances, do you think me mad? I am the sanest one here. I also like to... Hey you are pretty, want to get grab dinner sometime? What are you doing after work? What time do you get off?
Look, just lay down and take some deep breaths, the Ambulance should be here shortly.
Malnueanceses is not a real word but I like the way it sounds.
Okay.
Hey, I am going to take a short nap, I am tried, when I wake up lets get some lunch. Do you have any hobbies?
Don’t go to sleep! Hey! Wake up! Hello! Can you hear me!? |
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| The Compass Points Beyond North |
[May. 15th, 2007|07:25 am] |
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So I have discovered the truth of death and the afterlife. The REAL truth. But I am not telling, why not? Because it would take about a million words to fully explain it all. Now how did I come into the possession of such knowledge you may ask, why it is quite simple. I was trying to go to sleep and my mind was moving at an incredible rate, so many thoughts and visions passed into and out of my head. Then WHAM a simple thought on something I read a long time ago steamrolled into The Truth of it all. Yes, that is right, just a mega-blast of thought. From this I explored and understood, but alas it changes nothing, nothing at all... |
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| A current passed into the circuit broken in a mirror |
[May. 8th, 2007|06:30 am] |
Where to start? How to start this soon to be endless rambling of nothing and everything? Oh the joyous fractions of the heart combined with the sightless mind. HA! There we go lets drop the bucket now. The sun will be up soon and there is no sign of sleep, the weather will pick up eventually and stabilize in a coarse heat. Perhaps eventually I will not send red squiggly lines on this, but I doubt it. Wait? Where was I? Oh yes, the sun and the weather and who really cares all that much but pointlessness. There are only three things in this life worth it. One is in a bottle, another in a little box with a flip-top lid--or if you prefer a soft package with tear away top. The last in in between the legs of Kate, or Alice, Jessica, Marie, Emily, Fran, Abby, the delicious uncompromiseable sweet lovely Allison, the stale Rebecca with her badly combed hair, or that wench of a middle-aged whore Jen--when she opens her legs the smell reaches for miles and miles calling all the young cats to it like catnip on carpet until she pops out another miniature version of herself who years later will do the same until the earth is overrun with these little whores begetting more whores, and of coarse there is the legendary Yokimo Black of which there was only, and ever will be, one, who is dead now buried beneath salt, clay, and dirt forevermore amen.
The sun rises and sets to the tune of the moon wakes. The best part is the last one where I forget what the fuck I was typing. But never mind these, lets focus on that! Right over there! LOOK TO THE LEFT! Do you see it? Yes sir it is the future, let me lay you out MINE. Okay for the next 21 hours I will be drinking nonstop and reading this lovely little book about my would be hero Cody--er, Neal--I will also, as I notice it now for the thousandth time, vacuum the filthy carpeted floor of this concrete asylum known as the BASEMENT. It needs a good cleaning as I have already done most of that while neglecting most entertainments and other distractions. AH but the drink, the drink the drink the drink, it pours from bottles only $6.88 for 750ml, that is a good deal my friend, let me tell you. Oh but that is just the future of the next day, what about the future of... THE FUTURE. The plan, as it were, includes a bit of writing, lots of sorting, some selling, some dumping, financial awareness, and finally the move. Oh how I long for all of this while procrastinating on my whim, my dim dim dim sad sad sad cuntless world of sorrow and bleak blankness. But shit, THE MONEY WHERE THE FUCK AM I GOING TO GET IT? Wait hold on, I need some inspiration from Mr. Dylan... OKAY a hour of this now, pouring from my speakers the familiar crone of a great musician. IF ONLY I COULD SPELL then the red squiggles would go away and stop haunting my dreams. The dreams I dream and hope for but don’t pursue because of an ability I acquired when I was but a lad, that ability being LAZINESS AND PROCRASTINATION. I guess that is two abilities not just one ability but they go hand in hand so I count it as ONE. The sad sad being of my existence and the constant consumption of my favorite liquid and the inhaling of dried tobacco stuck to my lungs in a calm puff, what would I do without thee... Prosper? Says who? THE TRUTH? Fuck it and all those other whiney hippie beatnik wannabes who know nothing of the sort. Wait, let be break this...
WATCH OUT WHAT YOU SAY! They might be watching you, ready to cut off your income for the slightest mistake that is taken out of context by racists fighting racism. Oh what? Ha ha! Yeah, you know what and who I mean I do not need to explain it, because if I do your goddamned head would explode. SEND THIS TO ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS, LET THEM KNOW HOW CRAZY AND STUPID I AM LET THEM BASK IN THE IDIOCY I DISPLAY BECAUSE I can. I see now it is 6am in the morning, I love 6am in the morning because that is when the calm of the night breaks into the noises of the day and I cannot think anymore. Yells and screams and fits from above plague me in the below. But what of it? In fifteen hours I will still be drinking and smoking my last pack and enjoying it, so fuck the swine and the water well of wishing that grants nothing but lies. The magic 8-ball and the coin have failed me too many times for me to rely on them any longer. So the fates are whores the Karma isn’t a bitch but a two legged pig being lead to the slaughter. Remember that the next time you eat pork.
