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Monday, July 13th, 2009
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1:17 pm - Slip into the outside
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Standing aloft 22 stories up in the steel cage glistening with interminable precision. Wander out near the glass and see the city as if it were a painting. Towers break through the sunlight, Churches are dark below. I imagine Taking the box and throwing it through the glass. Inside they rush towards me, pull back my arms, howl menacing threats... the world tilts. Everyone is sweating. Boss hails the cops. They are also animals, but in a different kind of cage. I shake them off and break through the glass. What I wouldn't have given to understand just one of those boxes. I fall towards the dust. Everything, girls, drives through the park until I reached the cemetery, cigarettes, books and newspapers sequentially becomes less significant as I go down. Why did I get on the ride in the first place? Why did I ever swim out this far?
I was lured out into the dark, chasing the storm riding along dark clouds beyond. Out on the ocean the water promised never to let me die.
Is the presentation ready? Yes it's all ready here we go. I fire up the projector, effortlessly navigating the installation. I go through the slides. My eyes dance from their faces to their meaty hands. Hair on the knuckles. I'm stretching into something else, is it caffeine? Psychoses? Initially I had some questions about the process, there were a few elements that seemed to lack efficiency. But being new I thought maybe I don't yet understand it all. And later it was true, there were some things, some ways that things were done that came to make sense. But there were other parts of the process that could have been done better. I talked to the other members of the team, I made flowcharts and they agreed. The system became optimal.
And now I've gotten a raise, and now I'm on my balcony. No cigarettes that's bad for you. And now I realize I have been in the bathroom listening to the faucet for 7 hours.
I slip out into the hallway, safe here. Turn on the air conditioner. She shifts in her sleep. I love you so much, you are my life. You are my best friend, you are my only friend. I love that bitch. You won't wash dishes again, you won't stand in line. Move up against me. My fingertips give thanks to your breasts.
Was it all imagined? At what point did I lift off from reality? Well it's my dream isn't it? Take a deep breathe, play the piano. It's getting colder, I'll live with this. I'll keep my mouth shut. I'm a patient man. I'll reach the outside.
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| Friday, March 27th, 2009
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9:24 pm - Stabilizing factor
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You know Sometimes I wonder if I'll live through it. My life. As I go careening across the circuits of consciousness. Trying to ride to the end of the spark, where the signal terminates and everyone arrives at the door.
I never feel totally sure what is going on. Whether I'm inside or out. I see a flash and then its dark. I return to something resembling consciousness and find myself floating on the blue notes, the cartoon raindrops, I feel it light up inside of me, the mystery, the world so small in my pocket.
But outside it's all carbon and dust now.
And she's by my side, my girl, my wife. Black hair shimmering under the streetlights. She tells me not to be afraid of the sleek figures that dance like chickens behind the barbed wire. She tells me come here as she skips along making cheap clothes bought from the street hawkers look like diamonds.
As we whistle past the men with pamphlets of nude women. I'm glad she's mine and I've won the race, and they can't divert my desires into something insignificant.
We go underground where people punch each other behind the turnstiles into bloody piles of coins and fashionable shoes to gain a small advantage. The light is killing us all. We pass through the tunnel, up the escalator into the hazy night, where cars cram into any possible open space. I cough for a minute, struggle to breathe. A man is beating his steering wheel than has a minor heart attack while receiving a call from his mistress. I take his cash and set him on fire so everything can be forgotten in blazing white. People stop and stare then resume what they're doing, they think it's part of the show.
We walk through the expat part of town. The bars peeling white -long since turned gray paint- stuck in a state of perpetual dilapidation through the past two decades, they stand defeated with their railings crumbling into the ground. Texas themes and New Orleans, abandoned tracts of condominiums unoccupied since the 90's when buildings popped up in the boom swing. It's gone now. All gone. Korean style scrub houses sit beside Cabarets with nails rusting along the vacant slats of the Marquee now home to prostitutes making catcalls to the men in taxicabs. Many have children of their own now who've gone away to join the mob protesting the Prime Minister.
She pulls me into the bar, we listen to jazz and blink at the pictures of partygoers parading unshirted, hurling beads. Havanas for sale in the Humidor. My ears ring, it gets louder. I feel afraid. I am perfectly contained inside myself.
