Why romance one another at all, if it all just goes away in the end. Why try? At first there are love songs, poetry....effort! Then nothing. Nope. Worse than nothing...self loathing, hatred of the sight of one another... and silence.
Do you think me odd if I sniff his glass when he's gone? Ain't no sunshine when he's gone, ain't no liquor when we're through? Better not...there are rules that require a followin'. Rules man, rules like....well, I don't rightly know what the rules are in a situation like this. What happens when two people give up on trying to make it work but have to live together? I guess 'have to' and no other option seem valid presently. I ain't leaving. That would be a new record for me ya know....three moves in less than six months. Terrible. Horrifyingly dreadful more like it. We've created such a mine field for love that nothing grows anymore. We won't let it. The first sign of green and the screaming begins. We said things that will not be taken back. Even if they were, they couldn't be. Now we live as voluntary prisoners in a beautiful place with frustrated insurgents. They creep in all stealth like then bomb the place to hell. Messy fucking raw wounds are all that remain.
I see couples holding hands. Fuck does that ever always get me. They stroll about town with peaceful, knowing smirks....incapable of being affected by anything but one another. Thrown by little and horny as all get out. All you need is love remember....and separate zip codes.
We should have gotten scratching posts. When things began to turn south, we could have each retired to our carpet covered kitty logs and sunk into them for a time instead of the other.
I was a bird in a cage; Too afraid to flit about or even touch the ground. I sat perched, waiting for his attention; For a look or word that never came. One day the cage broke free from it's tether to the ceiling and I came crashing down inside it. No physical injury to be found. The amount of brain damage incurred however was insurmountable. Now I sit in this broken, bent, and mangled cage with my broken, bent and mangled mind. Just sitting. Not leaving. Barely breathing. Alone.
I am without my best friend, my lover. We are roommates until other arrangements can be made. All of the hard times out-weighed the good and all our words were misunderstood. I put too much in of myself. Like every man needs to save my life. I store all of the things I see in myself in the other, hoping to have it returned to me. I want it returned. It doesn't happen so. I give 'til I'm dry and sore and done. I've determined life is an extended trip on a train. Always moving forward and onward. A few stops here and there to stretch and grab a snack, maybe have a conversation. Connect. Then off again. There is only one direction this train moves in and that's the one towards death. There is no going back. Even if the one, true thing you were meant to do in this life was two miles back and you didn't capitalize...oh well. It's gone. It's done. What's next. Sickness and desertion permeates this fucking train. Someone open a window, this heartache is stifling.
We've created such an impossible environment for love and connection to grow, let alone prosper. It seems inconceivable to meet anyone anymore in any capacity as the whole world is constantly plugged in. I'm part of the problem. Here I write on a computer instead of talking it out with another human being. I watch people on trains who don't speak to one another. Barely glance at the other. All on their cell phones, iPods. Every second we grow closer to the great beyond and I long to share my passion of this world with someone. How can I when we're all so obsessed with social media and the technological world? How do you remove people from the matrix without Keanu! Conversation is rendered obsolete when you can text and call and escape. Technology is a tool, not life itself. I suppose it starts with me. I'll do my best to set an example and that's it. What else is there if not effort?
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Saturday, June 1, 2013
The words you speak today...
...should be soft and tender, for tomorrow you may have to eat them. This also applies to action...allow me to illustrate.
I moved to Surrey, British Columbia a few months ago. Worst decision ever. I moved in to the basement of a man whose two giant ill-treated, verbally abused, and neglected dogs barked night and all the live-long day. They barked at me when I moved inside the 'apartment'. They barked at passers-by. They barked when their own owners came home then whined for hours til the assholes finally paid them the littlest bit of attention. There was literally not a single iota of insulation between myself and the prick above. I heard every tirade he went on about, every phone call, every fuck session(luckily he spared me these a mere few times a month). His dogs ended up giving me fleas. I paid my rent on time. I was as quiet and respectful as I could be. I gave him a months notice of my intent to vacate after only stomaching the place for 30 days. So for an extra month I endured without complaint being uttered from my lips to his fucking ears.
