Friday, September 23, 2011

Postings of a Young Life - Ep. 1 Knoxville, A Car Accident, and the Former Love



This is from 2005.  It includes why not to do air duster, a car wreck in the rain into a tree, 2 former girlfriends, day trips to Knoxville twice, and other assorted crap.  I also suck at cutting video.  So.......awesome.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Steady-Winged Acetone

Charred whiskey slid like pedals to the floor.
My eyes gloss and stomach beckoned.
I cripple to the temptation.
Less suddenly becomes more and the light becomes too bright.
Pinching the synapse, clasping the short glass,
I make shortcomings with dreamed rememberings.
I study the tape and steal belongings which were mine to begin with.
The books misled to facts scoured to the ashen leaves.
And we continued our self-worth burning a pyre to the tempered glass.
The label had hid the noxious liquid's strength.
I had laughed with seasons of scores written to the gestures of rain drops.
We touched the eye lids of skies wanting snow upon our fields.
I, then, touching my torch once again to the salt water,
Swallow yet another faltered vague fantasy.
Promising entirely to swallow me empty.

<(^_^)>

Sunday, September 18, 2011

A trip back to high school

Something I threw together during my younger times....

Kissing Through Glass

The shelf life was enough to make you sick.  Expiration considering mentionables.  The smell of soap in your hair stood at the forefront of lasting impressions.  I would walk away from this one briskly.  Clasping sweaty dollars in my pocket, writhing at thoughts of meditation.  I stare into the moon, walk into the ocean, and forgot why I breathed. After the waves subsided, ripples tickled my toes, dripping wet.  Swinging necklaces over prisms, figuring the distance to the nearest star, I'll never see you like they did.  And you just may never see me at all...


 Wednesday, 02 February 2011

Laughing like Hell....

I had selfishly calculated interest into the thing I had loved the most.  Then I turn around and sail from it on a boat with wings, smiling placidly with glazed eyes.

In this ditch I lose myself.  Not looking just leaping.  The risk involved, nill.  There can be no yes's.

I cannot define the moment of breakage.  Simple gestures and aspects of myself which tear this paper plane.  A paper plane wet with indifference and dismality.  My darkness consumes, yet I self-destruct with a smile like an atomic bomb.  The dark night is beauty and I have always been an owl.  No denial to answer to.

And my heart becomes weak.  Lymph nodes swell with the molds of leaves.  Lungs blocked restricting the winds.  And we all have a picnic in this thunderstorm.  It is equal and true.  The scrapes are for iodine and the drinking for alcohol.

You may have caught the glint of perception from this wave; however, this beast is golden, immune, and discrete.  Just like your thoughts.  Your secrets.  Your depravity.

These days are a wet shining leaf, absolved of petty cares.  Blinking shall suffice.

There is a greater plan at work here.

Life can't be so serious if no one makes it out alive anyway.

May 21, 2009

A Handle You've Worn

I'll take my collapsible wings somewhere else
I had never seen a rainbow such as this
Mechanical filth in sulfuric acid screaming in metallic bliss.
But these were not the cries of death, yet of shame
a flowering forth of foul nectar, and necessity of such.
We could piss on our shirts for unbreakable rope, and
we would only bore a hole-hulled vessel heading towards destruction.
A last glimpse of hope in a fiery land cast towards death.

"Why grow old?", she said.

"Because the fungus permits it so." I replied.

And we lifted our heavy feet over dew-laden grass,
gulps of orange juice leaving a stout tart on our lips.
For this was much easier than explaining these failed ironies,
Accepting our own lost greatness, fall from space. Court the darkness.
Where in we formerly could escape, but now becomes our tomb.

So now the energy is devoid, we've compromised for dark energy.
A shade heavier than it's translucency would derive.

We are all empty and full at some points.



Dec 17, 2008

The Sour and the Sweet

It's not growing up that hurts, it's losing the connections you had when you were young that burn the very core of your understanding, and perspective of the world, requiring you to mature to an absurd and sometimes unhappy level.

I wish I were ignorant to the facts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gloom and gold has subsided.
She wiped her hair from her eyes.
A simple exchange of blood and dye.
A scissor cut to your paper burn.
As the daisies will have you for breakfast.
I want to run into someone like a wall of gum.
Stuck, unhindered in my pretense for adoration.
For only one person to understand these words.
Where do my intellect-seeking inhibitions end?
It must be easy for some who are blind.
For it to seem like what I say does not matter.
The blind cannot see the words, simply feel the bumps.
I'll cut that part out lobotomy style.
So that the next may have me ignorant and blissful.
Analytical behavior stand for a curse as much as an upper hand.
Only actions may explain it's wrath.



^_^


Sep 22, 2008

I want you

Some crisp involuntary notion.
And you would kiss my fingers with smiles.
I have all of the world to give to you.
But I've never seen you glancing.
I could ask and hope and then it's not sacred.
But then maybe my love hasn't been until now.
I had scarred myself and broken my own bones,
and the hole is now filled with fresh dirt and sunflowers.
I let the little bugs come outside.

And if I only got to kiss you once,
it meant I was smiling.
That the sycamores would never dry.
That you are the apple of my eye, and then?
Well, I let the little bugs come outside.
Deep, and over, and out, I let them.
They are my lawyers.  And my kisses my handcuffs.
I want you in custody too.
And your orange-flavored lips can be mine.


Aug 18, 2008

Everything is It's Wrong Place

I'm good now. I mean for real. Life is a great thing.

I'm over myself, but not under the table.

I'm looking forward to the taste of red wine.

You are invited.

Let's fucking make a ruckus and catch some fireflies.

The discarded past is a remnant of reflection wading in the waters of pious debachauery. Yet, I shall discard it. Perhaps most with it, but a few. For why else? It's the only way I'll ever be able to live sanely. And if you REALLY know me, then I think you know what I mean. Apathy is a cold strangle of sad drunks, and addicted musicians. It is needed at times, and it can become comfortable, maybe even too comfortable. But the majority of the time, it's simply smothering and restless. Like a plastic bag choking dolphins, and I was just screeching, writhing in the water, thinking "maybe if I move the right way...."

And thats bullshit. Like most of everything maybe. But it's what I've come to. Because it's true. Like the good advice I brush off, it is utterly true.

Like the crime of addiction. The crime of love. The crime of obsession.


The pathetic details should never overwrite the inauspicious ends. Fuck the details. They bring discretion at too high a level, and confuse the very fabric of what is important to you. It all seems so simple sometimes, like you can place the point at which these details became important, but the truth is it's much harder. The details can become anything, and the extent to which you will rectify them is astounding. All too abolish insecurities which are healthy. Which are normal. Which make you even give a fuck. And when you disregard those, you become a king of narcissism. The very pinnacle of self-obsessed ass. Perhaps my own perspective is biased, but I know that these things ARE true. It is simple fear at the root of it. No blame-shift. No 2nd chances. Just a sweet kiss goodbye to the wrong-doings of your former self; Or, that which you'd like to be, but are maybe just on your way.