But what can I expect when I'm trying to think of every angle of enlightenment and opium dens. I stop all the fear when I see her crack a smile. Just like the fresh fruit in iceboxes below the high-speed rail. Just like the children in the interstices of the traffic jam peddling flower wreathes. There is something beautiful always. You help me see it you keep me sane, you let me forget about the distance left to travel.
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| Sunday, December 7th, 2008
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1:52 pm - Tuesday will come
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On Friday my boss told me our department will probably be cut, the CEO will decide on Tuesday. I work remotely so all I had was his voice. It's nice, to not have to see his face and the fear and the anger. I have those feelings too, I have a lot of questions. First of all why couldn't the CEO decide on Friday? What will possibly happen over the weekend that will make the decision more clear? I've always felt everything I do for another person is worthless so I can understand if I get laid off. I know, eventually someone else will get hired to do what I do now and everyone will feel good about it. Shuffling the chairs on the deck of the Titanic. It does seem cowardly to lay someone off when there's really no need. I work for an institution in no danger of insolvency, it's just that someone needs to look like they are doing something and laying off people gives the air of making the tough choices, being proactive. Your own mind can swindle you in this way. Particularly in times of desperation. People are really nothing more than sprockets and cogs. People want more and more until there is no more to take. When everything is good rewards are given out, promotions announced. When times are tough there are no softball games or company dinners. The boss turns his back on you. Flushes. I understand the satisfaction of flushing. It's unpleasant to have shit sitting there even though it's your shit. You don't care where it goes you just want to flush it down and pretend it never happen.
This has taken a toll on my relationship and at times I consider calling it quits with that too. My wife she too is merely a sprocket, why she's just dragging me down! No that's not how it works I'm not going to lay her off when times are tough. I'll make the sacrifices for the good of us all. I'm willing to have less so we can both have something. I know that's too much to ask of a corporation.
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| Wednesday, July 4th, 2007
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12:51 am - They don't care about us
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I wrote my friend a letter. You were right, right all along. They don't care about us, these corporations, bodies without concern for their limbs. They'll let their own limbs atrophy before giving you a grain of humanity. Magnificent steel 100's of stories high. It ain't worth a damn, let it crumble, it ain't real. It's a movie screen. I used to think there was some humanity inside the walls, behind the desk, beneath the suit and tie. There's not. It's all a machine. Sub human particles, rules and laws about about laws. It's not human. Love is human, work is misery. I felt bent out of shape about it all, realizing this, so I took a stroll around San Francisco down the steep hills watching cars swerve around the trolleys, cutting through traffic and I thought to myself, this city, is a good city. It's good to me. It's criminals and insane. I like them. I like their songs, and their begging. I like their pissing in the alleys. I like the underground clubs and the chichi trinket shops. Yes just when I thought I'd go insane, that I'd go run screaming into some church ablaze with vitriol. I didn't. This summer night in San Francisco saved my life. San Francisco saved my life again. Wandering around in an endless night with the Chinese out numbering the white people, San Francisco and the Chinese. They were here from the start, coming in on boats, slinging chop suey into antique porcelain bowls. I like the Chinese, I like their loud obnoxious language. They earned their place, let them fill the buses.
Now the vodka and cherry are burning my chest. A good clean burn. A rum ride through hell. I'm enjoying myself, slip sliding all the way down. They won't defeat me. I'm too strong too smart for that. I'll get my vindication. Complete justice this time. I'll take my time. Because I've been out of the cave a long time now. I'm the crazy man who became sane. Drinking til I'm sober again.
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| Wednesday, March 28th, 2007
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10:30 pm - swell
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I had a feeling something was happening on the elevator ride up. Me and the girl in a tube top rising to the roof. She was near, her smell hypnotic I was not in my right mind. Rip off the clothes, crash into flesh. It was the taste of it I sought.
The fever I'd had the past few weeks had shown no sign of abating, the delirium of self-medicating to escape the square cityscape. These are times of too much caffeine to rise and Valium to fall. Boxed into a circumference of introspection. But I've realized you can't trick the clock, times moves on, the wall pushes you on. Nothing more between us occurred that's the truth, but in several fantastic imagined incarnations simultaneously arising she was stuck to me in different possess and suffocating my solitude, she was the all soothing panacea, the type of thing that erases the anxiety and allows one to fall into one self.