Mercifully I found somewhere else, resigned my keys to the bastard with the hopes of seeing my damage deposit which he assured me would be coming my way after he viewed the place without my belongings. I left that place spotless even after it took Jesse and I two days to get it to the point of being remotely livable. A couple weeks went by and I called the son of a bitch. No answer. Left messages, texts, and called his wife. Finally, anus tart responds via a text stating that he's sent the moola along with some mail of mine. Perfect. I can forget this terrible experience....put it all behind me and move the fuck on. Two weeks go by, nothing. So the calling and texting begin again, meanwhile me still giving super fuck the benefit of the doubt. His wife answers eventually. 'Well Rhandi, if shitbird says he sent it then I don't see any reason why he wouldn't. I'll talk to him.' Next day rolls around and she frantically calls me exclaiming that the 'money was sitting in an envelope on their table and oh my god we are so sorry and we are going to courier it to you on Thursday!' Well, that seemed believable so I wait....again. Why would she go through the trouble of that ridiculous story and expressive telling of it if it weren't true? Right? RIGHT!? No money comes. So being the passive agitator that I am begin writing them letters. Stern yet gently worded as to not offend. I did my best to manipulate the tards. To no avail. They probably weren't read and if they were, not understood.
More than a month goes by like this and Jesse suggests we go over there and talk to fuckboat. Totally. That'll work. He's a reasonable adult, this could totally work. This should totally work. I walk up to the landlord from hell and politely ask if we may have a brief friendly chat. Instantly he appears irritable and responds rather aggressively. Thinking I could calm the situation as Jesse remains off the property by his car, I proceed in my most calming yet assertive tone. Motherfucker attempts to sick his dog on me who runs out the door with his tail between his legs, takes one look at me, and books it back inside. Laughable really if I wasn't afraid of the rather large and angered man standing before me. He threatens to throw 'shit water' on me, and calls me a liar all the while threatening me with his larger than life physical presence and booming voice. Worst Landlord ever proceeds to call the cops on me for trespassing as I proceed to sit on his lawn in peaceful protest singing 'Give Peace a Chance.' BastardDick screams and threatens and does all the things that a frightened animal would do in a situation where it feels cornered and incorrect yet unable to admit so. He was in the wrong. He was doing wrong. He could have avoided all of this had he just returned money to me that was not in his rights to keep. I could have also saved myself such trouble by letting it go. I wanted to right this wrong. Triumphant horns were sounding in my head on behalf of tenants everywhere for all of the misdeeds done to them by greedy landlord lizards. My mistake.
My mistake big time.
He comes screaming out of his house, head butts Jesse in the mouth, screeching that he tripped. I call 911. This I do not take lightly. We leave the property. Cops come. I feel stupid, ashamed that I let things get so far and so terrible that Jesse got hurt in my quest for satisfaction. So, by law...i am forced to drop it. Fine. Whatever. Ending in a terrible mess that I could have avoided by simply understanding that you can't reason with an animal who has something of yours. Bullies survive on bullying, not by conceding by means of discourse and then snacking on milk and cookies. Lesson learned. But wait! There's more. Of course there is fucking more.
I recently got a new job. They require a criminal record check before I can proceed with the company. Cool. No prob. Sixty bucks!? Ok. The paperwork comes back to me and what do I see? I have a 'negative history' with the RCMP. Why? I was trespassing on that piece of shit's property. I was civil. I sat on his lawn singing The Beatles but it was HIS lawn. He called the cops, they recorded it and now my chances of keeping this job are slim. I won't be able to volunteer at the animal shelter because no one will accept someone with a history such as mine. So one lapse in judgement trying to do the moral thing and retrieve my fucking money from an evil, retarded man and I may never get to do the type of work I want. Lesson learned kids; Never try. I believe in love and beauty and nurturing one another and the like. I did nothing wrong to this man except confront him when he did me wrong and I am the one to be punished. There are people who rape, maim, and litter. Fuck I hate people who litter. There are corrupt CEO's that have plunged our world into despair, disconnect and disarray but I can't volunteer to pet puppies because I amicably attempted to stand up for myself. This world is super fucked. I suppose I have no one to blame but myself. Wonder if those CEO's have as much trouble sleeping as I do.
Post Script - Did you know that in Afghanistan their police force keeps twelve year old boys around their compounds to fuck? It's common knowledge and practice. I step on some dickholes lawn to talk to him and I get a criminal record. Priorities people. Guess if I'm labeled as such I should start diddling little dudes. When in Afghanistan....
I moved to Surrey, British Columbia a few months ago. Worst decision ever. I moved in to the basement of a man whose two giant ill-treated, verbally abused, and neglected dogs barked night and all the live-long day. They barked at me when I moved inside the 'apartment'. They barked at passers-by. They barked when their own owners came home then whined for hours til the assholes finally paid them the littlest bit of attention. There was literally not a single iota of insulation between myself and the prick above. I heard every tirade he went on about, every phone call, every fuck session(luckily he spared me these a mere few times a month). His dogs ended up giving me fleas. I paid my rent on time. I was as quiet and respectful as I could be. I gave him a months notice of my intent to vacate after only stomaching the place for 30 days. So for an extra month I endured without complaint being uttered from my lips to his fucking ears.