Let's create. Maybe we can forget or just choose not to remember. Because the ends are a much better thing to remember. Too fucking sweet for anything else to matter as much.


^_^

Jun 30, 2008

And it was all half-smiles

All terrapins were choking me,
the soft gallant return to individuality.
We did not see the stars that night,
the synapse-based paint flooded our perception;
a flowing merely glowing with resonance.
As if shafts of prism-light held us into the air,
great hands for reaching nebulae.

Gold, perhaps, I could scrounge.
As if desire held no price.
A weak Thursday apparent and unseen.
We could forget our names and swallow fireflies
on hills of abalone and wheat.

I can go to sleep, but only when you break glass,
and steer the fraudulant scavengers to foul fare.
Crisp apples were the taking of our enjoyment.
The cloud, the daisy, and the firestorm.
You only die once and live but a few times.
So she spoke trapped in lenses.
Amid the bridled king of addictions.
And you shall see all half-smiles.
Subordinate rulers are the others in loathesome.

Jun 23, 2008

Open your fucking eyes.

On the ever-turning point of the government internally fucking you, I have
 more upsetting certainities.



A myth is an idea that while widely believed, is false.  In a deeper sense, in
 the religious sense, a myth serves as an orienting and mobilizing story for a
 people.  The focus is not on the story's reality, but it's function.  A story
 cannot function, unless it is believed to be true in the community or the nation.

 It is not a matter of debate, if some people have the bad taste to raise the
 question of the truth of the sacred story, the keepers of the faith do not enter
 into debate with them, they ignore them or denounce them as blasphemers.

We know that the men who were the supposed "hi-jackers"on 9/11 had their
 houses, cars, and credit cards paid for by the U.S. government.  In truth, they
 were agents.  The core of each of the twin towers were made of 47 massive steel
 columns, if the floors had broken loose from them, the core would have still been
 standing.  The creators of the bulding claim it could have withstood 4 to 7
 Boeing 747 strikes.  The only explanation which would explain a building falling
 at "free-fall" speed, are explosions.  In controlled demolitions, the core beams
 are cut at an angle, to produce a simultaneous drop of walls and "core" material.

 The beams of the twin towers are ALL cut at angles.  There were massive pools of
 metal found all around the columns. You see, 6 weeks after the drop of the
 towers, there were still hotspots documented over 2000 degrees, thats 500 degrees
 hotter than even jet fuel burns.  The official reports include nothing about
 molten pools of metal.

Through Electron Microscope analysis of the melted WTC Steel & the Iron-rich
 Microspheresin in the dust, Dr. Jones found exact traces of not only the 'Thermite'
 explosive compound, but, due to the high sulfur content, "Thermate" - a patended
 brand of thermite used in the demolition industry.


They covered up the 7 Trade Center building falling.

Building 7 has the tell-tale 'crink' in the middle of the building as it fell,
 marking that one of the support columns had been dropped, in order not not damage
 the buildings around it. The 9/11 commission report implicitly admitted that it
 could not explain what happened to this building, by not even mentioning it.

 Page 172 of the 9/11 commission:  "The U.S. government has not been able to
 determine the origin of the money used for the 9/11 attacks.  Ultimately, the
 questions is little practical significance."

It is of massive consequence.  Doesn't it matter who paid for 9/11?

When Bush and Cheney met with the 9/11 Commission, they did so only on their own
 terms:

The appeared together, they were not under oath, no press or family
 members were allowed to attend, no recording of any kind was allowed, and no
 transcript was allowed.

There is literally nothing in the 9/11 report that the Bush Administration did
 not approve of.

We can understand, therefore, that the administration, would have ignored all the
 evidence that would have pointed to the truth. That 9/11 was a false flag
 operation intended to authorize the doctrines and funds needed for a new level of
 imperial mobilization.

Nearly all terror suspects are released without charges....but thats after they
 make the front page for you to see.

Ted Gunderson - Former FBI Chief of LA, Dallas, and Memphis operations:

"The CIA is done is this country, look at what they done to us.  Look at all the
 terrorist acts that have occurred, the CIA behind most if not all of them. We had
 the marine barracks, we had our embassy in Kenya, we had Pan-Am - 103, we had the
 U.S.S. Cole, we had Oklahoma City, and we had the World Trade Center in 1993.

The informant, a 43-year-old Egyptian army officer, was given the assignment to
 put the bomb together (WTC 1993); And he went to his supervisor, his FBI
 supervisor, and said "We're gonna put a dummy-bomb in there right?" and the FBI
 supervisor said "NO! We're going to put a real bomb in there."  He was paid 1
 million for his services. Unfortunately for them, only 6 people were killed.  Not
 enough to pass legislation (anti-terror legislation), so what happened was, a
 short time later, down comes Oklahoma City, 168 people killed.  One year later,
 the anti-terror legislation, which takes away many of our constitutional rights
 and civil liberties, is passed.  And when I think about how many Americans were
 killed in New York, and believing as I do that this think was a set up job, this
 is a text-book operation that Nazis used, and they've used it over and over and
 over again. America has been suckered in one more time."

The Truth

Criminal elements within the U.S. government staged a "False Flag" Terror Attack
 on it own citizens, in order to manipulate public perception into supporting it's
 agenda. They have been doing this for years.  9/11 was an inside job.

Since Sept. 11th:

Military spending has increased by 100 billion a year in the U.S.

Nearly all the Bill of Rights have been subverted.

Two "Preemptive" Wars killing over (800,000) civilians have been waged.

....and that is just the beginning.

A fear campaign has been inaugurated.

"The world is governed by different personages from what is imagined by those who
 are not behind the scenes."

       -Benjamin Dislaeli - English statesmen 1844

"The real truth of the matter is that a financial element in the large centers
 has owned the government since the days of Andrew Jackson."

    - Franklin D Roosevelt - U.S. President 1933


Value of a dollar

What is a central bank?

A central bank is a bank that produces the currency of an entire nation.


Essentially there are two specific powers inherent in central banking - the
 control of interest rates and the control of money supply (inflation).  The
 central bank does not simply supply a country's economy with money, it loans it
 to them at interest.  Then through the use of increasing and decreasing the
 supply of money, the central bank regulates the value of the currency being
 issued.  It is critical to understand that the entire structure of this system
 can only produce one thing - DEBT.  It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure
 that out.

For every single dollar produced by the central bank is loaned, at interest, that
 means every single dollar produced is actually the dollar plus a certain
 percentage of this dollar immediately in debt.  That means that the central bank
 has a monopoly over the production of the currency for the entire country, and
 they loan each dollar out with immediate debt attached to it.

Where does the money to pay for the debt come from?

It can only come from the central bank again, which means that the central bank
 has to perpetually increase it's money supply to temporarily cover the
 outstanding debt created, which in turn, since that new money is loaned out at
 even more interest, creates more debt. The end result of this system, without
 fail, is slavery, for it is impossible for the government and thus the public to
 ever come out of the self-generating debt.  The founding fathers of this country
 were well aware of this.