Other times, during bus rides a man in a trench coat will abruptly change seats to an equally crowded area on the bus, though there's no sense of sexual dejection it makes me wonder if it's evidence of flaws insurmountable. Should I care, probably not. Should focus on being kind, finding the true soul of myself, trying to love and not to hate. Sorting through the rising tempers and tough talking politics, just want to take it easy, drive real slow, no rush or pretense. Play the slow cool hand.
Locked in my room, it's Saturday, midday cars push haltingly past Chinatown, I can nearly see a Church jutting out behind with quasi-crystalline glass adornments. God himself swirls thorugh the shrine. The apartment building across from me blocks most the view but I can get a glimpse of something beautiful, edifices strangely reassuring, progress has been made, all hope is not lost. But it's a game of circles for me. I'd rather stay inside, riding on luck a test of enduring hours. Without any effort at all, I find my personality shifts, old interests retrench themselves present passions wane, I thought I'd become someone else, someone better but I'm the same, but there is variation in accepting your own sameness. Triumph in not saying too much.
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| Sunday, January 14th, 2007
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10:27 pm - Going somewhere
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I was looking at an ex-girlfriend's myspace page. I wonder if she checks this out sometimes, I know she doesn't miss me, but is she curious and if so why? We are no longer in the gone years. She's become more attractive over time, a face that commands repeated glances, she was always very creative. Dreaming of wood elves and designs in the clouds and the endless sea of stars above. For a moment I wished we'd never broken up but then I realized I am better off without her, more free, more well positioned to fulfill a destiny of infidelity and short bursts of sexuality. I realized I missed her in an alternate lifetime mode of thinking. In a what might have been type of thought. With memories you often remember things more positively than really occurred. Memory is more easily assembled and understood, less fractured, stressful and confusing as the present always is.
I was looking at the bookmarks in my web browser. Thinking about what I thought when I bookmarked sites I never visit. David Lynch and a DNS tracking site. I was going to get in touch with my eclectic surrealist side with Mr. Lynch and find the true location of my lying lovers spread around the globe with the latter. I think a lot of beautiful thoughts but they are almost always depressing. There are glimpses of the serene. The green light behind the fountain and mist slowly drifting down. Do I seek something quintessentially complexly arranged? I don't think so, it's more simple. It's only a brush stroke amongst the many strokes. It's the larger set of circumstances which are beautiful. The people passing by, the expensive W hotel beside the art museum, me having finished work. Because the future is unknown and from nothing women, friends and money have become mine.
I wish I knew the plot, that life wasn't random truncated bursts of perception. I wish there was a masterpiece boiling in my brain, but I am an ordinary man. I ride the train with the others, the empty seat awaits me, they've calculated my fare before it's paid. They know to expect a crowd at certain stops and others require only a minimal wait for everyone to get on board. The scenery passes by not frequently changing but we see different faces in the clouds. All those time lines the ones of hope and reality are converging across the single lifetime we live. It could be better it could be worse, that's what I often say. Why these words and the equilibrium or should I say mediocrity they infers comforts me I'm not sure. Sometimes the music helps us remember, and other times to forget but whether coming or going the end will be the same for everyone. That's another one that's reassuring.
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| Saturday, November 11th, 2006
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9:27 am - And for now
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Waiting all week for the weekend... all week I was feeling close to a type of situational awareness, like you could uncloak the secrets invading your sleep addled mind. I could almost open the door which ceases all anxiety. I could nearly reveal the eastern wisdom that ties opposites together. These worries what are they about? Inferiority what does it mean? Put it in perspective, can I accept my circumstance, could've been a tall tree could've been a pine cone.