Mercifully I found somewhere else, resigned my keys to the bastard with the hopes of seeing my damage deposit which he assured me would be coming my way after he viewed the place without my belongings. I left that place spotless even after it took Jesse and I two days to get it to the point of being remotely livable. A couple weeks went by and I called the son of a bitch. No answer. Left messages, texts, and called his wife. Finally, anus tart responds via a text stating that he's sent the moola along with some mail of mine. Perfect. I can forget this terrible experience....put it all behind me and move the fuck on. Two weeks go by, nothing. So the calling and texting begin again, meanwhile me still giving super fuck the benefit of the doubt. His wife answers eventually. 'Well Rhandi, if shitbird says he sent it then I don't see any reason why he wouldn't. I'll talk to him.' Next day rolls around and she frantically calls me exclaiming that the 'money was sitting in an envelope on their table and oh my god we are so sorry and we are going to courier it to you on Thursday!' Well, that seemed believable so I wait....again. Why would she go through the trouble of that ridiculous story and expressive telling of it if it weren't true? Right? RIGHT!? No money comes. So being the passive agitator that I am begin writing them letters. Stern yet gently worded as to not offend. I did my best to manipulate the tards. To no avail. They probably weren't read and if they were, not understood.
More than a month goes by like this and Jesse suggests we go over there and talk to fuckboat. Totally. That'll work. He's a reasonable adult, this could totally work. This should totally work. I walk up to the landlord from hell and politely ask if we may have a brief friendly chat. Instantly he appears irritable and responds rather aggressively. Thinking I could calm the situation as Jesse remains off the property by his car, I proceed in my most calming yet assertive tone. Motherfucker attempts to sick his dog on me who runs out the door with his tail between his legs, takes one look at me, and books it back inside. Laughable really if I wasn't afraid of the rather large and angered man standing before me. He threatens to throw 'shit water' on me, and calls me a liar all the while threatening me with his larger than life physical presence and booming voice. Worst Landlord ever proceeds to call the cops on me for trespassing as I proceed to sit on his lawn in peaceful protest singing 'Give Peace a Chance.' BastardDick screams and threatens and does all the things that a frightened animal would do in a situation where it feels cornered and incorrect yet unable to admit so. He was in the wrong. He was doing wrong. He could have avoided all of this had he just returned money to me that was not in his rights to keep. I could have also saved myself such trouble by letting it go. I wanted to right this wrong. Triumphant horns were sounding in my head on behalf of tenants everywhere for all of the misdeeds done to them by greedy landlord lizards. My mistake.
My mistake big time.
He comes screaming out of his house, head butts Jesse in the mouth, screeching that he tripped. I call 911. This I do not take lightly. We leave the property. Cops come. I feel stupid, ashamed that I let things get so far and so terrible that Jesse got hurt in my quest for satisfaction. So, by law...i am forced to drop it. Fine. Whatever. Ending in a terrible mess that I could have avoided by simply understanding that you can't reason with an animal who has something of yours. Bullies survive on bullying, not by conceding by means of discourse and then snacking on milk and cookies. Lesson learned. But wait! There's more. Of course there is fucking more.
I recently got a new job. They require a criminal record check before I can proceed with the company. Cool. No prob. Sixty bucks!? Ok. The paperwork comes back to me and what do I see? I have a 'negative history' with the RCMP. Why? I was trespassing on that piece of shit's property. I was civil. I sat on his lawn singing The Beatles but it was HIS lawn. He called the cops, they recorded it and now my chances of keeping this job are slim. I won't be able to volunteer at the animal shelter because no one will accept someone with a history such as mine. So one lapse in judgement trying to do the moral thing and retrieve my fucking money from an evil, retarded man and I may never get to do the type of work I want. Lesson learned kids; Never try. I believe in love and beauty and nurturing one another and the like. I did nothing wrong to this man except confront him when he did me wrong and I am the one to be punished. There are people who rape, maim, and litter. Fuck I hate people who litter. There are corrupt CEO's that have plunged our world into despair, disconnect and disarray but I can't volunteer to pet puppies because I amicably attempted to stand up for myself. This world is super fucked. I suppose I have no one to blame but myself. Wonder if those CEO's have as much trouble sleeping as I do.