"I believe banking institutions are more dangerous than standing armies...If the
 American people ever allow banks to control the issue of currency...the banks and
 corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the people of their
 property until their children wake up homeless on the continent their fathers
 conquered."

     -Thomas Jefferson 1734-1826


The Federal Reserve Act was written by bankers not lawmen.  Woodrow Wilson agreed
 to sign the act just before becoming president, in exchange for campaign support.


Later he wrote in regret:

"Our great industrial nation is controlled by a system of credit.  Our system of
 credit is privately concentrated.  The growth of our nation, therefore, and all
 our activities are in the hands of a few men...who necessarily, by very reason of
 their own limitations, chill and check and destroy genuine economic freedom.

We have come to one of the worst ruled, on of the most completely controlled and
 dominated governments in the civilized world - no government by free opinion, no
 longer a government by conviction and the vote of the majority, but a government
 by the opinion and the duress of small groups of dominant men."

    -Woodrow Wilson

Louis McFadden also expressed his concern shortly after the bill was passed:

"A world banking system was being set up here....A superstate controlled by
 international bankers....acting together to enslave the world for their own
 pleasure.  The FED has usurped the government."

    -Louis McFadden

Now, the public was told that the federal reserve system was an economic
 stabilizer, and that inflation and economic crises were a thing of the past.  But
 I think as we've seen this is most certainly false.  The fact is, the
 international bankers now have a stream-lined machine with which to expand their
 personal ambitions.

They caused the depression, by increasing money supply, then calling in thousands
 of loans.  This created panic.

"Under the federal reserve act, panics are scientifically created.  The present
 panic is the first scientifically created one, worked out as we figure a
 mathematical equation."

    -Charles Lindberg


Margin Loans were the path to the first depression.  These were loans that could
 be called in at any time, and must be paid within 24 hours.  This resulted in a
 Margin Call, and the typical result of a margin call, was the selling of the
 stock purchased with the loan.  These cause massive panic in the market, which
 cause call-ins on margin loans in mass.  This enabled conspiring national bankers
 to not only buy up smaller banks at a discount, but to also buy whole
 corporations at pennies of a dollar.  It was the greatest robbery in American
 history.  But that didn't stop there.  Rather than increase the money supply
 which would recover from this economic collapse, the FED actually contracted it,
 fueling one of the largest depressions in history.

Once again Louis McFadden, congressman and great opposer of the banking cartels
 outraged in defiance:

"It was a carefully contrived occurrence.  International bankers sought to bring
 about a condition of despair, so that they might emerge the rulers of us all."


Now, deciding to even further their strangle-hold on money, the federal bankers
 decided to remove the gold standard, but to do this, they needed to require the
 remaining gold in the system.  So under the pretense of "helping to end the
 depression", came a 1933 gold seizure, under the threat of imprisonment for 10
 years, everyone in America was required to turn in all gold bullion to the
 treasury, essentially robbing the public of what little wealth they had left.

And in 1933 the gold standard was abolished. If you look at a dollar bill before
 1933, it says, it is redeemable in gold. You look at a dollar bill today, it says
 it is legal TENDER. Which means it is backed by absolutely nothing.  It is
 worthless paper.  The ONLY thing which gives our money, is how much of it is in
 circulation, therefore, the power to regulate the money supply is also the power
 to regulate it's value.  Which is also the power to bring entire economies to
 their knees.

"Give me control of a nation's money supply, and I care not who makes the laws."

    -Mayor Amschiel Rothschild, Founder of Rothschild Banking Dynasty

It's important to clearly understand, that the Federal Reserve, is a private
 corporation.  It's about as federal, as Federal Express.  It makes it's own
 policies and is virtually no regulation by the U.S. government.  It is a private
 bank, that loans all the currency at interest to the government.  Completely
 consistent with the fraudulent banking model the country sought to escape from in
 the Revolutionary War.

Now lets remember the Federal Income Tax.  It's worthwhile to point out that the
 American public's ignorance to the Federal Income Tax is a testament to how
 dumbed down and oblivious the American population really is.

First of all, the Federal Income Tax, is completely unconstitutional, as it is a
 DIRECT, UNAPPORTIONED tax.  All direct taxes must be apportioned, to be legal,
 according to the constitution.  Secondly, the minimum number of states in order
 to ratify the amendment, was never met.  This has even been cited at modern
 court cases.  Third, on average 25% of a workers pay is taken via this tax.  And
 guess where that money goes?!  It goes to pay the interest, on the currency being
 produced by the fraudulent Federal Reserve Bank.  A system that does not have to
 exist at all.

The money you make, working almost 3 months out of the year, goes almost
 literally into the pockets of the international bankers who own the private
 Federal Reserve bank.

And fourth, even with the fraudulent government claim as to the legality of the
 income tax, there is literally no statute, no law in existence, which requires
 you to pay.

The income tax is nothing less, than the enslavement of the entire country.
 WWI cost 30 billion to America, all borrowed from the Federal Reserve Bank at
 interest.  This resulted in a marginally high profit to international bankers.

 Pearl harbor was known about.  As we've seen, nothing is more profitable to
 international bankers, than war.

Important Fact:  Nazi Germany's war effort was due possible to I.G. Farben, they
 produced over 84% of Germany's explosives and even the ZYCLON B used in the
 concentration camps. One of the unspoken partners of I.G. Farben was J.D.
 Rockefellers U.S. Standard Oil Company in America, in fact the German air force
 could not operate without a special additive patented by Rockefeller's Standard
 Oil.

The Union Banding Corp. of New York City also financed numerous aspects to
 Hitler's rise to power along with actual materials during the war.   Guess who
 the president of the bank was at that time? Prescott Bush, our current
 president's grandfather.  Keep that in mind when considering the moral and
 economic decisions of the Bush family.

 The sinking of the PT boats at the start of the Vietnam war, was a completely
 staged event in order to get us into it.  Many officers have come forward since
 then and said plainly it was "a contrived farce".  A complete lie.
 The war went on so long, because it was never meant to be won, just sustained.

War for profit.

So where are we now?

9/11 was no different than a staged war-pretext in order to initiate one no
 different, than the sinking of the Lusitania in WW1, the provoking of Pearl
 Harbor, And The Gulf of Tonkin Ly.  In fact if it weren't a pretext for war, it
 would be an exception to the rule.  It has been used to launch two illegal,
 unprovoked wars, one against Iraq, and one against Afghanistan. However, 9/11 was
 also the pretext of another war, the war against you.

The Patriot Act, Homeland Security, The Military Tribunals Act, and other
 legislations are all completely and entirely designed to destroy your civil
 liberties and limit your ability to fight back against what is coming.  Read the
 Patriot Act and tell me what it says?

