Slowly been weaning myself off of you... I think it's finally here. You are quite different than I thought you were, and of course I can accept the fact that I was engulfed... engaged... taken... obsessed... reserved... but I didn't know it then. And maybe no one will ever know...
Oh Plato.
Stand up don't make a sound
Your ears might bleed
There's sweet fluorescent enemies
That live inside of me
The world moves faster than I knew
Not fast enough to not creep up on you
And the space we put between
So pull me under your weather patterns
Your cold fronts and the rain don't matter
Because the sun burns when I need it
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Dark allusions
Finally, some peace and quiet and time for me to take for myself, time to write, time to spend with the people I always forget about -- but the past ten days seem like nothing, they went by so fast and it only felt like a weekend in San Francisco, not the Burger Records Caravan of Stars Tour across the states. We started the tour and will be here for them when they come back. I haven't had enough. I've just had a taste of it and I'm fucking starving now.
I wish I could say that I've learned a lot in the last ten days, but I really haven't. My adventures were dreams made reality, and my questions stand unanswered. I was getting used to the purposeful pleasure of the aesthetic life. Sex, drugs, music, art, word, love... But after all that, I sat down to write in my journal and the same old shit came out.
Even now, after the dog walk I thought about how I would start this blog entry, something deep and dark and oh wait I remembered it. It was about I dream I had last night. It was a strange dream. I was in my math class, or I came to that conclusion because there was some kid from my LAST math class there, so I just assumed. But other funny people were there so let's just say I was in a college class, most likely from last semester since we were all buddies ol' pals. Uhm, so I showed up late (also not likely) and we had to write a poem or something about our "vacations" and I had no time to do mine. Teacher said that we were all to read ours aloud to the class. So I took my bottle of... something... and used the unpronounceable ingredients as metaphysical words or phrases in a poem about love or something. Of course, I was chosen to read and so I did and then I got a standing ovation. My teacher laughed at my words though because they made no sense. But it was excessive laughing and tears falling and breaths gasping. Descriptive verbs. I got into a conversation about those when I was on acid. I try SO HARD to avoid conversations like that when sober.... because people give me that look, that stupid look like... I can't describe it. They just don't care, but neither do I, but why can't we talk about it?
WHY!? Why anything? Why does anything matter?
I feel foundation-less all over again. I felt like I had my life together, but I never do, no one ever does. It's all a fucking illusion just like romance is. I can't eat, can't find my appetite. I can't find my source of this confusing drama. But is it? If that's all it fucking is then I'm over it. Fuck all of you, all of me, and I care about nothing I have no path for anything. None of this makes sense. I'll be happy on the road again, being no one, having nothing, doing nothing. We took this guy Bobby home from SF so he could visit Orange County for a bit. He's leaving in July again. Maybe I will go with him. He said I could. He also said how easy it is to hitch a boat ride to Europe. All these temptations. THey make me want to cry because I can't just be content in normality (of course, whatever that is, but why is it so easy for everyone else?) and be nice to my parents.
But then they say it's the little things that matter... but those are what I don't have. I am basking in a quantity over quality moment. I need someone to listen to me - for real. I need someone to love and to love me, but really. I want to undoubtedly be able to trust someone. I want to fall in love and have no worries. I'm ok with falling under that illusion because I'll be able to know. We would both know and both be ok with it. It would be beautiful.
And at the end of this... nothing has been said.
Maybe I'm just being manic. Maybe I just need a beer. Maybe it's okay if I consider myself an alcoholic because that justifies my neglect of my dog. I feel so guilty I want to cry. I am a little bit. Hot with goosebumps, cold with a sweat. I wasn't ready to come home. I got used to not having a face.
I wish I could say that I've learned a lot in the last ten days, but I really haven't. My adventures were dreams made reality, and my questions stand unanswered. I was getting used to the purposeful pleasure of the aesthetic life. Sex, drugs, music, art, word, love... But after all that, I sat down to write in my journal and the same old shit came out.
Even now, after the dog walk I thought about how I would start this blog entry, something deep and dark and oh wait I remembered it. It was about I dream I had last night. It was a strange dream. I was in my math class, or I came to that conclusion because there was some kid from my LAST math class there, so I just assumed. But other funny people were there so let's just say I was in a college class, most likely from last semester since we were all buddies ol' pals. Uhm, so I showed up late (also not likely) and we had to write a poem or something about our "vacations" and I had no time to do mine. Teacher said that we were all to read ours aloud to the class. So I took my bottle of... something... and used the unpronounceable ingredients as metaphysical words or phrases in a poem about love or something. Of course, I was chosen to read and so I did and then I got a standing ovation. My teacher laughed at my words though because they made no sense. But it was excessive laughing and tears falling and breaths gasping. Descriptive verbs. I got into a conversation about those when I was on acid. I try SO HARD to avoid conversations like that when sober.... because people give me that look, that stupid look like... I can't describe it. They just don't care, but neither do I, but why can't we talk about it?
WHY!? Why anything? Why does anything matter?
I feel foundation-less all over again. I felt like I had my life together, but I never do, no one ever does. It's all a fucking illusion just like romance is. I can't eat, can't find my appetite. I can't find my source of this confusing drama. But is it? If that's all it fucking is then I'm over it. Fuck all of you, all of me, and I care about nothing I have no path for anything. None of this makes sense. I'll be happy on the road again, being no one, having nothing, doing nothing. We took this guy Bobby home from SF so he could visit Orange County for a bit. He's leaving in July again. Maybe I will go with him. He said I could. He also said how easy it is to hitch a boat ride to Europe. All these temptations. THey make me want to cry because I can't just be content in normality (of course, whatever that is, but why is it so easy for everyone else?) and be nice to my parents.
But then they say it's the little things that matter... but those are what I don't have. I am basking in a quantity over quality moment. I need someone to listen to me - for real. I need someone to love and to love me, but really. I want to undoubtedly be able to trust someone. I want to fall in love and have no worries. I'm ok with falling under that illusion because I'll be able to know. We would both know and both be ok with it. It would be beautiful.
And at the end of this... nothing has been said.
Maybe I'm just being manic. Maybe I just need a beer. Maybe it's okay if I consider myself an alcoholic because that justifies my neglect of my dog. I feel so guilty I want to cry. I am a little bit. Hot with goosebumps, cold with a sweat. I wasn't ready to come home. I got used to not having a face.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
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