Where to put this in the four little corners of the vast space of the jointed computers via wire that I occupy. Break it up or splash it? Post the big mother one place and splash the rest? Fuck yeah, why not? Nothing like confusing those who I see often, although this would go unread because they don’t check such things on a regular basis anyways. So fuck it and them and most of all YOU! and fuck grammar while I am at it. All that matters is that the words are spelled right, everything else is subjective (did I use that word right? Sometimes I wonder... wanter... ho ho ho) WAIT THE LIGHT IS NOT CREAKING INTO THE WINDOWS JUST YET these little ceiling windows that are really right below the floor, only a slight hint of light, but none as of YET.
I just read something I wrote a year ago, I will not provide a link but the thought remains the same of what I had written, maybe a little less because I was really in a deep deep fucking hole then with no one to help me out of it because no one would notice such a thing as my own personal suffering but some people will sit down next to me a try to pry me for sympathy. I DO NOT GIVE THAT OUT, not unless it is really warranted. Why you ask? Simply because I seriously doubt that they could possible feel as worse then as I do on a day when I feel UP. oh here we go again down this worthless little ramble, lets pass it up, BYE.
So what now? This is long and will go unread by all but a few, a very small few. But who cares, I felt like actually writing so here it is, in your face. Fuck you and me and all the people at the mall, all those girls wearing slut clothing but getting offended that you LOOK, HA! Stupid race of humans with their over conscience minds, and me the most guilty of all. Oh really really really? Ha! Fuck it! Here I post the entire, one other of the four gets a splash, so fuck it and the idiot who would even read it on that shit hole of a site. So off I am now, to do something else, speak more to myself rather then typing it all out, the best stuff comes in my mind then when I try to type it it comes out all disjointed and jumbled. That is the way things go in the world of NR I suppose. BYE. |
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| Once you have given up the ghost, everything follows with dead certainty, |
[Apr. 23rd, 2007|08:28 am] |
even in the midst of chaos. From the beginning it was never anything but chaos; it was a fluid which enveloped me, which I breathed in through the gills. In the substrata, where the moon shone steady and opaque, it was smooth and fecundating; above it was a jangle and a discord. In everything I quickly saw the opposite, the contradiction, and between the real and the unreal the irony, the paradox. I was my own worst enemy. There was nothing I wished to do which I could just as well not do. Even as a child, when I lacked for nothing, I wanted to die: I wanted to surrender because I saw no sense in struggling. I felt that nothing would be proved, substantiated, added or subtracted by continuing an existence which I had not asked for. Everybody around me was a failure, or if not a failure, ridiculous. Especially the successful ones. The successful ones bored me to tears. I was sympathetic to a fault, but it was not sympathy that made me so. It was a purely negative quality, a weakness which blossomed at the mere sight of human misery. I never helped any one expecting that it would do any good; I helped because I was helpless to do otherwise. To want to change the condition of affairs seemed futile to me; nothing would be altered, I was convinced, except by a change of heart, and who would change the hearts of men? Now and then a friend was converted: it was something to make me puke. I had no more need of God that He had of me, and if there were one, I often said to myself, I would meet Him calmly and spit in His face.
- Henry Miller Tropic of Capricorn |
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| the probability of now |
[Apr. 3rd, 2007|07:00 am] |
I wish I could recapture that train of thought I had a little while ago
where was it going
if only I had written it down
if only I had the presence of mind to write it all down
I wish I could encapsulate the moments that I forget
where my mind was open
the valve opened all the way
and I knew every single thing I needed to know
but those moments pass like sleek white clouds over the blue sky
they soar on and over to the next moment
inside the kettle pot they steam up and escape forever
evaporating in the wind
and all I can catch is a slight wisp of it
as it floats into the distance
and I am lost forever for it
and there is no way to recapture it
and there is nothing to do but grasp onto the little straws of it
and there is nothing left to do but...
crash burn paper mash turn monster laugh howl the circus tent falls down into the crowed
cowering in the basking rays of moon and sun the same reflection anyways
purpose moments abstract thoughts memories forgotten fun times reflections glass
purity nonsense pity laugh nondescript fleeing ions in a moment
cross stitched and wrapped around
I wish I could remember everything I need to remember
the days and nights I sat and thought
the inner discussions that led to revelations
the purposes and the points that were thrown out
I wish I could...
