Sunday Morning Thoughts 10.21.12

And with the wink of an eye, all of this life passes and crashes and if you be foolhardy enough to look for any kind of reason, you may very well find one. Reason is quite unreliable though. I can personally attest to that, or at least I believe I can. You see, the truth business is a bad one to be in. I suppose I should have stuck with marketing like was forcibly decided, then changed, based upon deception half a decade ago. But then I wouldn’t be here which I am uncertainly certain that I am, if such a thing as here is much of anything.

That’s absurd, of course it is. It’s not delusion for it is only and always perception. And what I perceive is skewed against the long forged fallacies of life. I am trapped, so to speak, or better yet, jammed. I am positioned in a place of brutally limited motion, and although it be temporary, my mind, she bends the time. She makes it so that I can only wait and worry consciously whilst making successful ventures without a thought. Some of them even have the pleasure of meaning something to me. I couldn’t say how many were meant by some, but I perceive some, or at least at time I did.

And that has gotten me here, seemingly buried in nonsense that only hinders the crafts, and trades, and skills that I crave to hone. Yet the political economy I am lucky enough to have, gave me no explanation in how it got here, and less to do with where such a beast will go. Look as it foams from behind its teeth and drips every drop upon the floor.

The future is a drag the way we try and have it. Too much limit I suppose. The extra weight from the shackles will force us to make a much more harsh landing. Insert metaphorical death comfort statement.

And there’s the crash again and you’ve found yourself in a place and there’s trees dripping with golden fire and yet you sit about and complain about agreed upon engagements. They’ll take away your life for the cost of only one soul. So what does it take to get it back?

If I knew such things, I would wish to find other answers. I ask my reflection for the only stern advice a drunkard would be willing to confirm as worthy of recognition. They look to me for affection but I am only so capable. Don’t look at me with worried looks, I can handle all that is placed upon me and then some. I didn’t want to play such games, yet that choice was not left to my making. ‘Twas decided way before I was even considered. How inconsiderate.

So here’s the alternative answer. It doesn’t leave, if it was ever there to begin with. It’s a scar, if you like. We pick our plot points and despite how most of them end up being B-list at best, we are consumed with grand ideas of value that is there. Can’t you see it? All about and around and we, as in you and I, just wondering about why, or more importantly, who cares?

You’ll have to pardon me. It’s election season and I can’t decide whether to vote or not. They say every vote counts but for me personally, that’s bullshit. If I do vote, I’m voting for a third party.

“Would you like a medium or large?”

“Small please.”

“We don’t have small.”

“Well what the fuck?” said he as a chair was grabbed and raised over his head. Through the window and into the parking lot. He didn’t move for a bit, then he did. The next person sets up to the counter as Julio sweeps up the glass.

And seemingly suddenly this rage that has become too familiar, is yet again rising upon me. Here I sit after whining about not have the time to do the things I care to craft for weeks and I get the shot and I’m so out of practice that nothing seems to fall forth. Out of the many issues, grammatical and not, occurring in that last bit, two of them stand out.

First.

Whining takes up time: I don’t got that kind of time. Stop whining, save time. How’s that for a tagline? I should be on the goddamn radio.

Second.

Nothing comes forth? Are you fucking kidding me? You spend all day freaking out and daydreaming and yelling and going off about this and that, and this makes me mad and why do I have to do this, why, why, why? And yet, when the time comes you can only continue to complain. At least now, it’s about myself.

So there was this guy, right? Lived on the other side of the world and worked in this sketchy place. And his boss dies, and his boss was a pretty big dickhead but there’s supposed to be a designated time that everyone is supposed to mourn for, like required by law, when this guy’s boss died.

And this guy, who’s a military kind of guy, has a few drinks allegedly. And since it was supposedly during this mandatory time of mourning, the dickhead boss’ son gets all fired up about it and since he’s the one calling the shots now, he decides on an action. So that military guy is told to stand in this one spot, where they send a mortar shell to meet this military guy. They meet and both he and the shell cease to be. He was charged with being ‘insufficiently glum’ which earned him the sentence of being erased from the physical world. This actually happened, allegedly.

