Time goes by so. The substances of my life are clear, removed.
Tonight is the peak of the Geminids, it's freezing rain under neon pink skies. Sat in the pews at church today, indulged in many blank moments. Was tapped on the shoulder by a leak in the roof. Read an article on film in a 2006 journal which referenced Ararat.
Dad visited for Thanksgiving, it was pretty bitter. We're all a little sick in our own little ways, disappointed in life's many twisted facets. I worry a little about my effect on my brother. Though perhaps it can't be helped.
Haven't talked to Chelsea or Erika in a while. I don't think they cared to stay friends with each other, and maybe it's the same way now with me. Mike seems to linger in an awkward stage in life, one of pitiable denial. Garrett lays an abandoned wall of silence. Who else was there.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Nature's Design
I've been to Cleveland and back. Again. I hope this is one of the last times.
October left all in one day; without warning, no moment for pause. A wind came and took every leaf off of the trees, and into corners of yards, gates, and houses.
I've seen a sobering perspective grow since I had to leave for Cleveland. I was racked with anxiety over my dad - his failures, his life-style, his health. It's been neurotic.
Maybe it is because the last week has been straight-grey from rise to rest, but my nerves have been twisting through the rafters. Maybe it is because I am crawling in circles away from cigarettes. Maybe it is because I do not exercise enough self-control.
But as was a case in the past, maybe it's because I am alien.
I was on a trip recently and saw something new - or rather noticed something lacking - boundaries. I saw perceived boundaries dissolve, saw nature's driving force not as components of the system, but the system itself. We are no more driven in live than a rock is driven to exist. It's inherent in nature's design.
October left all in one day; without warning, no moment for pause. A wind came and took every leaf off of the trees, and into corners of yards, gates, and houses.
I've seen a sobering perspective grow since I had to leave for Cleveland. I was racked with anxiety over my dad - his failures, his life-style, his health. It's been neurotic.
Maybe it is because the last week has been straight-grey from rise to rest, but my nerves have been twisting through the rafters. Maybe it is because I am crawling in circles away from cigarettes. Maybe it is because I do not exercise enough self-control.
But as was a case in the past, maybe it's because I am alien.
I was on a trip recently and saw something new - or rather noticed something lacking - boundaries. I saw perceived boundaries dissolve, saw nature's driving force not as components of the system, but the system itself. We are no more driven in live than a rock is driven to exist. It's inherent in nature's design.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Written into Lawl
A very good October it's been. Can't really say too much, except it's been very easy going, the fall colors blend well while life's complexions smooth into something I can see for the first time. Buddha someone wisely said something, which expresses this better than I might. Psych's brought new perspectives to feelings I've always repressed. Compulsions and desires slightly revealed. How pleasant, to feel. Sam-E as well has been really helpful. 5-htp, sam-E, and fish oil are about all I require these days. It's been... rejouvanating.
Renewed my license today, some states really blow when it comes to motor vehicle regulations. It's been a beautiful and clear past two days, an shallow ocean bathed in the warmth of fall foliage. Ironically, no pictures to beat.
Not really many photos taken, not really many words written. But it's been a time of contemplation not production.
There's a good chance I'm taking a train out to Cleveland next week, my expectations don't exist at the moment. Perhaps it'll be best not to think too much about it, rather just work with what may come.
Aint talked to Garrett this month, should give Chelsea a call. Saw Erica and Alex. Lawl. What to do, what to say, time to sleep.
Renewed my license today, some states really blow when it comes to motor vehicle regulations. It's been a beautiful and clear past two days, an shallow ocean bathed in the warmth of fall foliage. Ironically, no pictures to beat.
Not really many photos taken, not really many words written. But it's been a time of contemplation not production.
There's a good chance I'm taking a train out to Cleveland next week, my expectations don't exist at the moment. Perhaps it'll be best not to think too much about it, rather just work with what may come.
Aint talked to Garrett this month, should give Chelsea a call. Saw Erica and Alex. Lawl. What to do, what to say, time to sleep.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
october forever
Not in Yardley anymore. Maybe a little hypomanic, but I'm not sure if you can only be a little. It's weird, to feel good. Never really remember feeling so... it's not bad, but it's almost jittery. I feel hot and cold at the same time, but my mind... it doesn't cling, it isn't the neurotic I remember. It's, like opening a can of fresh memories. Fresh colors. Or maybe Yardley is just too close to Jersey.
