Whine-Rant

Trying so hard to get out and live to seize the day to go out and do; the obstacles presented problems discovered nothing can just go right.

Alone accompanied what to do? Where to go? To a club a bar a party not my “scene” – to wander the streets alone just as pitiful as sitting at home uptown alone. What is desired? What is sought? A companion, someone with whom to share the life the laugh the night, with hwom one can truly be free be aware be true?

Or is just sought a change a break from the monotony something new to seek to learn to do? Vindication, maybe; verification that the life-choices made were in fact the right ones, that things really will work out okay in the end?

Left right everywhere praise acclaim astonishment at all that has been as of yet “accomplished” — and for what? What extraordinary has been done, really? Leaving school twice working contractual freelance jobs providing zero work stability, no guarantee that there will be a “next time” – being the absolute bitch of several producers and having no choice but to put up with it, even if it means working wasting my time for naught? To be used so and tossed aside, to have nigh all calls and messages from seemingly interested companions completely ignored and unanswered — to be forced to live in a tyrannous household far, far from the city desired the city loud the city yearned for so. What praise, really?

There is no stability. There is no structure of school or schedule to keep time by. There is no promise of having a job of being paid of having somewhere to crash at the end of a day.

Accomplishments, hah. I have done nothing but ride the waves of my own creation — and look, look indeed and in truth where they have taken me.

I’d rather be fishing.

A Letter Unsent

L—,
Thought some on what we spoke of the other night; it’s inconsequential whether or not your friends, your family – hell, even your boyfriend, adore you as he does – understand what you choose. It’s your life, it is, and you’re not living it for any of them (as life is, always, the most selfish of human interests); if you are discontent with your lot you ought to step up and do something rash – you’re still young, very young, and there’s no sense being unhappy during these few years that have such potential to truly live. You CAN screw up, make bad choices, live any way you want to. It matters not whether they get it, really – life is too short to be unhappy, and one thing I can tell you is you got to be free.

Live.

Z

What Must Be Done

Well, that’s just it.  I had no real reason to be in class – most of it I knew, and I was dropping out anyway – but I made myself go. I had a responsibility to be there and so I was.  I owed it to myself, my family and the few peers humble enough to swallow their pride and ask for aid when it was required.  And so I went.

The thing is, I never really had to think about this; it is What Must Be Done and that is the only option, no matter the personal burden it would festoon.  You should see now why it bothers me so when people – any people. Most people – refuse to step up and do What Must Be Done in their own lives own worlds.

[No idea when this was written. Was in my notebook. Might be on here already, not sure.]

Flip-Blink Crazy

Damnit, I’m too alive to sleep or study. I’m lying in bed reading a letter over time and time again, can’t stop reading it thinking of it thinking about everything. Alarm set for 5:15 but it doesn’t matter; exam at eight and that doesn’t matter either. This letter is just so… I don’t know. It’s life, and I can’t explain it.

I’m insane, zany, flip-blink crazy.  Euphoric to the floor but with no reason for.  I’m so very out of it.  And not under the influence of anything, mind you.  Tonight was a good night, methinks.

Cheers.

Madman: On Self

“Why are you trying to push me away?” quickly deflect swoop past carry on the push.  Show you what you fear long dread to see know feel; the truth the real I as it is as it always has been.  For me it is nothing life world for you revelation horror disgust; achievement of T. S. Eliot namesake of trinwords; “I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”  Dust for me, sandstorm for you.  No matter; flip the switch.  “sorry for the delay, I had to calm down so that I wouldn’t say something I’d regret.  now that I’m calm: please don’t ever talk to me again.” – the expected response the wanted the shifted-to the goal reached.  This method works always and it’s the easiest.  Note, reader, that in life easy isn’t always best – but it works damn good here.  That’s the thing with manipulation, though; careful words maneuvered positioned placed to make you think it’s your idea.

If I’ve done this to you and you’re reading this there’s no harm in your knowing that it’s never your idea, and it always works.  It’s not personal, so don’t feel too bad.  If you read this now and it happens in the future,then you’ve got an extra layer of protection in knowing whats happening, if you can spot it.

People claim brilliance, personality++, perception+, great friend, listener, resourceful et cetera; claim what they will, I of me never claim goodness as a person.  If I’ve got a problem with a situation – rare but it happens – then there will be action taken, eventually.  Don’t need your sympathy, concern or care; I can deal with life on my own, though I’d rather not – and only then if I request it.

Cheers.

192 Pages

I look in this book log Moleskine of mine and I can’t help but wonder.  In the two months of having this I have used 24 sides – 17 pages – of its 192 total.  This, of course being written on the 34th side.  How has this tiny collection of thoughts shaped me, changed who I am how I think live exist by writing these trivialities ideas words as opposed to keeping them locked up in the brainpan to be forgotten?  Since the book, there has been a change in outlook on the world, plans for future, thoughts on that which I am and am not familiar – but is this because of the book has it facilitated such growth or has it been independent of my wordkeeping?  I wonder indeed.

Some time ago an… acquaintance said she did not think I’ve found my message or some such yet.  But is there one, or a need of one for that matter?  I’d pose ‘Discuss.’ but I know not only is readership here bloody nominal, those that do read don’t really comment.  Oh well; so it goes.

X

In My Head (Zombie)

It occurs to me that the reason I perpetually listen to music is so that I don’t have to listen to that which is in my head.

Job.

’s strange.  I’d never had had a formal job interview before yet now in the past two weeks I’ve had two.  Aye, my previous job there was talk with the manager owner franchiser yet that was more of an… interrogation, really.  The Madman might have another job soon, folks.  We must hope so.

Now Over

Argue with the parental now over a backdrop of Dylan’s “Rolling Stone.”  More frequent now more real now.

“How does it feel to be on your own with no direction home?”

How fitting.

Madman 02

My mind it never shuts off never stops never ceases to do. Always thoughts or music or lyrics or poetry or questions or logics ever words. Never a visual no ‘inner eye’ no ‘imagination’ no ‘close your eyes and see‘. Close my eyes to a world of darkness floaters maybe veins if bright enough. Don’t ’see’ words just think them unable to turn off. No ‘clear your mind’ – it can not be cleared; clearest it gets is music and lyrics. People ask what I am thinking but usually no thoughts just music, music playing flawlessly no beat skipped no word missed all of it in my head blaring noise without a sound.
Listen to music now when I sleep. Helps by drowning out the thinking constant ever-present flow stream train of words – words re: life, universe, everything. Don’t think ‘I wonder…’ ‘that hat is nice etc.’ no real words just thoughts of words always words.
I don’t understand ‘what do you think of…?’ – I don’t think of. Ask Roark. People say smart brilliant brainy genius wise adjective – I see it not. It is the flow the feel the mind ever-ready with a comment quip remark comment gobbet, if you will (thanks, Irwin).
Have read it said this all is depressing sad pity-worthy – I see it not thus. It is, and that is the way it is. I know pity not. From the mind from whence I came it is not a permissible feeling – it does not exist. There is no fear (for fear is the mind-killer, the little-death et cetera) no pity no envy no sympathy and so on. There is me. “I exist, and that is enough.” (Sartre). It is a freeing way to live, to be and it is the only way I know.
I seek not your pity, your sympathy feelings prayers (though much appreciated as they are) – I seek only your eyes that you may read, your ears that you may hear, your hearts that you may love and your minds that you will learn and know.
Know thyself, know others know the world that is for the world is everything that is the case and that is life as I see it.

X