Friday, January 28, 2011
Farts: 1 Logic: 0
I failed math...well, nearly. More so, I effing hated it. However, I always seemed to be blessed with super supportive and patient teachers who cared enough to nurse me through to a passing grade...thanks Mr. Sparrow. Math was always so cold, boring. There was always the perfect answer and I get apprehensive around perfection. I just learned that our existence, our world and every individual on it may be an expression of a mathematical equation. First off, how can a math equation be expressive? Two plus two and so forth, are not emotional. Why give us the ability to feel if we are merely a hologram transposed onto an orb(earth at the moment)? Who created this equation...this equation which seems to cause such pain, suffering and often disappointment? Are we merely existing elsewhere and now at this moment in space and time, we are mirror images of our true and infallible selves? Three-d dolls with free will? I like the smell of my own farts. What does that equation look like? And why? Why am I given the opportunity to love my flatulence if we are one giant walking and talking numeric result? Would our thoughts and actions than not exist as a simple yet perfect answer? Why would we have questions if we are created by answers? On another plain, perhaps we could have all the solutions and be thriving in faultless harmony? Impeccable speech would rain down from the quadratic equation heavens and woe would be an unconscionable word. What form of energy spawned these inconceivable ripostes? Perhaps an enormous and omniscient wood chipper sucks in the necessary knowledge from across the infinite darkness and spews forth the very stuff dreams are made of...turns out it's simple calculus. Funny, the one subject I purely detest may contain within it, all the answers I strive for on a second to minute basis. I guess it's back to the wood chipper for me til the kinks be worked out and the problem is solved. On a lighter note...I am "silent disease" free, Fucko. So, perhaps next time you should wrap it up before jamming it into someone you've only known three seconds. This is the last time I will think of you, you selfish fuck of a flawed friend equation.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
F...F...F...FRIEND YOU!
It's been said that you can't choose your family and that's what makes a "friend" so goddamn special. You, through the magic of right time right space, connect with those who are interested in like things or find yourselves in positions that may not stimulate, but the bonds built are enough to sustain remaining in a specific place for perhaps, far too fucking long. There were times I thought I made splendid choices when it came to the people I surround myself with. Once again, I am learning otherwise. I have this friend...this friend named...Fucko. We've known each other for eight years. Long time in Rhandi Land as consistency is not one of my strong suits. He was supportive, funny, brilliant in a great many thing, and we got along so well it was sometimes scary. I've since moved from the town we once shared, a few times, but the effort was always there. We saw each other threw the worst of it all and always came out laughing and believing in life and love once more. For two years I was in a pretty nasty relationship(another incident of remaining far too fucking long) with a soul-sucking-life-leeching-mooching-monster. Fucko stuck around at the edge of the playground to make sure I was cool while I ripped around on the monkey bars, praying for the ensuing fall not to break me wide open. It did, like a rotten pumpkin hurled off the edge of a building, but it turns out the dismount was outstanding and the landing was stuck even with all the goo and chunks. Anyhow, Fucko was way supportive throughout and when the landing was complete, he swooped in with a sympathetic shoulder and beer. Well, my judgement not being razor sharp at the moment what with the catastrophic past looming over my pity party, we were intimate. Not to say that I didn't struggle with those feelings for him for years or that I just jumped in the sack immediately. He really put in some effort in a big way...saying all the right things at the exact right times and physically being there when I was my most drastically desperate. I never thought in a million years that my best friend would ever take advantage of me. He did. Once he had received what he wanted, weeks turned to months and I heard hide nor hair. Was he just biding his time, like eight bloody years, just to bang his best friend, check her off his "to do" list and move on? Fucko, you're a fucking fuck. So, slowly...always too fucking slowly, I start to realize that I have been used. When I needed a friend the most, he saw that and manipulated what we had to achieve his penis goals. Last night at one in the morning, I receive a text from him..."My current girlfriend has Chlamydia and I am getting tested tmrw. Just thought you should know as you were the last before her and boys can carry it for a while symptom free."
Sigh
So after months of no communication, I have written you off as a decent human being...the last one by the way on my checklist with lines scribbled over the rest, and you tell me not so coded, that you may have given me an STD cuz you refused to wrap it up, that you have a gf, hence the lack of, oh I don't know, FRIENDSHIP!...and I am only considered "the last" fuck you had on a very short list. I hope your fucking dick falls off you selfish mother fucker. I thought I was done being surprised and disappointed by people. Now I find new and degrading ways in which the people I've known for years can really screw you up. It's sad really. I know that the hurt and anger I feel now are at a certain level...and this level can only escalate to a far worse degree in order for me to feel again. I wish I could warn the world of you.