Garrett's off to school, I have only seen a few people. Chelsea called, I haven't called her back yet. I need to. I'd like to talk to her. I miss Marilyn and Tiffany. I noticed most of my friends have birthdays in October. Funny things.
I received a great gift in the mail today, but I'm not sure how to weigh it's potential. We'll see.
page no longer blank
clarinet in the corner, orchid on the chair
heavy sighs are let out, pancake's apathetic soul
lays next to mine
a wrinkled peace flag stuffed against the wall behind a lamp
nobody outside; it's suddenly october
the school bus drives past your teetering consciousness
but you may lay soundly, you high school graduate you
you college drop out you
flinches from pancake's sleeping body meet
my dry hands as they wobble
not at will above
the keyboard
weak from so many
words, never put down
pat walks out, it's october forever
again
feeling ill in my bowels from too many cigarettes
not really any food
just a shot of liquor
dusty dreams, long ago pawned
placed back into the store window, and stared at
longingly
as if a dream not lived is any different
than those impossible ones
12 bucks cash, laments a kid homeless at will
no children, smiles the dead alley bum
the soldiers spit and the lawyers point at it
the doctor heals it, greenpeace recycles it
to feel so filled with such a thin liquid
tense realizations followed by loose hands
maybe not
maybe that's what human feels like
i can't anticipate the next eight hours
what faces will bring to my spirit
to awake and be alone in thoughts
and alone
from the things which extend from me
i breath the sighs and cries of the weary travellers
falling upon the cold station concrete
it'll be not so easy to gauge what i really admire
when my body is never all together
your index and thumb squeezed to your lips
such abandonment saw time very still
it's the end of july in october, baby boy
time to remember yourself so enamoured in february's scarlett fingers
and to sit upon it's molted memory till nothing,
less than ash, lingers on
it's the end of july now, today is
october forever
Garrett's off to school, I have only seen a few people. Chelsea called, I haven't called her back yet. I need to. I'd like to talk to her. I miss Marilyn and Tiffany. I noticed most of my friends have birthdays in October. Funny things.
I received a great gift in the mail today, but I'm not sure how to weigh it's potential. We'll see.
page no longer blank
clarinet in the corner, orchid on the chair
heavy sighs are let out, pancake's apathetic soul
lays next to mine
a wrinkled peace flag stuffed against the wall behind a lamp
nobody outside; it's suddenly october
the school bus drives past your teetering consciousness
but you may lay soundly, you high school graduate you
you college drop out you
flinches from pancake's sleeping body meet
my dry hands as they wobble
not at will above
the keyboard
weak from so many
words, never put down
pat walks out, it's october forever
again
feeling ill in my bowels from too many cigarettes
not really any food
just a shot of liquor
dusty dreams, long ago pawned
placed back into the store window, and stared at
longingly
as if a dream not lived is any different
than those impossible ones
12 bucks cash, laments a kid homeless at will
no children, smiles the dead alley bum
the soldiers spit and the lawyers point at it
the doctor heals it, greenpeace recycles it
to feel so filled with such a thin liquid
tense realizations followed by loose hands
maybe not
maybe that's what human feels like
i can't anticipate the next eight hours
what faces will bring to my spirit
to awake and be alone in thoughts
and alone
from the things which extend from me
i breath the sighs and cries of the weary travellers
falling upon the cold station concrete
it'll be not so easy to gauge what i really admire
when my body is never all together
your index and thumb squeezed to your lips
such abandonment saw time very still
it's the end of july in october, baby boy
time to remember yourself so enamoured in february's scarlett fingers
and to sit upon it's molted memory till nothing,
less than ash, lingers on
it's the end of july now, today is
october forever
Monday, September 21, 2009
blessings
Back to a blanket on a grassy little knoll in a park approaching sunset, there's a kid's running club and three mushrooms watching me. The sunlight rapidly warms your body, the shade cools you down quickly. I am laying in and intersecting the light and the shadows, breaking the thin boundaries between.
Deneice confronted me again today in her passive agressive way. Told me Cheryl was ready to move out of the Yardley household because of all the drinking and drugs. Not only have I not gotten drunk since my birthday, but Deneice is equating the hookah to drug use. I feel I've met a fully matured case of neuroticism. And it takes one to know one, or at least takes living with one to recognize one. Little does she know Cheryl will probably leave because of her, long before she'll leave because of drinking and drugs.