Starring at the monitor 18 hours everyday fills my head with propaganda with pictures of celebrities, lives torn apart what am I supposed to think? I look away and I find I'm traveling between the synapses through channels of sound and childhood reflections. Why didn't I want to swing together in the park? Its well after midnight I’m drinking down wine I bought for 4 dollars at the market downstairs, by the bar by the impossible people to acquaint myself amongst. White wine drink it slow. I’ve got nowhere to go and I picture you with me it’s autumn the sky is clear and cold, all the animals asleep in their castles and frost sheaths the broken cornfields. I can spin my timeline like a DJ turntables broken beats. The crushed broken grape, feed it into your mouth, there's no training required to anesthetize one’s mind. It’s miraculous that we've alighted into stupor without even trying through the ages.
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| Saturday, September 23rd, 2006
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10:41 pm - Let me tell you a story
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There's slants in between the sound. I occupy that space, it's all in my head this life, this world. I look around and it's just me all the time, standing in the living room or now driving listening to the radio drum a good beat. It syncopates to exactly what I need to understand. I think of all the lives I've wanted to live, how long I've lived the same life of wishing for another one. Lights flood the windshield, cars zip by the beams elongate, distend. Awake again four times in a minute, focus on the road ahead. Will I crash? Will I laugh as the space grows smaller and smaller? Is it a headache or a heart attack? Head home drink down some sake, nullify any anxiety as I try to erase any remberances of lost loot and subservient games between me and the boss. Ask for permission to go to San Francisco, see if he thinks I'm qualified, am I getting everything done, it's unnatural to care but I play along. I play the game and I don't like it. But I'll keep quiet until I find a way to be my own master, when I can paint acryllics or sit in a cool damp cave carving faces out of stone, doing whatever I want when I want to.
I've spent so many nights wanting to lick her lips, feel her tits put my arm around her waist. More than half the time I'm busy wishing I was basically someone else. What does it do to me? All this astral projection isn't good for a man. It's a life on the screen, not true to my own line of vision. I sit back slumped in the chair and steer through hours of solitude. Time takes its toll, time has a price that compounds. It gets impossibly heavy if the dream eclipses reality entirely. I know I'm not alone in being alone but I'm the only one who drives my car. I've somewhat mastered this with my sight set on 20 years from now, somewhat resigned myself to doing the same thing everyday. I dream of Jubal and his beevy of bitches, did he have a place in Los Altos hills, a hot tub and an intercom system. A refrigerator stocked with pickles and beer. I dream of snapping into a different lifetime, finding an alternate destiny waking up as myself but with more money, more hair more height, I'll take any one of these and be at least partially satisfied I promise.
And more often than not I'm breathing shallow breathes drowning out too many thoughts with cool Japanese rice wine caught up in a fantasy replaying a good dream, watching a movie, listening to a song, not living my own life.
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| Sunday, September 3rd, 2006
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9:00 pm - the lights are out
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On the way to 7-11 I stopped at a row of flares in the road. The traffic lights were out-of-order. I needed beef jerky, soda... caffeinated. Couples strolled by me, not checking if I'd stop, not caring if the lights were out. I wondered is it real? This loneliness, no one rides beside me. One guy was tall, wore something pretty but his date interested me more. She had huge tits, but her ass was out of proportion, she was limping. Did she always limp? I could love a girl like that. I'd enjoy the first date, I'd wonder if she'd reveal that set to me.
Now I'm back, it's Sunday night. Tommorow is a holiday but I'd rather keep working, I don't mind doing the work. I don't care about evenings or the weekend. It's never a holiday if you have to come back. I can't turn it off, the subservience, toil it doesn't go away just because you take a break. Me, I'm seeking total escape. Now I'm only killing time, following my instincts. Trying to break out of the routine, find a way to open the door. Will it always be a dream? I wonder, will I never watch the shoreline disappear? I'd like to say goodbye to cut out the ones who crush me, to seal myself away and for this to have only been a long sleep.
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| Thursday, May 18th, 2006
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7:43 pm - Wrong way on Lausen St.
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After a mistaken turn I arrive at a secret place, where a tree grows which no one dares to tame. Sun filters rhapsodically through the cathedral of prickly green leaves... time collapses it is uninteresting. The limbs strong from the tree's unrestrained exploration brush against little else but the sky in this place the other universe until the buildings and the ringing reveal themselves. The tree is obscene a desperate complication amongst all the people well dressed yet antlike fanning into the interior. Everything is a perfect split-infinity with roots that tie us to necessity and limbs that yearn for chaos.