A lot can happen to you just under the 'hunch' of you being a 'terrorist'.  There
 is a whole hospital in Europe even, where they cater to nothing but American
 torture victims.

If you think this is something new, lets remind ourselves of how history repeats
 itself.  Hitler staged a 'False Flag' attack on his own building, burning it down
 and saying it was an act by communist terrorists.  After that he passed a bill,
 completely eradicating the German constitution, destroying peoples liberties.  He
 then led a series of pre-emptive wars, all justified to the Germany people as
 necessary to maintaining HOMELAND SECURITY.



"An evil exists that threatens every man, woman, and child of this great nation.
 We must take steps to ensure our domestic scurity and protect our homeland."

George W. Bush?

No.

Adolf Hitler - when announcing the Gestapo to the people

It's time to wake up.


The people in power go out of their way to make sure that you are perpetually
 misled and manipulated.  The majority's perception of reality, especially in the
 political arena, is not their own.  It is shrewdly imposed upon them without them
 even knowing it.  For example. most Americans think the invasion of Iraq is going
 badly. But what the public doesn't see is that de-stabilization of Iraq is
 exactly what the government wants.  This war is to be sustained.  So the region
 can be divided up, domination of the oil maintained, continual profits reaped for
 the defense contractors, and most importantly, permanent military bases
 established, to be used as a launching platform against other oil-bearing,
 non-conforming countries, such as Iran and Syria.

You know I can't do it for you.  I can sit  here and type for hours.  You won't
 listen to me.  I am no one.  Watch the movie "Zeitgeist". Watch the move "Network" from 1976.  Let it show you what you don't want to believe. I'm off.  I tried to tell you.  Learn.  GET MAD!!!!!!!!!


You'd better wake up and understand that there are people guiding your life and
 you don't even realize it.

There are even open border policies that you don't even know about.  Canada, Mexico, and the United States are all one country now.  If you don't know what this is, You just wasted all of your time reading this.



^_^  


Jun. 15, 2008

Why your Abercrombie will KILL you

It seems I’ve always known when you say yes, but never when to say no.

As is solving the ever-undemystifiable problem of the incomplete self, would
 yield answers.

These days, it’s easy for someone to die and for us to put someone in a grave and
 thats it.

Former man would ’understand the dead’, as it were. Keeping The Dead in mind in
 daily life, atleast in an idyllic sense.

You are going to die. It’s O.K. You are going to die. But why? To me, in my
 fuck-slosh of imbalanced chemicals I call a brain, it just seems intrinsically
 unfair to not enjoy this. This sea of moment. Essence of life. Forever. I am so attached
 to this barrage of familiar, that I realize no matter how much I have faith in
 one religion, I’ll eternally be haunted by the unfamiliar. Ahh yes,
 intrinsically human.

Every moment you are breathing, you are taking in some of what’s around you. You
 walk outside, you are breathing in rock, tree, grass, dirt, and whatever else is
 around you.

Let’s cut off a finger of thought though. The term would be Off-gassing. This
 very real and apparent danger to society is when certain solids and liquids are
 made from products which have materials in them that will readily evaporate,
 creating gasses which are extremely carcinogenic.

Suddenly, it goes from trading your car in every year for a brand new one, to
 ending up with some rare-ass form of cancer at 45 and wondering why. What you
 didn’t realize were all of the dyes in the upholstery, the fixatives for those
 dyes, the suspenders for dyes, all the various forms of plastics, and the paints.
 Real quick you begin to see how many things in your world are actually unsafe.

Including many plastics used in common daily, household, and work-related items.

Exceedingly toxic items are materials used in building mobile-homes and other
 various types of residential units.

But, lets be honest, a lot of us never had a chance. When you were born, you
 were instantly placed next to fresh, new, plastic, painted, dyed,
 mass-manufactured, and fixatived: toys, linens, and diapers.

Remember that "new car" smell? Poison.

Taking a stroll through the interesting sense-provoking wood section at Lowe’s?

Poison.


Our new technological, sell-fast lifstyle doesn’t appear too utopic to me. We
 seem to be the generation to see our parents go through cancers. Perhaps the
 generation before me too, it’s not that many years.
 The phrase "live life for the now", never seemed so meaningful.
 Yeah we will all die. And it’s ok. But damn. Our world is our own toxic soup?
 What a shit deal man. I swear, I’d own a damn island. And just live there. But
 who can stop it. Im as dead as you. ^_^ But I love this life very much. Just
 keep in mind, what you are buying and how you are living. It’s quite common to
 underestimate your own death; Or, better yet, to cause it far earlier than was
 needed.
 And if you aren’t having SOME kind of fun. Atleast you can breathe.

^_^


Apr 8, 2008

Stark Saturday Blasphemy

I think I'm taken far less serious now.  Like some verocity about my personality has somehow vanished.  Ironically I feel just the opposite on the inside.

I think I'm one of the few people who atleast make some attempt to hang out with the people I stay connected through myspace with.  Granted, I slide back.  It might be inconvenient at one point.  But I cannot recall how many times I post some bulletin, offering free party materials, a place to stay, and some company; and yet it seems as though everyone is so busy.  It would only lead one to believe that perhaps no one is as bored as I am.  Regardless of validity, in my own head, how would I know different?

Here, another saturday, I wait to get numbed out of my skull.  Liquid and smoke completing my dinner of champions.  And likewise, an entire packet of smokes, what a night this will be.  More writing songs in drunken stupors.  Masterpieces of audible art I create with flicks of my fingers, more often than not a drunken I produces quite formidle music.  And tonight shall be no different, I callibrate.

And in knowing I would do this, I supposed I would try to invite someone.  For I play these songs for no other reason.  Except for someone to hear them.  Often I end up alone, mics on, guitar revved, tamborine under my feet, ready to blow up the world.  Or just fall into it.

Self-medication is beyond overdescribed among people who indulge in counterculter activities.  There are millions of kinds of drug users.  The person looking for a good time, catching a buzz.  The guy down on his luck, 'self-medicating'.  And sometimes there are those so stuck on realistic, logical thinking, that rationalization will have them believing it doesn't matter.  Because it's easy to feel good if you know there is nothing you can do about the most important things.  Selective ignorance.  Passive realization.  And perhaps the keen sense of opulance.

Expectng more makes me feel undeserving.  Like a murderer forgiven by the family.  Perfectionism devours my ambitions, though more.  Falling short isn't losing the lottery, it is such of nuclear explosions and ailing dreams.

The do or die time is trying.  It is looking at us all, I feel, with this expression that says, "I am in control." The utter ignorance that the possibility of bliss is. Some concerns I have dropped completely.  As such a thing should happen when we become a bit smarter, or blooms wisdom, or churns innovation.  The seeking of enlightenment in this life is all the first stage.  And I am nowhere near even that.  Im just some dude on a fucking cloud, checking out the scene through the fence.  