Air is a funny girl. Very much a girl, and above all so young in the heart, but immature in the soul. And all of this frustrates me, gets to the thin parts below my skin. What could I ever say? I don't understand what I feel, but it's some sort of jealousy. Envy of an innocent strength, immaculate freedom. To have emotions projected with only the guilt of innocence, the shame of freedom.
And there is a disconnect. I want to do things with her, but she says she can't be around people living at her house. I was given fair warning, but unless it's liquors or errands I somehow become involved in she could be less interested. Fair warnings or not, I wish there were better reasoning behind it - but people, women above all, are far from bound by such a quizzical human desire. But let it be, there are many fish in the sea, though rarely have I glimpsed such creatures.
As one fish, however, all I can do is perceive. Eat or perceive; in an ocean of fish all the same there is not much else to do but sink, swim, or suffocate.
My dad's business is in another trough on it's tumble down. That much has already been known. I have a $275 drinking in public fine I have now ignored for three weeks. It's warrant time. I've been trying hard to forget: this entry is all the proof needed.
Have run out of all supplements except for piracetam, aniracetam, fish oil, and choline. I haven't taken any of these for several days now. I think I was feeling better, perhaps it was the SAMe. But the mood for this month has certainly been making a belly dive. My outlook is not really hopeful, more passive and acrobatic - I am juggling a few sober options, my only options. Stay here and see where this road goes, see what triumph and defeat will reveal to me. Go home in January and go to community college. Go home and still be a basket case. I don't see any other lands for me.
Still haven't been able to write worth shit, draw anything worth while, photograph anything pleasing. I have just been letting things come into me, closing whatever creative gates which weren't rusted close before. Only music has been left open, in and out.
under a quilt of cloud furs
shifting and breathing
who could stand in her lands
where the woven grass trembles
who could stand to listen
to the buttons squeezed through the holes
of the rumpled sweater she wears
to work with a smile, a heart all the while
and you would rather file your nails
to a neurotic rythm of dials
be teased by glory, epitome
enlightened, tightened around her wrist, all hers
a dizzying cycle into the horizon
drawn in the scratch of a child's crayon
it's a bliss and ignorance sewn into beauty
blessed and wretched in the presence of hazy glory
what's hers will be hers
loving and being
who could know their way through her hands
heroines' tales will tell to be fables
Deneice confronted me again today in her passive agressive way. Told me Cheryl was ready to move out of the Yardley household because of all the drinking and drugs. Not only have I not gotten drunk since my birthday, but Deneice is equating the hookah to drug use. I feel I've met a fully matured case of neuroticism. And it takes one to know one, or at least takes living with one to recognize one. Little does she know Cheryl will probably leave because of her, long before she'll leave because of drinking and drugs.
Air is a funny girl. Very much a girl, and above all so young in the heart, but immature in the soul. And all of this frustrates me, gets to the thin parts below my skin. What could I ever say? I don't understand what I feel, but it's some sort of jealousy. Envy of an innocent strength, immaculate freedom. To have emotions projected with only the guilt of innocence, the shame of freedom.
And there is a disconnect. I want to do things with her, but she says she can't be around people living at her house. I was given fair warning, but unless it's liquors or errands I somehow become involved in she could be less interested. Fair warnings or not, I wish there were better reasoning behind it - but people, women above all, are far from bound by such a quizzical human desire. But let it be, there are many fish in the sea, though rarely have I glimpsed such creatures.
As one fish, however, all I can do is perceive. Eat or perceive; in an ocean of fish all the same there is not much else to do but sink, swim, or suffocate.
My dad's business is in another trough on it's tumble down. That much has already been known. I have a $275 drinking in public fine I have now ignored for three weeks. It's warrant time. I've been trying hard to forget: this entry is all the proof needed.
Have run out of all supplements except for piracetam, aniracetam, fish oil, and choline. I haven't taken any of these for several days now. I think I was feeling better, perhaps it was the SAMe. But the mood for this month has certainly been making a belly dive. My outlook is not really hopeful, more passive and acrobatic - I am juggling a few sober options, my only options. Stay here and see where this road goes, see what triumph and defeat will reveal to me. Go home in January and go to community college. Go home and still be a basket case. I don't see any other lands for me.