Post Script - Did you know that in Afghanistan their police force keeps twelve year old boys around their compounds to fuck? It's common knowledge and practice. I step on some dickholes lawn to talk to him and I get a criminal record. Priorities people. Guess if I'm labeled as such I should start diddling little dudes. When in Afghanistan....
Monday, May 13, 2013
Confinement Part Deux
My uncle is a brilliant and beautiful genius....and not the one that just died. I should feel something about that other than, weird...he's gone. My fault perhaps for not pursuing a relationship of any kind with him in the last ten years. And his. He was older after all and now he's doggone long gone. Anyhoo,
My other uncle. The one who has stated quite clearly that relationships should only last three months. What brilliance. I am not made for this. I am not made to respond as an adult would in an adult situation to a child. Men are children. Giant forgetful babies that refuse reason and compromise. I am better alone. Read into that what you will...and then fuck off. Being with someone so similar has made me hate myself. I see all of the ridiculous bullshit I pull displayed right in front of me and it makes me want to stop existing. I want to pull out every fiber of my hair so hard and for so long that it never grows back. I want to grate off my own face skin and make a sandwich of it for the homeless. They like sandwiches.
Fuck you. Fuck you a thousand times you disappointing motherfucker piece of shit. You are not right. I refuse fault. I want to laugh in your face every day for the rest of my life. Fucking hell I get angry. I decide I'm right and that's the end of that. rational. I can't do this. Every day I feel as though I can't do this. Maybe it's that I don't want this. I don't want it so I make it so through passive aggression and flippancy.
i am too stubborn for another. i am too stubborn to be around or participate with others.
Leave me alone! That goes for the lot of you. Don't weep for me either. That is not what this is about. Being alone isn't the easy choice. People who haven't been alone think in this manner. Such is not the case. Being alone. Truly alone. The hardest thing in the world. You choose to be ousted from the herd. Loners in the wild are proven to die sooner than one the same age who has remained within. The scragglers look a fright and are without children or a mate. They seem to wander without purpose. Without enjoyment. There is no life in the eyes of the creature that chooses a life of solitude. And without complaint.
Post Script: Written after a screaming match several weeks ago, came across it in my travels...interesting...
My other uncle. The one who has stated quite clearly that relationships should only last three months. What brilliance. I am not made for this. I am not made to respond as an adult would in an adult situation to a child. Men are children. Giant forgetful babies that refuse reason and compromise. I am better alone. Read into that what you will...and then fuck off. Being with someone so similar has made me hate myself. I see all of the ridiculous bullshit I pull displayed right in front of me and it makes me want to stop existing. I want to pull out every fiber of my hair so hard and for so long that it never grows back. I want to grate off my own face skin and make a sandwich of it for the homeless. They like sandwiches.
Fuck you. Fuck you a thousand times you disappointing motherfucker piece of shit. You are not right. I refuse fault. I want to laugh in your face every day for the rest of my life. Fucking hell I get angry. I decide I'm right and that's the end of that. rational. I can't do this. Every day I feel as though I can't do this. Maybe it's that I don't want this. I don't want it so I make it so through passive aggression and flippancy.
i am too stubborn for another. i am too stubborn to be around or participate with others.
Leave me alone! That goes for the lot of you. Don't weep for me either. That is not what this is about. Being alone isn't the easy choice. People who haven't been alone think in this manner. Such is not the case. Being alone. Truly alone. The hardest thing in the world. You choose to be ousted from the herd. Loners in the wild are proven to die sooner than one the same age who has remained within. The scragglers look a fright and are without children or a mate. They seem to wander without purpose. Without enjoyment. There is no life in the eyes of the creature that chooses a life of solitude. And without complaint.
Post Script: Written after a screaming match several weeks ago, came across it in my travels...interesting...
Happiness and Sunshine
Moohoohaha....fooled you fuckers! I should stop calling my loyal and most studious fan base, fuckers. You like it though don't you, fuckers? yeah, you see how you scum.
'We should have broken up a year ago,' he says with a stern scowl. This is how it is...and this is how it goes. I did it. again. Fucked everything up and I have no one to blame. That's the worst. Well, and losing my best friend....that's bullshit too. Don't fall in love people. I will say it time and time again until breath fails me. Something funny. I miss touching him. Ha. Irony of being an awful human being sometimes is sooooo rich.