oh yes
I really do
but I know the future is a bleak broken shell of the past and we are
going
going
going
going
down a spiral of madness in which we can never travel back up
and I know this because
I can sense it
see it
feel it
I know this because you told me it all
you told me all of this
in a lucid dream |
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| a mission of love forgotten in the wastelands |
[Mar. 20th, 2007|06:53 am] |
splintered water emotions hate love thereafter
what is the thing that was there and is no longer
I hate you though I once loved
but now we are forever apart
and the seas laugh at my wake
and I stumble along the surface looking for something
but what it is I am not too sure anymore
oh why must I
keep myself so distant
from everyone I meet
and why is it
that I am ignored
by the only people
who could help
but what does it matter in the end
as I stand on the edge looking forward
I know it’s only a matter of time before the slip
and I do not really care about it anymore
so I release my grip
and I let it all out now
and the feeling is relaxing
so I know that the only way out is to just go
what of the moon and the stars that shine on a clear night
what of the sun and the bright blue sky
what of love and the pain it brings
and what of you and your petty little things
what of the control and the lack thereof
and what of the mission that we always dreamed of
what of the space that lies in between
the heart that loves and the brain that hates
the bones and the organs that give us life
the pieces that make up our endlessness
the part of me that just wants to die
and the part that just wants to examine the sky
and the part that just wants to curl up and cry
I forgive you but I cannot forgive myself
I know that I am broken and cannot be fixed
no amount of love or tension will ever solve this
so I am resigned to live alone amongst the trees
because in the end I know there is no hope for me
and as I lay down and try to sleep
I cannot
because your face haunts me every night
and I cannot seem to get the words right
to describe just how I feel
about how things transpired between us
but then again I think you’ve gotten over it
so it is just me
lost in my own nightmares spit
I know this is where I belong
so I will hold on just so long
as you keep pushing forward out of the dust
but please remember the time it was us
please remember
please do not forget
none of this was your fault
don’t read too much into this
but please
do not forget
that you are stuck inside me
and I cannot let go |
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| hey, I’m not dead... yet |
[Mar. 13th, 2007|08:48 am] |
there was something I wanted to post here, but I forgot what it was. I need to get out of this steel cage membrane. I need to sleep. I need to wake up. I need to think. I need to stop fucking around and get to it. to what? IT, that's what. Like the song "Epic" only I don't want it all just a little sliver.
but what? I don't know, you tell me. my head hurts lots. that doesn't matter. matter. the times are changing. but good or bad. my head hurts lots. that doesn't matter. matter.
WILL YOU PLEASE STOP LOOKING AT ME WITH THOSE EYES |
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| Ode |
[Jan. 17th, 2007|08:37 am] |
Ode
by
Arthur O’Shaughnessy
We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamer of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.
With wonderful deathless ditties,
We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample an empire down.
We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.
A breath of our inspiration,
Is the life of each generation.
A wondrous thing of our dreaming,
Unearthly, impossible seeming-
The soldier, the king, and the peasant
Are working together in one,
Till our dream shall become their present,
And their work in the world be done.
They had no vision amazing
Of the goodly house they are raising.
They had no divine foreshowing
Of the land to which they are going:
But on one man's soul it hath broke,
A light that doth not depart
And his look, or a word he hath spoken,
Wrought flame in another man's heart.
And therefore today is thrilling,
With a past day's late fulfilling.
And the multitudes are enlisted
In the faith that their fathers resisted,
And, scorning the dream of tomorrow,
Are bringing to pass, as they may,
In the world, for it's joy or it's sorrow,
The dream that was scorned yesterday.
But we, with our dreaming and singing,
Ceaseless and sorrowless we!
The glory about us clinging
Of the glorious futures we see,
Our souls with high music ringing;
O men! It must ever be
That we dwell, in our dreaming and singing,
A little apart from ye.
For we are afar with the dawning
And the suns that are not yet high,
And out of the infinite morning
Intrepid you hear us cry-
How, spite of your human scorning,
Once more God's future draws nigh,
And already goes forth the warning
That ye of the past must die.
Great hail! we cry to the corners
From the dazzling unknown shore;
Bring us hither your sun and your summers,
And renew our world as of yore;
You shall teach us your song's new numbers,
And things that we dreamt not before;
Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers,
And a singer who sings no more.
just thought I'd share |
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| dirty rabbit hole |
[Dec. 14th, 2006|02:30 am] |
fading back into
the place I tried so hard
to escape
but the comfort
was just too great
slowly crawling out
I no know other way
but to let myself
slide right
back
in
what is the
ending to all of this
I think
as I slide
and I know the answer
but I just
do not
want to
hear it |
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