^_^ haha 


Jan 19, 2008

Tower shields and imperial tunics; Falchions to harm myself with

I want to be psychic.
I miss my childhood friends.
I wish I could cry at all anymore.
I will be someone completely different one day.
I miss the ocean.
I miss love.
I want things which are unattainable.
I see things from skewed perspectives.
Sometimes I want to press stop on this tape.
But I never do.
Im currently trying to piece myself together.  As usual.
I already know who I'm to be.
I lose things alot sometimes.
I have the memory of an elephant about certain things.
I have the intellect of a bee about others.
The most advanced medicine has the most basic ingredient.
Ambient music moves my soul beyond words.
Wisdom makes you greater than you are, and deader than you are.

Feb 2, 2007

The laughter had receded.....

The laughter had receded all too well as we moved closer to the door with bags in hand.  The thick stench of regret had left a less-than-visible green tint on our place of residence.  The dew in the grass now pined for greater places to hang themselves, as they dried and their enemy the sun would rise high.  We walked on.  No more giving looks to the street people pushing their carts, putting out their cigarettes, and laughing about their merry failures.
We had considered this place dead.  An aqueduct for our pain.  The reservoir of what we once knew to be true, but still only kept left to confusion and contempt.  As we opened our doors to the chariot that would take us far far from this place, I envisioned you.
A mile away you felt for I could not smell your sweet perfume on the wind any longer.  All I saw was the tail of your dress, a mile away, the wind whipping past your windswept hair; and all I could do was laugh, for in this vision I was running towards you.  As if you were slipping from me at some unreachable distance on foot.  That mile away, too long for the split seconds in my mind you were there.  But you are beside of me now.  In this car.  We are starting the engine and turning the key and not looking back.  What we use to know is something shivering and cold, like a small hungry child in the street, in the winter on an empty stomach.  You look at me and smile.
 "Where will we go?"
I shuffle my feet, ready to apply gas and accept the decisions we so often do.
"Where ever this car will take us."
I lurch forward in this box of metal and wires and plastic and luggage, and make my way to the highway.  That rudimentary, redundant monster which can provide you everything or nothing.  The greatest love of your life or the deepest horrors of your imagination.  New towns will never solve us.  We sleep in our problems and live in our glory.  All too aware of our faults without confronting them.
I want to write a book. I don't write according to english rules though.  I write as it is supposed to read.  Suppose I'll care not for the corrections and live for the meaning.  Problem #1


+_+



Nov 6, 2006

flavors of love, seas of paramour.....

Have you ever loved someone for a whole day? In such a way that you knew it would be possible for you to love them if given the chance, even though you never are. Loved everything about them for that period of time?  I totally think it's possibly to.  Even if you knew if couldn't work out for whatever reason, and maybe you want it to.  But then you'd just have to settle on loving them in those moments.  I don't mean a one-night stand, I mean really loving who the person is.  Loving their soul.  These are the greatest untold love stories.  What if?  just what if?  But then aren't we all waiting for our "angel" to come and rescue them?  Out of the blue.  Out of the skies.  Perfect in everyway, and waiting there for us like a christmas present under the tree........there is always more than one "ones" out there for us, it's all dependent on how much you can give and take.  Sacrifice and hoard.  My greatest flaw, loving too much, and never actually attaining love.


Oct 15, 2006

If you know me....

I've made alot of mistakes in my life.  I am actually OK with that.  Mistakes can be good.  You can sometimes get the most rewarding experience just by having something bad happen to you.  Kind of like love, or sometimes maybe losing a job.  All part of that same extreme of an emotional vein.  Again, that bittersweetness. 

Fuck the mistakes.  Fuck the regrets.  Now is my time.  For anyone at my age, it is their time.  And for people who are older, it was and still MAY BE their time as well.  It is your prime, your time to complete and set up the things and goals you want to achieve in your life.  And so here we are.  It's time to have loud conversations in places I've never been; time to ride in backseats of cars at night with the windows down and my mouth open, singing all of the words;  time to drive fast, without regret, towards the only thing you could ever hope to aspire or achieve.  Highest possible potential output.  A Firecracker.  Time to throw change at drunkards sitting in gulleys and alley ways of streets I do not know the name of.  Time to play acoustic songs at night on sidewalks covered with people most faithful to being a night owl. Fuck getting change in the case, play to play.  Time to write a postcard from a town,  not so far away.  Maybe then after that, a town very far away.  Kiss it, seal a  piece of yourself with everything.  Never give in to the illision that things aren't possible.  That all is lost.  That I've completely fallen.  A gust under wings ideas are.  Time to bleed from some minor cut which happens at the expense of an excellent memory.  Forget living.  Absorb life. We only "live" in our pasts and in our futures.  What about "living" in the present, right now.
Time for taking pictures of first time occurences and remembering them forever.  Sweet smells, sad faces, light hearts, and bright lights.  All of the imaginations of a dreamer.  Complacent in all aspects, BUT consciousness.  Time for heavy looks towards strangers I don't know,
 in love with the world and it's sad, great possibilities. 
Time for eating in some random restaurant across town, glancing out windows wondering, glancing at girls faces.  Piercing my eyes, more gazes than one.  Content with all of the facts.  Kissing the air.  Running and shouting.  Chasing you in the snow.  The mixtures of everything and nothing.  The mixtures of you and me, sea air, and straws for our drinks.  Forget your sandals on my floorboard,  let the sand on your legs dry and flake from your skin.  The sun hot but the nights bold with dark and yet swallow my sins.  My mistakes.
Drink up this night and wither my days.  For our pictures of seas and attendance of plays.

^_^


Sep 11, 2006

Dead Poems and Fashioned Photographs

While pistols chewed bullets of cigarette smoke and lipstick, I closed the door to the helping hand.  Better this than the fire-grate of wealth protruded by witless mishaps.  She had seen the better in me, and I had melted the ocean's seas for better winters upon the shadows.  It meant nothing.  For years from now, faces with smiles, seemingly frightened but aware, would crowd intellect, cherish blame, and curse ambiguity.  Lest we forget, our minds are but -scapes to throw clay upon.  The pill had it's piteous revenge, a blank corner wrenching advice, as if spit had value.  We all call upon angels, of course to be sure, we make them devils, vice swearing claim upon weak-minded playing cards.  Lands which had seen the war knew nothing of it's beauty.  Clues to fantasy had left stories unsure of their self-awareness.  And so remembrances are Soma, a tab to keep warm, a tab to blink free, a tab for drops of insomnia gleamingly pure of sodium.  Cue the message for immediate streaming.  Seeing through is more important than looking in.  Towers blaze twilight farther than reaching gazes.  The haze far worse than any mice would dare sweep.  Mimes pieced together paper houses, forgetting their streets.  A street light for fashioned photographs.  And so we keep to the green-lined streets, capitalist communists; and while we swore they knew more of gifted children telling wise men tales, our beds were comfortable with the soft touch of dead poems.

Aug 1, 2006

Where laughter meets slaughter....