Don't you tell me what you think is right when you yourself exist only in shadows. How do people DO this? Is a blind eye turned at every turn? Do you just give the fuck up? Relent control; A constant capitulation of silent cacophony? Silent is right. Be berry berry quiet....you'll scare the wabbit. He never gets that goddamn hare. An entire life wasted on hunting for something unattainable and most elusive. I'm insane and it's your fault. At least until I get a handle on shit. Singledom is hard yet so much fucking easier. I thought I was through with accessible. Done with doubt. Down with the apparent.
Does everyone need sympathy? Am I capable of being empathetic? I am with animals. I thought this bird was hurt today and nearly strangled it attempting to 'save' it. What you see is what you get. I never hid myself. Loving is simple when you're in different time zones. You're single until every third months second weekend and then the loneliness is assuaged by copious drink, drug, fuck and fight. You know, love?
Why does eating a banana make your teeth furry?
I do my best to live moment to moment. Sometimes my brain says nonono, time to be sad. Let us think on sadness. Sometimes i get stuck there. Sometimes i choose to remain there with my little unhappy head friends. I always come back. I didn't always have these issues. I wasn't always so angry. There was a time when I gave freely with no expectation of return on my investments. Now. Now, i exist in hesitation in a darkened room alone. If I despise being alone so much why am i SO keen on making that my reality? Questions are good. Yes questions. Soothing really that I will always have those to keep me company. Oh, and musical genius. Grateful for that too. And birds. I like birds.
'We should have broken up a year ago,' he says with a stern scowl. This is how it is...and this is how it goes. I did it. again. Fucked everything up and I have no one to blame. That's the worst. Well, and losing my best friend....that's bullshit too. Don't fall in love people. I will say it time and time again until breath fails me. Something funny. I miss touching him. Ha. Irony of being an awful human being sometimes is sooooo rich.
Don't you tell me what you think is right when you yourself exist only in shadows. How do people DO this? Is a blind eye turned at every turn? Do you just give the fuck up? Relent control; A constant capitulation of silent cacophony? Silent is right. Be berry berry quiet....you'll scare the wabbit. He never gets that goddamn hare. An entire life wasted on hunting for something unattainable and most elusive. I'm insane and it's your fault. At least until I get a handle on shit. Singledom is hard yet so much fucking easier. I thought I was through with accessible. Done with doubt. Down with the apparent.
Does everyone need sympathy? Am I capable of being empathetic? I am with animals. I thought this bird was hurt today and nearly strangled it attempting to 'save' it. What you see is what you get. I never hid myself. Loving is simple when you're in different time zones. You're single until every third months second weekend and then the loneliness is assuaged by copious drink, drug, fuck and fight. You know, love?
Why does eating a banana make your teeth furry?
I do my best to live moment to moment. Sometimes my brain says nonono, time to be sad. Let us think on sadness. Sometimes i get stuck there. Sometimes i choose to remain there with my little unhappy head friends. I always come back. I didn't always have these issues. I wasn't always so angry. There was a time when I gave freely with no expectation of return on my investments. Now. Now, i exist in hesitation in a darkened room alone. If I despise being alone so much why am i SO keen on making that my reality? Questions are good. Yes questions. Soothing really that I will always have those to keep me company. Oh, and musical genius. Grateful for that too. And birds. I like birds.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Want Not
Someone else is living my life. Not sure when or where this phenomena took place but here we are. Here she is folks! The girl who once thought she'd be and do something great is just like the rest of you useless tits. A worker bee and nothing more. All bets and aspirations are off! Someone else invaded my peaceful existence and made everything shitty. Had to be someone else cuz why would anyone in their right fucking mind ever participate in this banality by choice? Everything is shitty. All I need now is cancer....and boy is it ever on it's way. My whole family is fast becoming worm food due to this bit of business and I'm sure my fate will sooner than later be sealed. Well, actually probably later cuz my cancer will be slow and arduous. It will go into several remissions leaving me perpetually bald and weak and inhuman. Then the mounds of fucking tumors will fill my lungs, leaving me in my last moments grasping for breath and asking for my mommy; Like when young soldiers get gut-shot and are readily bleeding to death on the cold and indifferent ground.
Who is this living my life right now? And why? Wake up. Do some stuff. Don't do some other stuff. Do more stuff. Time for bed. I feel so unfulfilled in lack of action and unfulfilled in any action taken. So then I question which choices am i making to allow such feelings of heaviness. I am so heavy. I feel weight pressing me more and more into the ground. no escape. I'm getting older and dumber day by day and the unfairness of this 'gift' is beginning to choke me out. I'm afraid to live but I can't keep going with the way things are. I'm afraid to try anything because I may not like it. There goes all that wasted time and energy and money. Then, lesson learned mind you, I'd be back where I started. I always come back to where I started because I think small and dream smaller and that's no one's fault but my own but fuck it and fuck you.