Still haven't been able to write worth shit, draw anything worth while, photograph anything pleasing. I have just been letting things come into me, closing whatever creative gates which weren't rusted close before. Only music has been left open, in and out.
under a quilt of cloud furs
shifting and breathing
who could stand in her lands
where the woven grass trembles
who could stand to listen
to the buttons squeezed through the holes
of the rumpled sweater she wears
to work with a smile, a heart all the while
and you would rather file your nails
to a neurotic rythm of dials
be teased by glory, epitome
enlightened, tightened around her wrist, all hers
a dizzying cycle into the horizon
drawn in the scratch of a child's crayon
it's a bliss and ignorance sewn into beauty
blessed and wretched in the presence of hazy glory
what's hers will be hers
loving and being
who could know their way through her hands
heroines' tales will tell to be fables
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Birthday in Yardley
There was an odd birthday yesterday in Yardley, you wouldn't know it really. It was a collection of cheap alcohol from Jersey, dirty kids, and whatever else drifted in. Chilled wine, warm sake. Coloured with puke from a twenty first birthday.
Got back from a folk fest in RI, two days excerpted from something lost. Most time is lost time, accidental at best.
their bodies, all of them just
skin
cast from dawn's foggy slip
tours of a wild realm
tipsy
from the magical amount
peace to the lighthouse, to the
birds, the bums
the backs of best
friends
a whole time spent dancing in childish civility
among the peace of a kindergarten monarchy
count the pieces of any kids conscience
cradle its feather weight
remember mum's best advice, "clip your nails,
your wings, get an ocular lobotomy"
when you think too big, when you
soar the seas, when you have
jagged finger nails
creases in the wind smooth against
flat smirks, but can't sooth
sour grins, such swell possibilities
it might do no damage, so try it
barefoot
hike the hills to the valleys, feel
every misstep, all the shards from
every lost dream, how time
is lost, especially, on those who search
a breathless mute could turn air
to the gold we seek, an alchemist's grace
could put the worst of us
to a mesmerizing use:
our foggy bodies will grant every last gasp
our scared soles will vouch for every young stumble
just let us learn to live
without composure,
express our hopeless
barefoot
joys
Got back from a folk fest in RI, two days excerpted from something lost. Most time is lost time, accidental at best.
their bodies, all of them just
skin
cast from dawn's foggy slip
tours of a wild realm
tipsy
from the magical amount
peace to the lighthouse, to the
birds, the bums
the backs of best
friends
a whole time spent dancing in childish civility
among the peace of a kindergarten monarchy
count the pieces of any kids conscience
cradle its feather weight
remember mum's best advice, "clip your nails,
your wings, get an ocular lobotomy"
when you think too big, when you
soar the seas, when you have
jagged finger nails
creases in the wind smooth against
flat smirks, but can't sooth
sour grins, such swell possibilities
it might do no damage, so try it
barefoot
hike the hills to the valleys, feel
every misstep, all the shards from
every lost dream, how time
is lost, especially, on those who search
a breathless mute could turn air
to the gold we seek, an alchemist's grace
could put the worst of us
to a mesmerizing use:
our foggy bodies will grant every last gasp
our scared soles will vouch for every young stumble
just let us learn to live
without composure,
express our hopeless
barefoot
joys
Monday, July 27, 2009
Some Short News
I've started taking aniracetam w/choline supplement to perhaps bring back some sense of clarity. Planning/not planning on going to school in the fall. Unsure of most things, wary of everything else. Hopefully I will be leaving this dashed town Thursday morning for an airy paradise.
Here are some photos of some things I did during a week spent involuntarily at a psych ward:
Here are some photos of some things I did during a week spent involuntarily at a psych ward:
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Where's the Wine
Woke up late today, went for a walk in the woods. Took herbal supplements, now of an improved quality. There's now St. John's Wart, Fish Oil, 5-HTP, Kava, and yet to be ingested SAMe. It's been a cold summer here, but it has begun to warm a tad. It was humid and hot today. Honestly, I prefer the cool summer we've been having, but the plants sure haven't. Still haven't gotten a hang of brushing my teeth, but the nightly baths are important for getting any sleep. Saw Harry Potter last night, wanted to choke a wench. Friend's mostly suck - guys especially so. Where's my wine? Two weeks away.
Someone take a gun to my head, please.