I started to sit up a long time last night looking over my "friends" profiles.  Four cups of coffee and 5 cigarettes later I come to the realization that many of my "real" friends have moved or Im not involved with anymore.  I miss them. I miss the connection of being completely free around those people.  The freedom from persecution, from hesitance.  Now looking back,  I have come to understand that feeling that free is a thing of the past.  Growing up has alot to do with that.  And I am by no means there, I am just closer than many and behind most.  I still have alot of ways to go.

And STILL even thinking about it, a feeling that free is the freedom of the child.  A being not old enough to have a whole variety of skeletons in their closet.  A being free from having a conversation feeling hindered because of those lurking underthoughts that are kind of there, and kind of not.  In some ways the essence of being ignorant is quite blissful with it's own set of agenda.  In some ways all adults are the opposite.  We find these holes to put our persecutions of people in, so that we may see the good in them.  And then sometimes, just sometimes those persecutions come out to say hello and change your mind in a way that you can't quite describe.
And graduation, walking out that door and into an actual life, instead of a state mandated one, I felt nothing.  Nonchalant about anyone I had just completed this accomplishment with.  Unaware of which of them would die in the next 5 years, where they'd go, what they would see, who they'd meet, or what they would become.  The severance package that comes along with college is just about as good as celery and tabasco sauce.  The entrance into a world you may hate or you may love.  The people you grow to despise or cherish. Most importantly, the experiences you have.  And when it's all said and done with, you can look back, and claim you didn't miss a beat, you were on cue.  Or maybe you weren't.
I talk to about 2% of my friend list on a normal basis, that HAS to stop.  Involvement can teach, as well as annoy.  But annoyance increases patience.  So I only lose on the aspect of time, where it is in my favor because of youth.  I cannot pretend to know more than I do,  nor can I accept showing stupidity when it is not the core of my being.  All we can ever do is try.  For what?  Your guess is as good as mine.

Jul 31, 2006

A Perfect Circumference

After dark's swollen eye opens upon us
the scattered light bleeds our souls into graves
the steadfast dead, an audience for eternity
we play our songs for no payment to the ferryman
The littered water's refractions take no second look
Their ripples reward walls, their faces luminescent
Mutations stalking will seeming prevelant
We sell our souls for no payment to the ferryman
Tin-plated angels, compilated past unfounded
Regret of 60 years finally sounded
Stattered, stuck sorry breaking state
beyond time and behind the mask of fate
my endearments consolation to collapse
the folding, golden temperament must relapse

Feb 5, 2006

The Blog to End All Blogs

I've spent my entire life listening to music. Anymore, I don't really know what songs I want to hear. I find it hard to put my finger on one particular moment that a song might fit, something that use to come so easily. It seems that as many ways as there are to have thought processes, there just aren't that many ways to live. You can think in colors, words, metaphors, pictures, and tons of other ways. But you can't live in those ways. You can't live in dreams. You can't live in beautiful moments. You can't experience something as beautiful as you would like it to be experienced. You can only live. You can only expect the worst or expect the best. Taking a chance everyday simply by walking out of your front door. We now live in a world overrun by not thinking. Mediocrity is king. The things which made something so special and so sacred to one individual is now tarnished and burnt. Now we only have dreams. The dream of one day being completely comfortable and without struggle. A dream that is still just a dream. Now, it is pointless to be abstract. You are the dog being thrown into the middle of the ocean. When is it that you will tire out with no land to swim to and die? When is it when you will reach the highest peaks of your individual glory and contently fold to the hands of time? For most that will never come. A very smart person once said, "To be is to live. To dream is to be a fool." There are no true answers to any abstract questions. You can't expect anything less from something as unreliable as humans. We are beings that relentlessly toil on the superiority of ourselves. Constantly trying to prove who's dick is bigger. In the end there is no salvation. Each person dies and goes out believing what they wanted to believe. All of their thoughts, desires, needs, now never existed. They are gone. It suddenly occurs to me that involving the importance of human life, one person is nothing. One is really nothing. Only when we are confronted by massive numbers of human death are we even shaken a bit. And even then it is only an event. There are some out there trying their damnedest to stop it. But that just simply goes against nature. It is natural to die, whether you die naturally or not. It is natural to exist and then not exist. Because it is cycle. Something this world prides itself on. There use to be so many ideas and images and experiences I craved for the mere sake of beauty. To have something which has no meaning. Beauty has no meaning. Simply an object of adoration. How depressing to realize that your greatest desire is meaningless. I use to search for those moments of beauty in life so hard. But my searching is done. I realize that you can't find them. They don't exist. You can only think them. And in that mode of thinking, you are living apathetically. It's like always looking on the bright side of things, apathetic. Whether not admitting it makes someone feel better or not, it's apathetic, as is always taking the negative side. Every thinker and philosopher tries to justify themselves in any way, shape, or form. But thinking on any one path is leaving crucial elements of other paths out. The mind is always in a box. Because even thinking outside the box is still inside the box. I've come to believe that everything is indescribable. The words we use are symbols to denote things. They DO NOT define things. One day might be windy to one person and breezy to another. Even the words I use to write this sentence and the ones before it cannot truly describe what I think or feel. They can only give a piece, and shady, jaded piece of what I truly try my best to express. I honestly don't know what I wanted this blog to be. Perhaps I just needed to say somethings. There are so many moments where I am just out of words, I have nothing to say. Maybe this was simply the catching up of that. Regardless of order, regardless of conciseness, it still has no direct meaning. Kind of like life. 


Nov. 25, 2005

Sometimes.....

There is nothing worse than having the satisfaction of knowing you were wrong.  Sometimes you want something bad, really bad.  And time passes, and you keep wanting.  So you begin to develop ideas of how it might be to have what you want.  Playing with all the do's and don'ts of your desire.  And, sometimes, eventually, you get it.  But sometimes it isn't at all what you wanted.  Or you wanted it, but not like it came to you.  Like getting to finally have that Ferrari you always wanted parked in your garage, except you can never drive it.  and so, Sometimes, you just have to say fuck it.  Live under your desires.  Cut off what you really want.  Breath in the poisoned air.  And then you might ask yourself,  do I still really want it?  Sometimes, just sometimes, I would have to say that I do.
How can you tell yourself not to jump at what you crave for?  How can you take someone else's advice when you know in your own mind that what they're saying doesn't fully apply to your situation?  You simply can't.  Because being human won't let you.  And if you can, then you've reached some level of enlightenment.  Congrats.  But that little spoiler wont stop you from regretting.  Nothing can.  Because if you hold no regrets, then anything you've ever lost was never valuable to you.  And that's the truth of the matter.  When you lose something you love more than yourself,  you will regret, and if nothing at all, you'll at least regret lost time.  Because that's something we are all losing to.