Fuck you.
A hummingbird drinks and Rhandi crys. I should also be suckling but instead i wallow in shallow waves of discontent and self hatred. And question. and rage. And live in my head til I feel like it's about to burst. Then i share this nonsense with another ego and everything else that I had built falls and crumbles to nothing. Yeah, I've been sad since I've arrived here. I have yet to make a true connection. Sure I'm a little guarded but who in adulthood isn't? We go through a lot of bullshit just to be here....sifting through other people is no different. I have no patience for these jobs I participate in anymore. I use to be able to assuage my soul's cry by repetition and the goals of other people. Maybe I have no goals and that's what makes me such a malcontent. Maybe my dreams are bigger than my reality, therefore I can't imagine them possibly coming to fruition. Perhaps 'achieving' something isn't all there is to living. Helps to be screamed to about it though.
I'm trying to live day by day and I continue to grow smaller and smaller until I fear I'll disappear. I was once visible and vibrant and ready. I use to be fearless. Nearing on reckless. Make a decision, boom. Action, boom. Now my 'booms' come from angry slamming doors and the pounding of my empty heart. I continue to refuse to accept that this is my life and maybe that's why nothing is changing. I thought beautiful events would occur and lead me to more of the same. Can that even happen when you don't know which way to go? Where to turn? Who to seek out? I fight against all of the inconsequential garbage I've built, like who I am and what the fucking point is, and now I have no time to do anything real. Anything of value has long ago left. For too long have I hated and raged and avoided who I am and what I've created. Now I look back at it: This empty thirty years of and in no particular order, lies, inaction, adoption, occasional decent person, scumbagscumbagscumbag, brief travel highlight, death, life, acting highlight, brief periods of action followed by me just returning to awful me. I have forgotten how to cultivate anything good. How do people do this? How do people live their lives with meaning and purpose and love? I would rather watch people live and love then acquire it for myself. I have it and I turn it to shit. Or it turns to shit cuz that's what happens. How can I be happy for someone else, excited for someone else when I feel this way?
I will never meet the standards i have set and revive daily. I want to come up for a wee bit of air but I don't know how and the what? Then fucking what? More cyclical treadmill of stupid wants and petty desires. I always thought i was here to do something special. To be someone special. I bet we all think that at one point. Well, those thoughts still bounce around in my big empty noggin but I've completely given up on meeting them. I had hope for things once. Now? I simply wash rinse and repeat...on to the next day to complete the same menial tasks that were accomplished the day before. Nothing changes. People stay the same and I'll continue to watch from my perch...not alone mind you, cuz my throbbing, raging cancerous tumors will fill in all the holes.
Who is this living my life right now? And why? Wake up. Do some stuff. Don't do some other stuff. Do more stuff. Time for bed. I feel so unfulfilled in lack of action and unfulfilled in any action taken. So then I question which choices am i making to allow such feelings of heaviness. I am so heavy. I feel weight pressing me more and more into the ground. no escape. I'm getting older and dumber day by day and the unfairness of this 'gift' is beginning to choke me out. I'm afraid to live but I can't keep going with the way things are. I'm afraid to try anything because I may not like it. There goes all that wasted time and energy and money. Then, lesson learned mind you, I'd be back where I started. I always come back to where I started because I think small and dream smaller and that's no one's fault but my own but fuck it and fuck you.
Fuck you.
A hummingbird drinks and Rhandi crys. I should also be suckling but instead i wallow in shallow waves of discontent and self hatred. And question. and rage. And live in my head til I feel like it's about to burst. Then i share this nonsense with another ego and everything else that I had built falls and crumbles to nothing. Yeah, I've been sad since I've arrived here. I have yet to make a true connection. Sure I'm a little guarded but who in adulthood isn't? We go through a lot of bullshit just to be here....sifting through other people is no different. I have no patience for these jobs I participate in anymore. I use to be able to assuage my soul's cry by repetition and the goals of other people. Maybe I have no goals and that's what makes me such a malcontent. Maybe my dreams are bigger than my reality, therefore I can't imagine them possibly coming to fruition. Perhaps 'achieving' something isn't all there is to living. Helps to be screamed to about it though.
