Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Stories

Revelationary thought...

I dream of being other people, a lot, maybe like a bar fly, romanically drinking my life and art away in some Parisian cafe in the turn of the century or a run down bar in the bowery, cheap rotgut stinging my belly. I don't ever dream of being me, or someone normal. It's always a dream of the movies.

And I realized, our society is nearly tied up in 90 minutes to two hours. Always an ending in an hour to TV shows. And maybe that's why life seemed more simple at one point, because stories like The Odyssey took weeks and months to tell. No one reads books, which take forever and a day, and back then, you could only read during the day or by candle light.

You never see how hard it is in the stories of people affected with a traumatic illness in the movies. Everyone is always brave and strong and true.

No one ever gets tempted, and if they do, they are usually killed or able to reconcile.

Our morality and rules for ethics is shaped by culture and in effect, our attention spans for our lives have decreased while our need and ability to live longer increases.

Monday, November 28, 2005

Bored sameness

I yearn to talk to someone, to share something, anything.

The same web sites, the same movies, the same, the same, the same...it's all in my head and none of it interesting. I want some spark, I want something different, I want it to not be I and the same - sharing and learning, that's what i want. I feel insulated in an amber of sexlessness and plastic.

Anyone ever feel that way? If a blog falls in the forest, does anyone hear it?

Blogs were made for these

Life is, or at least it should be, a constant redefinition and search for answers.

I’ve gone the opposite route from Descartes. He questioned everything and then realized that he couldn’t question God and therefore, existence. His round of questioning led him to find something to believe in.

Instead, I sit here in a dark office with headphones on and the only thing I can be thankful is that I like the song that I’m listening to.

I’m overwhelmed at times – when one tries to be understanding to the world, all ones does is become the receptacle for the refuse. Or to put it in better parlance, I’m covered in shit.

Somedays, I add up the times that I get talked down to. Other times, I just sit here and try to will the world…stop it from spinning, but only where I sit, so I can be thrown into space and blow up like a giant balloon and pop, spinning and careening wildly through the ether until I disappear.

I feel like a kid at Christmas, but I don’t even count down to anything positive. I dream of a day when all the hard work pays off and when I can actually believe people when they talk to me and when I can believe in you again. Because really, I don’t believe in anything at all ever.

The other shoe will always drop. The good will always die young. But I’m getting old.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

Raccoon eyes

I don’t know what it is, but for someone who hates makeup, I sure do have a thing for dark eyes. I notice it turns up in my prose quite often, to wit:

“She had those hollowed out, blackened smoky eyes that almost make me wreck my car when I’m staring at them as someone catches my eye in traffic.”

I noticed it again this morning. On the bus. A woman, the whole way in the back of the bus, black teased hair, dark shadowed eyes.

Maybe because it’s not natural and breaks from my pattern of only enjoying natural things.

Then again, I believe that if you try to read too much into what you like, it takes the magic away.

Monday, November 07, 2005

Horrible creature

I feel like there is some inherent beast within me that demands so much. This beast that sits in front of a monitor at 2 AM, horny and awake with need, one hand on keys and the other on wet, dripping hardness – begging, cajoling, surfing, trying in vain to find some contact and closure and need for sleep.

I wish I could kill this beast – stab it with lances and lead charging horses around it bearing flags and boast of it, like it were a boar we were ritually killing for a king's feast.

But I can't. Today, I'm clear.

Hours from now, the beast will live again.

Breakups, blame, etc.

One of my students is going through his first breakup.

What a horrible situation to be in, what a mindset to have to challenge through.

To be 19 and a romantic and upset at the world again.

It makes me think of a Morrissey song, "Now My Heart is Full." Seriously, like, every Morrissey song is the end of the world. How he never killed himself is beyond me. And now, I see his new concert film and he's smiling and happy. So, I guess, there is some moral to be gleaned from all of this.