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| Thursday, May 11th, 2006
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12:59 am - Can you defeat time?
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These are long days, hours spent in my apartment, resigned without protest to solitude. I sit in my chair down whiskey and spin clever words to carry me through these endless hours. Clouds disappear into the darkness, and the moon resumes revolving through it's many posses. I've watched it many hours, it's always familiar and faraway. It's best not to count the hours, better to drift into a blur. I'm waiting for the trip overseas, waiting for the freedom to never see a face I don't want to see. Swim in the ocean, jog along the shore, say goodbye to pleasing anyone. I'll do as I please, I'll study Monet or the lineage of trees.
Sitting here late at night, watching the clock revolve, I am well situated in a daily routine. I feel like I'm holding my breath, yes it's a long swim underwater and I'm impressed with myself. I can hold it for a long, long time. I'd like to speak another language, I'd enjoy hiding from everyone I know in a different tongue than they recognize. I am not who you suspect, I am not anyone at all. I'd like to say goodbye to everyone with lots of cash hidden in vaults from Rome to Singapore, a man with endless hideouts, because I've devoted myself to disappearing and anonymity. I'm the man with the key, no longer worried about my face, it's like another lifetime to care about anyone's impression of me, I'm more concerned with fading out, with not being subjected to their psychoanalysis. I don't care what you think of me, I've got myself figured out now, I just want to break from your tiring circumference and live in a limitless succession of reinventions of myself. Move from town to town, wife to wife. No one gets to be too familiar. Sell the car burn down the house and never look back.
I've set myself back 30 years with foolish pursuits, but I haven't destroyed myself, not yet so there's still gotta be a solution. I sometimes catch a glimmer of waking up that day, the day I take a deep breath and follow only what I fancy. The boss is ok, the few friends and women in my life are good distractions, I love them for the diversion they provide, but we all know this isn't enough, there's got to be a march into solitude. I'm a mercenary, trust no one, depend on no one, live alone and uncomplicated, I could easily say goodbye and find them again in the ever repeating collective of our similarities amongst the people, the world over. Now's the hard time, most of my life will be the hard time, but I only need a few years of satisfaction for all the sacrifice to be worthwhile.
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| Wednesday, April 19th, 2006
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8:47 pm - Can't sleep and can't die
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Awake,
Dreaming of the big score
When doors swing open and I can crush the past
It’s a steady racket cruising zombie-eyed most of the time trying to make some bread while the men around me march in cadence to the traffic lights it’s a tiring way to live
I find the small spaces I can survive, I get by that way
Through the temple and the trees I seek the places I can be unknown, where I can watch without being watched
Is it foolish to hope for a miracle
Where’s my gold bars, hell I’d even accept a large stack of coins
This time I’ll be careful with the exchange
And I don’t care what side of the world I end up on just as long as I never take another call, no more services provided no more calendar or scheduling software of any sort
Only me and the disappearing world, nothing will remain
So lend me your poetry, give me all your words, anything, anything will do
A verse or two without conceit, something biting, true and painful
Sing me your sad song, give me your bad breath, let’s puke together out of the moving car window. Let’s drive to the top where everything below seems small and far away, it seems so far you can momentarily believe you’ll never have to go back again. You can sit in that late night chill, vomiting out your guts, together, at peace and far away
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| Sunday, April 2nd, 2006
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1:01 am - Yea Yea
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Want to drink, want to smoke, and slip into a half-asleep state of mind. I want to color the sky in crayons... chalky strips of bright red and yellow. When the world outside is cold and I’m alone there’s only dreams and intoxication. The full lips of a 21 year old girl, her face she knows what she doesn’t know, but she knows I want to follow all those poses in the photographs locked flat on my screen, they draw me in and make me wish I was someone else. So cold outside, that intangible sadness just a few steps and I’m back stuck inside. Want to smoke a cigarette now, don’t want to sleep just a few minutes ahead the truth will come crashing out of me. The truth will be Buddhism or breathing out in short puffs into the chilly air. Trying less is doing more. That’s the hardest thing for me to understand. If I could see the end zip through my own life and observe every consequence maybe I’d finally follow my own advice. Why can’t I replay my own timeline? It’s my life isn’t it? I’m alive aren’t I?