I'm trying to live day by day and I continue to grow smaller and smaller until I fear I'll disappear. I was once visible and vibrant and ready. I use to be fearless. Nearing on reckless. Make a decision, boom. Action, boom. Now my 'booms' come from angry slamming doors and the pounding of my empty heart. I continue to refuse to accept that this is my life and maybe that's why nothing is changing. I thought beautiful events would occur and lead me to more of the same. Can that even happen when you don't know which way to go? Where to turn? Who to seek out? I fight against all of the inconsequential garbage I've built, like who I am and what the fucking point is, and now I have no time to do anything real. Anything of value has long ago left. For too long have I hated and raged and avoided who I am and what I've created. Now I look back at it: This empty thirty years of and in no particular order, lies, inaction, adoption, occasional decent person, scumbagscumbagscumbag, brief travel highlight, death, life, acting highlight, brief periods of action followed by me just returning to awful me. I have forgotten how to cultivate anything good. How do people do this? How do people live their lives with meaning and purpose and love? I would rather watch people live and love then acquire it for myself. I have it and I turn it to shit. Or it turns to shit cuz that's what happens. How can I be happy for someone else, excited for someone else when I feel this way?
I will never meet the standards i have set and revive daily. I want to come up for a wee bit of air but I don't know how and the what? Then fucking what? More cyclical treadmill of stupid wants and petty desires. I always thought i was here to do something special. To be someone special. I bet we all think that at one point. Well, those thoughts still bounce around in my big empty noggin but I've completely given up on meeting them. I had hope for things once. Now? I simply wash rinse and repeat...on to the next day to complete the same menial tasks that were accomplished the day before. Nothing changes. People stay the same and I'll continue to watch from my perch...not alone mind you, cuz my throbbing, raging cancerous tumors will fill in all the holes.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Poopypants McBoogerson
Tis I! I am thee! I thusly spread my poopypants mcboogers all through the lands. I am a thief of happy thoughts. I am the darkness which enters in ever so slowly only to shield itself from discovery and then WHAMMMMM-Oooo! I am an algorithm? Am i timeless piece of history only because others say so? Apparently....tiny yet even still....
I am reluctant towards most things. I think I hate everything. When did that happen? When did I allow that, THAT to take over? Take precedence. I am not listening to the right shit, pardon et moi................I got homework from fucking work today. What the fucking christ hell is that miserable bullshit? Seriously, what? Do people not understand that this job is not for me? Can they not see that I DO NOT belong there? I should be hissed at and spat upon post haste, shoved from out doorways immediately and cursed! Fucking cursed. What is wrong with our society that we have created a fucking occupation that requires us to not only stomach one another but the ingrates that frequent such establishments? What have we done to the lower class? They are slaves in green aprons and plastic smiles and hate in their hearts. We don't need this brown putrid 'luxury'. We don't this refined sugar and ingredients we cannot pronounce let alone synthesize in our own kitchens. I need something more than this. I need something that isn't lacking in soul and creativity. We are automatons. We are creepy units of mindless busywork so that we may distract the herd from their tragic little lives. Why must I pretend everyday of my life? Why?
I am in a new land. Newold. It's lonely here cuz I've forgotten how to meet decent people. You have to sift through so many fucking duds, it's exhausting. Crushing, even.
I forget why i do things. Always in my head I am. To the point of great confusion and occasional animosity.
I think I sprained my ankle on purpose so I wouldn't have to go to work at 5am. I fell so weird and fucked myself up so bad....a little too bad? Am I capable of that? Of course it was fully subconscious if so...what possibilities. Back to algorithms....I am a product of my past. Google told me so. My past choices have brought me thusly and I choose based on such. If man can make a fucking program that does this, why would it be inconceivable that we're not controlled by the very mechanism that produced us?
Why do i miss things I once despised? Why reverence when the moments passed? Is it a simple, 'don't know what ya got til it's gone' type bullshit? I'm much smarter than everyone I work with. Without question. Like, that's not even an ego boost....totally. Ugh.
I have friends dammit. They're far away.
I am reluctant towards most things. I think I hate everything. When did that happen? When did I allow that, THAT to take over? Take precedence. I am not listening to the right shit, pardon et moi................I got homework from fucking work today. What the fucking christ hell is that miserable bullshit? Seriously, what? Do people not understand that this job is not for me? Can they not see that I DO NOT belong there? I should be hissed at and spat upon post haste, shoved from out doorways immediately and cursed! Fucking cursed. What is wrong with our society that we have created a fucking occupation that requires us to not only stomach one another but the ingrates that frequent such establishments? What have we done to the lower class? They are slaves in green aprons and plastic smiles and hate in their hearts. We don't need this brown putrid 'luxury'. We don't this refined sugar and ingredients we cannot pronounce let alone synthesize in our own kitchens. I need something more than this. I need something that isn't lacking in soul and creativity. We are automatons. We are creepy units of mindless busywork so that we may distract the herd from their tragic little lives. Why must I pretend everyday of my life? Why?