Fuckshit,

Corey


Oct 18, 2005

A Smile on Something New

A smile on something new... So much time had passed. But I knew these times were coming. The times when you explode from your center and jump into life. Ride in cars with your windows down and take in the scenery and breathe in the air. The time when you shed your insecurities and go forth. And all of the perfect people are there to do this with. Every wheel is in place. Every cog on balance. It's like clockwork. Not so far away are those moments where new pictures breath life into my memories. What has happened was only the primer for what will become, and for a new roller coaster of growth and loss. I am breathing in, and exhaling. Taking my every a possible moment to enjoy, learn, and live. Now is the time to foster knowledge, to achieve the dreams your are on the path to achieving. I take a glance at the steps preceding the ones I am standing on. I laugh every time a thought lies on what it took to get here. Whats funnier is the time. Who knew where it went. It dissipated like lens flares in sunset camera-work. The sun shines on the moments now. It's all an adventure. Like having a full tank of gas and driving where your finger falls on the map. Always some new mistake to laugh at; always another film to go and see. More memories. Better relationships. More money. Less fighting. More production. Soft kisses. Cool weather. Everything in the world is already there. It was never there to achieve, just to be. The fun of it all is just to get to it. To truly surpass yourself. To go beyond what you had thought you were made of. To seek beneath the level and out of the box. To truly commit to a place of being, and forgiving the misgivings. It's life. It's that one little thing. That one thing that says, "This is it, this is you, you have to run. You have to chase it. GO!!" You have to chase it. It's yours.


Sep 5, 2005

Ramblings of a Borderline Personality Disorder

Honestly, looking in the mirror will make you more of a man/woman than anything. It always seems like it's those times we stop and examine ourselves, can we know even more about others around us. Or sometimes the opposite. Sometimes, we bottom out and become something we always were, we had just denied it the whole time. We finally accept what or who we are and understand that unless we break our backs to do so, there is technically no changing it. Sometimes, we journey out, putting our throats on the table, and unsuspectingly get it cut. We make assumptions leading nowhere but to our own ignorance and self-unawareness. We live in many worlds at once while it's occupants only perceive one. It's quite easy to forget the focus of your life while constantly focusing on the extremities of modern society. Often, we are crumbled by something. We wait in the dark searching for light, only to take a step and discover there isn't floor where there once was, only other various sized holes. At times, our heads are in the clouds and we could give beauty to a nation. We implode upon our inner-self with vast expressions of meaningful thoughts. Even at times of great elation, there is a constant nagging feeling somewhere within. It cannot be remedied. It is like when you are enjoying yourself and something always happens to screw it up, the feeling rears it's ugly head and you are left with disdain. A kind of bitterness untouched by the better side of you. Out of all of this comes resolution. You begin to go over your dreams, again and again, until you are so focused on what will happen after that instead of just getting there. Sometimes our hearts spread in so many directions that even taking a path seems pointless. There is always something you'll leave behind and miss, a part of yourself you cannot deny, yet cannot envelope yourself within. There are too few hours in the day to accomplish what you want, like a man who has been stabbed crawling on his stomach to a hospital only 300 yards, simply not enough time. There is no general meaning to life. Nor can there ever be. We all are just beings of light and movement constantly re-evaluating our present situation to adapt to our experiences. We build conceptual realms within ourselves to further progress our individual ambitions and wishes, never (even if we do something for another out of kindness) do we try to further progress the whole. Even charities are benefiting a specific section of this populated rock. There are never really answers to anything of which can be certain. Only possibilities spiraling within a constant preparation that we create. Facts are points of views from states of mind pertaining to specific concepts and environments. Opinions are the only truth short of adhering one's self to an idea. Marriage, commitment, love, hate, they are all ideas, bred to try to explain how hormones and enzymes react within us. Modern science is hardly capable of explaining the brain fully, as it still has little concrete information. Sex is a drug we use to deepen our assumptions of a relationship, even if the relationship is of very little substance. Rarely are there instances of pure expression and expressive peace coming from us. For to live that way would outcast the individual from his/her peers. A constant reminder to live.

May 10, 2005

Typical

Treading loudly upon footsteps, printing omniscient sand flakes upon faces of dandelions. Ill-fated attempts is where they lye, and when they are through, the sun swallows them. Completely, extrovertly, tragic, are the subjective views of such. Those who would contend wish for ground bones while they receive full-circle rainbows colored with pastels from puzzle boxes. Their drawers ornately drawn, appearing as it two-dimensional, yet brings shades of stained-glass and windpipes. The beats of sound which spring forth would materialize in implosions in the ocean, the rapid interjections all too synchronous. Triangle will accept square when it's composition becomes aware, but then again, why so arbitrary? Are the despised not respected, yet still, as someone who is despicable? Dreamers have desire in the left hand, perfection on the mind, and fantasy in the right hand; as utter irony would have it, all in vain. If one were to take every graceful/beautiful moment in his/her life and condense it onto a tape, he/she would have the length of a modern feature film. ¿Typical 

Feb 25, 2005

Philosophy twinged with Bullshit

I had felt at ease with the sudden comfort that I had been lying to myself. Usually, drastic measures might've been taken to avoid this, but as of late, this is false. There is no such thing as a comfortable numbness, at least when you're not high. I don't smoke pot anymore. The legal system felt that it would interject my self-indulgence of something to ease my isolation with entertainment. After a while, you feel unabridged in some kind of strange completeness. Not like a veil being lifted, but like looking at things systematically instead of arbitrarily or with a calm mellowness. There seems to be more order, but to a person who is at the opposition of order (left-handed as hell) it only works to other people's confines and not my own. Eventually you come to the realization that people aren't really people and reality isn't really reality. The truth is this lies in the fact that a person's mind conjuring up a hallucination is no different than it actually happening. Why? Because your body knows no difference. Therefore, life could just as well be called a lucid dream, not in actuality but in metaphor. To all of time, our lives are dreams, little pieces of nothings that fade out, except we don't get the glory of something so beautiful that the star does, the nova. If we do, it lies in our realizations before we die, and that's even taking into consideration that we make it that far. Most die before their time, never even knowing the spoils of the emaculate endorsement wisdom offers. But in truth, wisdom, like all things, is subjective and can never be truly accounted for. No matter which way you measure it. All of life is simply particles bouncing and playing out an existence, if the world hasn't shown much, it has at least shown us that. We think we are so advanced when really only our technology is, ancient Greeks were just as advanced as we are. The tragedy is that most never aim nor acheive their true potential, it isn't something to care enough about, supposedly. Then again if we live to actually LYE on our death beds, we finally understand that we wished we would have. You can just smell the irony in that one. People with a love for history claim that it's important to know so that we do not make the same mistakes again. These people are hypocrites and obviously have not picked up what has happened over time. The human race has illustrated that it does repeat the same mistakes, after all, we are beings of repetition. The only living thing escaping this cliche are a form of subatomic particles which move at random, always and forever, until they dissipate. Collectively, the only truth, is untruth. It matters not whether opinions differ between two or agree among millions, it all spawns from one or either simultaneously (or very close to it, mind you) a few and then spreads. Although, this is by no means the only way ideas spawn or come into place. The many cultures of the world pride themselves on their customs, but then are reluctant to be open minded to others. Simply put, they are too blind to realize that truth IS based upon culture as with morality and all the other things so many hold so close to their hearts without acceptance of others beliefs. Noone ever said they had to accept them for truths, but just live with the fact that someone believes differently. Perhaps this is what has kept us at a gradually declining point in human civilization. The constant struggle among one another. They miss the point that, today, it is no longer a matter of defending territories for a herd of buffalo, but a matter of importing and exporting what your lands already have and produce. Yet, as with all humans it is instinct that drives us to attempt to supersede one another in an endless spiral of no progress. That is why like all species and like all human civilizations of time, the human race will die out. If evolution would have it, we will be reborn again one day. Individual truth, Individual spirit, Individual mind. The mouse WILL destroy the lion.