If I could hold you near, tear away those other guys with the shaved heads, and storybook lives. But I can't won't shouldn't. Why seek what I know I don't deserve?
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| Monday, March 20th, 2006
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12:51 am
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And everyone was there climbing the stairs there were no railings, no walls, nothing to stop you from falling endless feet below. But what if you fell, it was only a fall, there was no bottom only an endless ride down. like a video game with a broken sky making machine. Climbing up or going down there was a similarly perplexing observation. There was no end in all directions. Was this a riddle, an allegory? Where am I really going anyway and why should I care if I rise or fall? What if I cannot rise? What if there's no reason to fear falling.
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| Sunday, March 5th, 2006
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12:44 am - Jamaica
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I’m almost asleep almost dreaming of you
Hearing those sounds again, the ones that keep me awake
the sounds we all recognize from within the windows of the soul
they erase everything
After they fill the room there is nothing that can help me remember, soon it’s only a matter of cruising through my mind, like a child again, there’s no words to design the space, no description to give it life only eyes open wide and the process of discovery
Cruising through the galaxy everything’s spectacular, stars are made of porcelain you can climb them like candy canes
Oh man I’m going crazy shaking between identities
Freezing in the rain, what am I doing outside?
What am I doing here?
I’m climbing up electric fences to go between my senses
What a sensation to climb through these sparks 7 stories high I climb across the electric charge, precise electrocution aligns every side
When I lie down will anyone revive me? Will you crawl with me into the screen, where they can’t chase us past the red blue and gold. Hear the fairies chant in pixel vision, bodies almost unreal stretching into vines, impossible positions.
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| Thursday, February 2nd, 2006
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12:47 am - stormy weather
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Sometimes I feel it's left me, the ability to decipher the hidden side of my mind. It's difficult to understand logic and emotions, why a man gets twisted over a woman who clearly takes more than she gives. Right now I've got close to nothing and it's not too painful. In times past I really agonized over solitude, lack of cash and hope. But currently I'm sitting here not playing their games, not playing into anyone's need to be adored. Taking, and giving nothing in return. I can't make sense of every ambition, motive and insecurity. It's best to think at the high level, not to try to fathom the circuitry of anyone else's mind. It's hard enough to think while they blast bad music from the loudspeakers, and the boss makes you shovel his shit. When your girl disappears with another man, who's obviously more presentable. I'm trying to live comfortably on the highwire, where the ground is constantly shifting. Where silence is shattering the windows and walls. I can hardly believe the horror of this stillness. I'm doing ok in spite of the uncertainty, from the lack of response to my questions.
Sometimes I want to cry for strange reasons, a picture in the newspaper of the senate race, cars parked in a driveway... clouds passing overhead, nearly touching the rooftops. Sometimes everything is unbearably sad like sopping wet leaves swept to the gutters. I cling to the chance the storm will break, that everything, everything isn't an illusion, love is attainable, faith, trust that we can be together for a long time without any interruptions
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| Monday, December 26th, 2005
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1:02 am - Wait for the dawn
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Sitting shoulder to shoulder we keep warm
watching the sea and sky blend together
Only a few people remain, slipping in and out of darkness against the flickering tides
Maybe I'm in America, maybe not, I only care to listen
to the sound of the tides which simplifies this posessed feeling I've got
I fear what I'll do after the money's gone
and the world calls me back to it's suffocating embrace
I'm unsure what comes next, how I'll escape this time
but I will
find my way to you, near you,
and we'll kiss like cymbals crash
as a fire burns beneath heaven
and I wait on this side of eternity
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| Sunday, December 11th, 2005
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1:14 pm - Love
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You know it's a word of serious consequence, so much so, we may deny it when it's there. As I sit here contemplating love I feel my head stuffed with logic, but something interrupts the process and wonders why we pray? The contradictions of unifying with someone else, it's not easy for me to understand. I hear answers raining down, I'm keeping a record of them here for us to read. Love is not about ourselves but always someone else. Love can never be requested but can be recieved and given. Love appears to be evil, when sinister ambitions parade around beneath it's name. Love is not sinister, love is love. It hides in the rooms within our mind, it may be very small like a little boy with knees bent in the far corner slumped against the wall. I've tried to have it many times, I've tried so hard I made it go away. I've drank and smoked my mind away to erase it, but I've come to believe even death won't diminish the colors, because love endures all. I guess love is something I'm going to have to deal with. Figure out, or not figure out.