Why go on with a story like that? I’m not going to answer that. My apologies, but I just can’t. Or won’t really.

Regardless, there is no more time for nonsense mostly because I don’t know if there is anything called time to begin with. I have to continue to play like there is, but that will be worked away. The thoughts I have in regards to being stuck in this body is that I had best exhaust every effort that I am capable of conceiving. But here I am, only talking about it again.

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Sunday Morning Thoughts 10.7.12

Destruction has gotten me right here, to the scene of the crash and the beginning of all this. If there is such a thing, this cyclic debauchery will receive its justice but if that be by the hands of I or another is yet to be seen. By mortal eyes, at least.

Let’s talk about that for a while, mortality I mean. The last time one of these silly little posts happened, I was some sort of grown boy with no real perception on the possibly farced idea of life. I couldn’t know what it meant to die, or loose life without notice, or fall away from life suddenly, or whatever it’s called. All the deaths in my life have been expected.

I knew it all in theory but theories don’t tell you about the shakes, or the sweat, or the smell, or how no matter what that once you start to go down it rapidly becomes just you and your thoughts alone. When the sand is nearly out, you can no longer connect with the rest of the flesh around you as they ask all sorts of questions. When you die, you’re alone. All living things die alone.

“Whoa, whoa there B-ri. Take it easy man. You’re getting pretty dark, pretty fast.”

“My apologies, I suppose.”

“You suppose? What an asshole?”

“It can’t be helped.”

“Listen man, I know what you’re going through, or have been through has been rough but you need to stay positive or some shit.”

I don’t know how really.

I sit across from a seemingly lovely young lady. She is dressed very hip and sexy and has a little dead man being tortured and executed hanging around her neck. Her boyfriend, or whatever is standing a few feet away. They paid cash for the train and will be dead soon. In geological measures of time, of course.

And to be honest, I would probably grow bored with her quite fast. Her boyfriend seems like a wonderfully dull idiot. Let him deal with her.

I’ve moved my attention to the barefoot woman drinking a martini that is as blue as the sea that stretches out before her. She is trapped forever behind a thin sheet of plastic until she is replaced.

Behind her is a man who seems to be in the middle of some constant anxiety attack. Behind him, some old hag reads the Times with a forced face of interest. Some people sleep, most don’t want to be here yet here we all are.

And with that we’re further along in time and I am back on a train, not unlike the one that brought me here. I am heading the other direction back to the place that I woke and will fall back asleep in. Yet somehow, I want to feel different as I rise from my bed in a few hours. I want to feel inspired to pursue dreams in daylight instead of clinging to the dirty, dark and dusty recesses of my mind. I’ve wanted this many times before but it can always seem to fade. You’ll have to forgive this romantic addict, I can’t seem to abandon what I can see as the greatest thing to every happen to my soul.

Whether it was or wasn’t, is irrelevant because it clearly was. Issues arose and continue to arise when I seek some sort of fulfillment for something that had been left so empty. I would wish for something but I know how fruitless that would end up being. Wishes are for suckers and genies.

Hindsight has allowed me to regret what seem to be all the decisions I’ve made. It takes longer to think away some things, whilst others are forgotten with ease. I wonder if genies ever at least try and make their own wishes. I wonder about things for days. I wonder if genies ever regret.

I do. I should have stayed at school that weekend. I should have paid better attention to him. I should have gotten to know him better. I should have never wasted that money on those tickets and I should have never wasted that time in the pursuit of such thinly veiled evil. I should have found out what was wrong before it was too late. I should have gotten over that evil faster because then my timing would have been perfect. I should have called the ambulance myself. I should have been better to him when we were younger. I wish I could have made things work. But I didn’t and now here I am.

So this search continues for that thing that I’ve gotten a handful of glimpses and tastes upon my 5th of a century hanging around this rock. I think I saw another glimpse today but I may never be sure.

I didn’t rise quickly this morning. I seem to be ending a little more solid. It’s been nice to cheat a few more moments, to feel that sadness. I confessed to someone my petrifaction in these, my last moments of boyhood. That all ended a long time ago but I seem to be hanging a few months behind.