Sigh
So after months of no communication, I have written you off as a decent human being...the last one by the way on my checklist with lines scribbled over the rest, and you tell me not so coded, that you may have given me an STD cuz you refused to wrap it up, that you have a gf, hence the lack of, oh I don't know, FRIENDSHIP!...and I am only considered "the last" fuck you had on a very short list. I hope your fucking dick falls off you selfish mother fucker. I thought I was done being surprised and disappointed by people. Now I find new and degrading ways in which the people I've known for years can really screw you up. It's sad really. I know that the hurt and anger I feel now are at a certain level...and this level can only escalate to a far worse degree in order for me to feel again. I wish I could warn the world of you.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Back to the Future
I have been thinking on memory quite a lot lately. Some memories seem so real, vivid and understandable. Others I just can't believe were ever occurrences...like dreams that shoot off into another dimension when you try to remember them. The harder you try, the further and less plausible they seem. We were given memory as a gift from the ego to keep us alive. I remember not to stick my head in the oven when it's on and cooking me deliciousness. It would hurt and I remember. I think life experiences react within the mind much the same way. I've learned that dating a "recovering" addict means trouble, nay a slow and revolving death of trust and sanity. Recovery is a word people who need to feel empowered place meaning upon. It means nothing when shit falls apart and the drugs or alcohol, for some ungodly reason, become the foundation for forgetting once more. There are plenty of things I have learned and remember which I wish I haven't. I don't want to remember how awful we treat one another when it comes down to "you or I' in this mental survival cycle. I don't want to remember how opening your life and heart to someone can nearly level you to states of non functioning. I know this is essential for me to never stick my head in the oven again...but I believe now, I am afraid to cook anything period. I am afraid to prepare a lovely meal, watch it simmer and come alive and then devour it with devotion and determination. I won't even walk by the oven now...I head straight for the microwave or the nearest bag of pre-bought cupboard garbage. The thought of "cooking" fills me with such tension, fear and loathing...I may never eat again. I have so many memories from childhood and beyond that don't seem real to me. How was that my reaction in that situation? Was that really me responding to that? Creating that? It's almost as if some other person were making those key life decisions for me and I was just a witness to it all, unable to participate and now paying the price. There are other memories I have however, where it was all me. I remember them as though I am there now, dealing with whatever was going down at the time. Is it states of awareness that makes those happenings feel like they are a part of you? My awareness now sometimes feels separate. There are times when I have to convince myself that I am Rhandi Neal and that I exist. These odd out of body and brain moments come unexpectedly and randomly. I question why this now, why this moment? I know many are so wrapped in their own daily routine that this seems confusing. It's confusing to me as well as I cannot seem to grasp why these moments of seemingly pure lucidity and yet unbounded perplexity about my relation to the entire world occur. I do not know where these feelings come from or why they occur when they do...I do know that I enjoy them immensely. I feel apart of everything and separate from all. It's lonely and liberating, confusing yet more conscious than any other state of reality I have conjured for myself. I remember these from years ago. I didn't think much of them then, but now they seem so much more relevant and pressing. Is that the only way one can retrieve understanding-through memory? Why must it take so damn long for me to get it? Why must I be haunted by memories that no longer resemble who I am now? Being once a part of me is not conducive to who I am now...is it? It happened, it's over...what's next?
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Puppy Love
I am often riddled with so many thoughts. Most of which, inconsequential, destructive, obsolete and downright ridiculous. In the thirty-seven seconds it took for me to walk home with my beer and delightful salt and pepper wings, a great many thought passes through my pea brain. One of which being, I am such a dude. I am nearly positive that at one time or maybe several, I was a penis wielding something something. My energy at the moment is not altogether precisely feminine. I met a dog in the liquor store whilst purchasing my libations who immediately smelt my bag of chicken and then proceeded to my crotch for a quick judgement. I believe dogs are brilliant in so many ways. Why as human beings have we made the process of getting to know one another and falling in love so tangled...so convoluted? Dogs can decipher every bit of information from our crotches and pass judgement from there. No confusion, no mistrust, nothing. A simple crotch sniff tells a person all the business about another that one needs to know. The problem being, I start sniffing around a dudes crotch and unfavorable results would immediately follow for me. I have no trust. I long for honesty but I don't believe I'd know it if it, well...sniffed my crotch. I once trusted a man. He was the one for me, I know it. He was beautiful and intelligent, hilarious and filled my heart with near unmentionable joy. I loved him with every inch of my being and dreamed of our life together constantly. As I dreamed and obsessed, he moved away from me and my dreams became only that, never to be requited. I broke my own heart on that one I believe. I think about him often and rather still fondly and with great regret that words cannot truly ever express. Where was I going with this? Ah, yes...trust. I think I no longer trust my own judgement because of this man-child and therefore, trust no one else. I broke myself for one person who never realized how necessary he was for my sanity. I pose this question to the world...Are those feelings lost forever? When growing up commences, is it possible to retain that early hope, openness, and innocent longing? Can one ever go back to a time when holding hands through an entire night was enough to sustain ones heart? I suppose that's more than one question posed...well I'm insatiable dammit!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
I'm in a New York State of Mind
It's kind of gassy and forlorn...that may be in part due to the bottle of Dr. ZenZen I have recently consumed (thank you Kari). I think bout boys all the time...I mean ALL of the time. Is that sad? Shouldn't I be pondering dramatic type things or creatively inspired things...alas...I pontificate on boys. They are predictable, similar, small-minded, and disappointing. However...I find myself often quite distracted by their meager existence. WHY! That is not a question in need of an answer. I am exhausted....and slightly drunk. I want to light up a room. I want to be the only person some "dude" worth speaking to will find himself gawking at for stretches of time. I want to be endured. I want to be loved, caressed, desired. Will someone at some point not regret missing out on "life" for me? I say that in quotations because what is this really? No one has any sort of answer worth listening to and if they claim they do, shoot them in the skull repeatedly cuz they don't deserve to live. I want to be someones everything. As much as I bitch about the opposite sex...I want love, nay...need love. We all do, I'm just so pissed and bitter bout it all that it clouds my judgement and ultimate desire. Yes, I may have chosen poorly in the past...that doesn't give any of these assholes the excuse to treat me as they have. I am not your typical beauty. I do believe however that I have something of value to offer. The world...men...others...ether...yes I did mean that word...sans the "I". So, my "New York" state of mind consists of drunken ramblings on New Years Eve coupled with sappy movie rentals(which cost far too much I might add) and hair pulling, tear welling bullshit sad sap nonsense expressed on my computer-tron. I want to laugh and cry...but I want it to be my choice...not because some asshole I've chosen has dictated thus. Time for bed...happy fuckin new year...as if I buy into that bullshit. One more thing...you people should be making a resolution every goddamn day to be a better person...once a year is not e fucking nough.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)