Feb 24, 2005

She May Very Well Cost Me the War.....

She had been passed eyes from a mother of formidable opinions, a constant reminder to never chew with her mouth open. Sentiments broke through and palpated the black mass fronting as a heart imposter. It was never chance that endorsements of personality ever escaped her grasp. A foe could even sense the aroma of sudden virtues stingingly accurate in their portrayal of a young woman. Her senses were cleansed by salt-water, left for the sun to be her falling star in a world all too needy of heat; the grasping of warmth (a sin) to cause explosions within hail storms. Had her ego been reluctant to hesitate, the outcome would have assuredly been disasterous. It was stolen by hands reaching into themselves for fingers too ingrained in wanting. The pockets continue to increase in depth, yet weaken in strength. Her considerations fared well upon the sea of mountains. Could we suppose she had ended too early, forgotten too soon? Or spied eagerly, and thus being resilient of humble remarks, grew to the faint whispers drowned by screams in locked drawers? -to my infatuations and the luck that their ambitions are not mine LOVE IS PATHOS 

Feb 20, 2005

The Smoker's Lounge

I have always found the idea of a cigarette, romantic in specific ways. The flame consuming the finely-cut pieces of tobacco, as they twist and char, like a knotted tree being taken by the flame. The paper receding as if sworn to uphold a dying nature, all too reminiscent of perennials. As the drag closes it's proceeds, the lips part, leaving a string of smoke to dissipate into thin air in an act of finality. If there were to be a smoker's lounge, the vibe might be club-like, yet calm. The people there would introduce themselves by, in some way, either offer or asking for a cigarette. No grand gestures to be made, the simplicity would overwrite tendencies to be rash or lewd. The place wouldn't be completely filled with smoke. There would just be casual conversations and meetings hanging on the smoking of a cigarette at leisure. Not only for smokers either, however the usual nonsmoker probably wouldn't come to a place like this. I don't know where this idea came from. I suppose it's another contraption I toy with inside of my head. 

Feb 15, 2009

Life.....rant by someone....me

In life we often float, encapsulating what we decide are good moments and memories. We may walk outside on a windy day to discover leaves blowing across pavement has a marvelous sound to it, or the way a certain tree sways with the breeze appears completely interesting in a subtle way. Sometimes we struggle so hard to find what we hold so dear to us, only to reveal that we feel betrayed and have been misled. Who could deny two beautiful crying eyes? Only a Nazi in a death camp, or someone completely indifferent. Sometimes we find it so easy to get lost within things. We get so lost, that sometimes, it takes something horrible to bring us back. And sometimes, when we're lucky, something great. Only there to show us what we truly care about. I think why some people overreact and why some people react adversely to things that happen to them is because there is such honesty in these things that we get lost in. Such complete honesty. We always tend to believe that what we as individuals mean so much, only to be told that groups are what is important. Perhaps I'm wrong in saying no. Individuals in groups incite madness. If one INDIVIDUAL goes on a tangent, the group mentality makes it almost 3 times as possible for another to get outlandish ideas and follow through with them. Kinda of like a mosh pit, everything is kosher until the first guy throws a punch. I think it takes something as plain and bland as the internet to do away with this, because in actuality people are different when it comes to text. It may be their real selves, or it may be plagiarism, but people change. Another part of them emerges, to the point that even groups on the internet have individuals whom discriminate themselves from thousands. In this world everything is unknown to us and we pretend that we really understand it all. The world's leading psychologists don't even know what parts of our brains do, therefore how can we expect to truly know ourselves, we don't even know our bodies. Some say that science can only go so far and then comes god, but i believe that science can only go so far and then comes intellect. So the next time you ever commit an action, experience any emotion, or simply breath, just remember that each moment is just a place, a time, and a fading existence of what you now know. "Claiming something unknown merely assures and provides undeniable proof of it's presence." - Corey McLauchlin


Feb 11, 2005

Some Will Never Know the Pain of Desire

Some will never know the pain of desire. As the writers of 'The Beach' put it, "The sun will not bleach it, nor the tides wash it away". The people who know this best are the people who are never satisfied, for they are the ones who know the frustration of always having to wonder, 'What could have been?' The curious wonder/desire burns deep. Down to the core. Inside and around everything you know. It can consume you, and make you writhe in anger sometimes. You begin to lament for joy, and reflect on times where you could have made better decisions. Times when it would have negated the having to wonder had you just went a different path. The secrets of the world are meant for no one person. We each have our own little piece. I just wish at least some could look at the finished puzzle and be oblivious to the specifics of each individual piece. Kind of makes you wish for a blanket to shield you from everything happy, so that maybe you could learn every lesson, wrong every right, and fill every hole in your heart. 

Feb. 11, 2005

In a Rush to Chill

Star-stating epiphany is melancholy for moons lamenting of lost orbitals. A breach for consistent loves lost. Consolidation founding grievances cold-shut for Winter's age. Breathe a possibility's fortune told life. Forget complacency. 

Jan. 31, 2005

This is What Goes On In My Mind

Originally Posted on Monday, 10 January 2011 at 05:14




I begin to question.  Simply question the foundation of my very beliefs.  It's all blond on these isles.  Therefore the prospect of other lands appeals, without a doubt, to the slightest inclination of me finding a place to get lost.  And I shall.

I've had enough with starry-eyed, smoke-filled rooms and the laugh that they were real when I was in them.  Playing jazz and acting smart.  We all become liars and we all become angels.

As Godspeed had said,

 "We're all trapped in the belly of this horrible machine, and the machine is bleeding to death. The sun has fallen down and the billboards are all leering, and the flags are all dead at the top of their poles.¹"

I could pretense my reasoning no better.  It was useless to breathe.

The solace idolized by the id may never be found.  Struggles of light and dark in constancy.   Golden-lined coffins.  The unfortuitous scream of mother nature.  How did I laugh so easily?     When you let everything just slide off of your back, out of neglect, when is it important again?  When does the reel change?  Or maybe you just can't.  Maybe it just looks like a damaged landscape painting.  All the right colors, and no discrepancy for geography.  A pious brushstroke.

I could fall into it like a daydream or a fever.