This is my announcement of its death. Do not grieve friends, it’s what was wanted. Death to videodrome. Long live the new flesh.

So where to go from here? Well, we could and should start with an issue. A real issue though, not something trivial from my own.

Turn on the tube and see a story about a soldier with no hand anymore but there he is. He’s in the back of a Jeep, waving away. As it goes down street, the people wave back from the sidewalk. It was sweet unless you thought about it a little bit in context. He still has no hand other than something shaped like it that doesn’t move and it doesn’t feel. Treatment mentally and physically will be pricy. Good thing they’ve been taking such good care of the vets when they get home. These are men who are dedicated to an idea that hardly sees it as fiscally responsible to help them anymore.

So I wanted to get some facts about how care for severely injured soldiers, of which there is no shortage. It’s important. Bill Moyers told me so.

That’s not the point though. The point is when I typed a simple search of ‘injured veteran’ an article about a NY Jets who is injured appeared first. Now it’s important to remember that this may only be strange to me. Or coincidental. But it also might not be what I see it as, which is worth nothing I imagine.

A different channel and an attractive blonde woman is stating that something is ‘crazy town’ in regards to politics. I guess you just have to appeal to demographics, right Ted? Now they are worried about smirks and eye contact from a debate where absolutely nothing was said. Here we are, at the most crucial point thus far in the age of primates and disaffection is spread across the masses. We are so consumed in things and mindless distraction. I think most people that call themselves American are working towards this annihilation. They’ve got the best seat.

Al Gore blamed the altitude in Colorado for why the President seemed to have no answers at this staged argument. His opponent said things, a lot in fact. He was just lying the whole time. I suppose that makes Barry better. How sad is that?

I get why people like him, I do. I used to. He has an appeal, especially to the dumb and young. He just seems cool and he’s set to win. Unemployment just fell to 7.8%.

They don’t count the people who have given up looking for a job. So really, more people could have just given up and no real gain in work occurred. I’ll never know. Well, I might eventually, but I don’t know if you will. You could if you’d like to, but you’d have to do it on your own.

We’ll take a slight direction change. This were thoughts in a pizza place, all hopped on barley:

And this world keeps yielding blanks, with no substance coming forth. I wish there was and there might have even been something worth showing, but I ran away too soon. I can do that is I’m not paid attention to, which is exactly what didn’t happen. I was noticed and held interest for a few young women. I’m not mad at them, I just figured I’d runaway before things got too strange. I may have timed this escape perfectly. 

I supposed that I’m in dire need of a new obsession, but if she can be found here, she’s taken. It is the nature of things that happen to me as of now.

The best part of that little bit, isn’t that I didn’t proofread or correct any of it. It’s that I’m not going to bother with talking about it.

I’m going to talk about how it’s funny to see some place of meaning on the news. Obviously there was a crime. ‘Twas an attempted rape after a bout of successful ones in parks throughout the city. Then comes all the latest updates in terrorism.

I’m spoiled really. I get to sit here and look out my window and not see explosions. I get to come up with ideas in decadent comfort. This won’t last though, so the chance to find the merit of such theories is nearly upon us.

It’s been two years that I’ve been doing this. Over two years now, since it’s been a month since the last one. As I stated before, I am a different person now. I suppose that is true for every single one of them.

No, that can’t be. This line in between comedy and tragedy is only one fake bird head away from becoming nothing at all. There is no difference, it’s only how you see it. It is your grand and self sculpted reality, or mine really. I can’t be sure that any of you are real. I’m quite capable of grand illusion, even still.

Especially so, if you consider the effect of the madness that is being a functioning, if not high functioning member of society. This may only be in display but I think I support my means by that. Pretending all of the time only makes me a better actor.

And I found myself in the wee hours of the morn, dressed in my garb from the evening with the taste of boredom still upon my lips. I have since gotten up and wandered around earth for a bit. What have I learned?

I’ve learned that this life is short and is set up to be wasted. I know that I see this, and a few others but most are blind. I know that I won’t be able to live with myself if I do nothing about it. I am unable to do some things but this will not be one of them.

I may fail and chances are I will. That’s fine, I have to try. It’s chaotic and grand. It’s a sad a beautiful world.