I am in a new land. Newold. It's lonely here cuz I've forgotten how to meet decent people. You have to sift through so many fucking duds, it's exhausting. Crushing, even.
I forget why i do things. Always in my head I am. To the point of great confusion and occasional animosity.
I think I sprained my ankle on purpose so I wouldn't have to go to work at 5am. I fell so weird and fucked myself up so bad....a little too bad? Am I capable of that? Of course it was fully subconscious if so...what possibilities. Back to algorithms....I am a product of my past. Google told me so. My past choices have brought me thusly and I choose based on such. If man can make a fucking program that does this, why would it be inconceivable that we're not controlled by the very mechanism that produced us?
Why do i miss things I once despised? Why reverence when the moments passed? Is it a simple, 'don't know what ya got til it's gone' type bullshit? I'm much smarter than everyone I work with. Without question. Like, that's not even an ego boost....totally. Ugh.
I have friends dammit. They're far away.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Confinement
I am a solitary creature. She says with a smirk. That's a pretty final statement. solid. heavy. Pretty fucking true. 'No one ever did anything of note alone.' Really? The few people that could stand in their own yet not of the time that I truly adore and admire were all solemn in sordid solitary.
Who do I listen to?
My hatred for all wins out so frequently...should i be worried? and why? call me abnormal or absurd...
Perhaps I'm not evolved as once thought. Me mE and me and alone of course. Not said with sadness.
Then something kicks in and I'm a mess. I am not a bar person anymore. Never really was. Meeting people in those environments is badnews bears. So. Extra-curricular. Volunteer work. I don't want it to sound douche-like but that warms my heart to think of it. Meeting others would be a bonus? Still undecided on that one. Why am I afraid to meet people? Am I really so lost in the negativity of what that means. Well, could potentially mean.
What is an alcoholic? Truly. I know when I see it. I suppose it's a variety of things, really.
(It creeps me out knowing that at any moment someone could come through the door and then sleep in the same bed as me...it kind of bizarrely blows my mind.)
How do i get fully comfortable around someone! ...and not just to be a total bitch about it?!
Right, right...alcoholism.
I think death is necessary. That sounds silly. Of course it is. I just seem to find death easier to tolerate thinking of it in this manner. We spend our whole lives trying to figure out how to minimize the nasty and nurture the rest. It's all nasty. Things. things are like death. Little tombs we build up and around until one day we're sick and old and need to perish. I miss people that have died. Don't get me wrong.
I don't want to get to know his friends. Sure you can be friendly with them but it never really gets any deeper. How can it? You haven't put in the time and here you are sticking your face into a hand-picked family, expecting to be let in. Comfort around one another grows but nothing real is ever really shared.
Even when it is, it isn't.
Who do I listen to?
My hatred for all wins out so frequently...should i be worried? and why? call me abnormal or absurd...
Perhaps I'm not evolved as once thought. Me mE and me and alone of course. Not said with sadness.
Then something kicks in and I'm a mess. I am not a bar person anymore. Never really was. Meeting people in those environments is badnews bears. So. Extra-curricular. Volunteer work. I don't want it to sound douche-like but that warms my heart to think of it. Meeting others would be a bonus? Still undecided on that one. Why am I afraid to meet people? Am I really so lost in the negativity of what that means. Well, could potentially mean.
What is an alcoholic? Truly. I know when I see it. I suppose it's a variety of things, really.
(It creeps me out knowing that at any moment someone could come through the door and then sleep in the same bed as me...it kind of bizarrely blows my mind.)
How do i get fully comfortable around someone! ...and not just to be a total bitch about it?!
Right, right...alcoholism.
I think death is necessary. That sounds silly. Of course it is. I just seem to find death easier to tolerate thinking of it in this manner. We spend our whole lives trying to figure out how to minimize the nasty and nurture the rest. It's all nasty. Things. things are like death. Little tombs we build up and around until one day we're sick and old and need to perish. I miss people that have died. Don't get me wrong.
I don't want to get to know his friends. Sure you can be friendly with them but it never really gets any deeper. How can it? You haven't put in the time and here you are sticking your face into a hand-picked family, expecting to be let in. Comfort around one another grows but nothing real is ever really shared.
Even when it is, it isn't.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