Perhaps love is very simple, something too simple for a complicated mind and I'm not smart or stupid enough to cease craving a chorus of hours an unrestrained harmony of emotions. I don't really know what it is I want or if I've been decieved to crave what I don't understand. I'd like to love her madly all the time maybe some day I will.
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| Saturday, December 3rd, 2005
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8:15 pm - life
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I remember last November, lonely but hopeful. Waiting for my wife the months were long but I knew they'd end. I have to admit, it hasn't worked out. I try and trace the source of the conflict, the reason for the split and what I could have or still can correct. After trying for days, I'm starting to think I'm sealed off from the answer, that doesn't stop me from seeking the source, from wanting to call her, ask the right question. But I know this is my time to wait, my time to feel the drag of days. I think back to my old girlfriend, she wasn't so bad, sure she had a temper, was antisocial but those problems have become so small, the reasons for dividing irrelevant. Of course I can't go back, time isn't friendly in that way. But it's nice to rewrite history, to revisit memories, to understand even when it's too late to make a difference.
I don't know if my wife is having sex with a more charming and handsome man as I write this. Sure I want to peek in the window and know. I want to ask why couldn't you give me a chance? I was ready to believe in you, I would have trusted you if you let me, I would have let you go without insisting you return. Why isn't me that you dance beside, I'm not the one who excites you, not the one who captures a smile.
I admit this is breaking me, inside I'm shutting down for the winter, hoping one day I'm free from this. That there's another girl, another chance, a genuine attraction. Now I wouldn't take you back if you asked me, but I know you won't ask. Now I'd like to call and listen to the background noise, I'd like to see where you are on the map. When I'm wise maybe I won't have these desires, or come close to considering them. For now I'm haunted by everything I can't understand and is closed to me. That you've won and I've lost. That I'm alone and I don't know where you are or what comes next. If I knew what happen next, even if it was ten years away I could carry on easily, but I fear the descent and the dark, waiting in a cold room. Not learning anything and repeating my failures. Do you feel you've shaken me loose? You're out in the open? Are you smiling and laughing on the telephone? Are you thinking of me at all? Can I train myself not to be concerned, to cut the loss at once and shift towards pleasure and not pain? I don't want to go to work come Monday, I don't want to come home. I don't want to lose again, I want you to come home but you won't. No one packs up all their things if they're coming back.
time + time = time. I want the right kind of medicine to last me until the morning.
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| Saturday, November 19th, 2005
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11:33 pm - I'm glad to have my whiskey
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It goes down hot and blurs my mind. That's what I need right now, this ridiculously expensive bottle of whiskey. I'm grateful for it, it doesn't quench the thirst but something else, something combusting inside my mind. The mind that sneaks up on me, tells me stories about my woman and other men, about being foolish and alone, having no self control. It puts a part of me to sleep and that's what I want.
My friends couldn't help me tonight but I know they wanted to, that was enough. Thank you. Unfortunately everything is always up to me, I've sought someone to save me from myself, someone to tell me what to do, but no one's got it right, and the one's with advice only want me to do the job their too lazy to do. All I want is this single malt and a long black night, no need to sleep, or think or hope. I'm done with that right now. Everyone is ridiculous, some try to hide it through denials of different sorts. Egoism and passive agression. A potpouri of strange pyschological hide-and-go-seek. I also play this game, though I pretend to be self aware, I duck around corners hiding from myself, hoping everyone will see this and listen to what I'm afraid to say.
I'm not drinking to get drunk right now, just to soften up my mind. An hour can kill a man, so I'd rather drift through the night. Doing nothing isn't easy, it takes much more skill than action. Letting the drag pull the engine is hard when your mind is racing. Quiet the mind, it's not so easy, sit still, I want to say something. Will the last one out please turn out the lights?
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