Someone take a gun to my head, please.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Dinners at Six
I went to California, smoked much herb, took much medicine, sought many cures. Spent many days thinking about writing about what I did. But like these plans I always have, such hopes never found fruition. I left the ninth, returned the sixteenth. Five weeks about. Not much to report.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Frog Fuck
Drank 40s with Garrett up on the ol'road Monday night. He had his girlfriend there, so it was mediocre. I scored some T-3s which I downed today. I went and saw Mike for a bit, then went up into the woods with him and my brother. My buzz was short lived, I should have saved all four for today, but when I'm drunk I can be impatient. It was an experiment after all. I only took 100mg of 5-htp today, after skipping my morning dose. I hung out with Garrett for a bit, and then went and visited Nicole with him. Me and Nicole aren't so fond of his girlfriend, and we told him so - which put him into silent mode. There is certainly some things I'll never get about him, and some things which'll never change about him. I'm taking an Ativan tonight before bed, because I'm feeling very anxious about leaving Friday. Who knows why.
like a tadpole
we all grow old
we sprout our adult legs
and cut off our kid tails
learn to jump ahead in life
forget how to swim
we take each new limb
try to forget old strife
search for a new wife
to lay new eggs
in whatever
goddamn puddle
we please
because whether by crane
or crow
man or
machine
our last croak comes
whenever it may goddamn
please
like a tadpole
we all grow old
we sprout our adult legs
and cut off our kid tails
learn to jump ahead in life
forget how to swim
we take each new limb
try to forget old strife
search for a new wife
to lay new eggs
in whatever
goddamn puddle
we please
because whether by crane
or crow
man or
machine
our last croak comes
whenever it may goddamn
please
Monday, May 4, 2009
Silent Days, Under the Silent Sun
Nothing new to report. I take 200mg of 5-htp a day, occasionally ingest some herbs, etc. I saw Nate the past two days in a row, as well as Joey last night. Today I felt rather edgy, felt filled with stale thoughts. Stayed to myself mostly, felt like old times. Mouth tight, words sparse, thoughts futile. Smoked three cigarettes today. I bought a pack of Parliament Menthol 100s, for the first time since I started buying cigarettes. Hm. I leave in less than a week for LA, and I feel apprehensive, because I don't feel ready to go. I don't feel ready for anything. Took an Ativan today as I felt about to brim over. What a lousy day.
reality is a wide web
cast over the world
from our eyes the threads fling
sticking to all
that we think
we see
some of us are stuck
to strong threads
some of us tear
through the thin
ones
it's a trap for us all
each fuck shoots a few more
each death casts an
unbreakable pillar
our web orbits a
silent sun, too far away
to burn the webs
we've wove
here we all breath
suck, and eat
on our silently
webbed world,
prey perched in
cocoons, ready
for the feast
who
will digest me
when my final
pillar
is spun?
reality is a wide web
cast over the world
from our eyes the threads fling
sticking to all
that we think
we see
some of us are stuck
to strong threads
some of us tear
through the thin
ones
it's a trap for us all
each fuck shoots a few more
each death casts an
unbreakable pillar
our web orbits a
silent sun, too far away
to burn the webs
we've wove
here we all breath
suck, and eat
on our silently
webbed world,
prey perched in
cocoons, ready
for the feast
who
will digest me
when my final
pillar
is spun?
Friday, May 1, 2009
Neck Brew
I woke up earlyish today, still have not called Marilyn back. Ate some food, took a total of 200mg 5-htp. The wind brewed the day, and I plucked around the garden for a bit. Smoked some herbs yesterday, and also a little today around noon. Played some guitar. Felt somewhat edgy during midday. Maybe pressure breaks my thread legs. Smoked two cigarettes with Garrett, whilst he necked some freshman produce. I have a cigarette saved for tomorrow morning. We're supposed to hang out with Nate and Joey tomorrow night, which would be a nice way to say hello to my last weekend here for a while. I only have a week til I leave, and I'm sorry I have to leave the garden. I hope things take care of themselves.
spin for their sake,
the trees dancing at midnight
pining to fly from their roots
spin for their sake,
the trees dancing at midnight
pining to fly from their roots
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
One-Way Back
Bought a one-way ticket to LA today, I leave in two weeks. My journaling hiatus should hopefully come back to normal levels now, my absence of chronicles was due to smoky weather. I popped an Ativan with a beer today, and took a bath. I smoked too many cigarettes - this always happens. I still have not called Marilyn back, and still have not received a confirmation of withdrawal from my university. We have had record breaking heat the past week or so, and so much sunshine seems to have done me somewhat well. I am now taking 100mg doses of 5-htp twice a day, once in the morning, one before bed. I still sleep on the couch however, and still need to learn to count my days, my ways, try not to belay so deep into the conclaves of my head.
below the planet
of the apes, i found a dream of mine behind
irradiated rust
in a goldmine of
toxic lusts
the dream had formed
a congregation of
worship, mutated, and mute
they used my dream
to mutilate me, or so
they hoped
but beneath their slick skins
blood still congealed for
teeth to sink into
a lions tail flared
and i fought not to be
pushed into the light
at the end
of the dream
waking i wonder
if this is a dream
i have yet to encounter
or a mirror
facing back
below the planet
of the apes, i found a dream of mine behind
irradiated rust
in a goldmine of
toxic lusts
the dream had formed
a congregation of
worship, mutated, and mute
they used my dream
to mutilate me, or so
they hoped
but beneath their slick skins
blood still congealed for
teeth to sink into
a lions tail flared
and i fought not to be
pushed into the light
at the end
of the dream
waking i wonder
if this is a dream
i have yet to encounter
or a mirror
facing back
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Full, Frisbee
Yesterday I had some eggs for breakfast and took my 5-htp. I had woken up late, around eleven or so, and went and hung out with Mike for a bit. I helped my mum garden a bit, I also planted some seeds. We dug up some weeds, and put some soil and mulch down. For dinner I had made a pizza, and hung out with Garrett for a bit. I went out with him and Jordan to pick up my brother's friend, Mike, from his ex-girlfriend's house. We stopped by Garrett's grandmother's house for a family gathering, it was her birthday. I came home and finished making my pizza. Me and Garrett ended up going out and hanging out with Joe and Nate, we played some frisbee and got some food - vegan pizza and ill-cupcakes and milkshakes. I also smoked some herbs, and had quite an enjoyable evening. This morning I woke up around nine, though feeling a little sluggish.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Lazy by Accord
Up around eleven, I had some leftover 'pizza' for brunch and took my 5-htp. I ate the last of some spice and cheese bread with some hummus and sprouts and cheese, and went and hung out with Mike for most of the day. We went into the woods and I smoked a cigarette. Came down and hung around, I ate some more leftover 'pizza' and took another 5-htp. We went back to his house and hung out until my mum called and I went home. I ate the last of the 'pizza' for dinner and took my evening 5-htp, then went for a hike with my mum in the woods before it became too dark. I smoked two cigarettes in the evening, and only have a handful left. My mum had my phone all day, and it turns out I missed a call early in the morning from non-other than Marilyn. She left a sweet message, and it is funny because I have been thinking much about her and Tiffany. I keep telling myself when I feel just right I will write to them - I wanted to maybe send them each a dinosaur postcard. It is going on two months, tomorrow will have been two months since I was admitted to the ward. What a tumble weed this season has been. By any accord, lazy days lay ahead. Next month I will probably go to California and visit some relatives, we'll see.
Unwoven Divides, Ducks
Tuesday came with much ado about nothing, and left with a lame duck in cloudy waters of a calm sea. I took a total of 250mg of 5-htp, before and after smoking some herbs. In a clouded yellow shed the valley reflected the sun's last gleaming. Pastel divides of my backyard adorned our kitchen's view, peach and blue, the entrance to a cavernous portrait. I hung out with Garrett for a bit, watched SLC Punk with him and ate a ham and cheese sandwich. When I finally felt like sleeping, I was restless and had a little bit of a headache, probably a blood-sugar spike. I smoked some herbs outside my door and went to sleep listening to the internet radio.
Before, between, and after cigarettes afoul my mouth.
Today I woke up late as usual, my sleep still consuming nearly eleven hours. What do I do in all this sleep. My brother was very busy completing last-minute college work, while I lackadaisically romped into the day. A very hot bubble bath and some brunch later I hung out with Mike. We went into the woods for a bit, examining the contents of rancid soda bottles.
I helped my mum empty some top soil bags, and examined the prospects of a garden. It is tax day, so I filed all my taxes, and should be getting $365 back, a dollar for every day of the year. I had four 5-htp today, one before bed. Colors of the dusk's duet were somewhat duller, though keenly as radiant. It was a trash night, tomorrow is trash day.
among the orders in life
disorder is woven
a fabric of duality
sometimes a french duck
sewn at the seams webbed feet
traverse constricting threads, what seem
death defying, can fly
lamely
the patches of our species
bleed for these threads
squeezed for many
coated feces
dyed patterns
deemed grand
a year among twenty spent
inspecting this fabric of patches
says,
"my grandmother's wool blanket
of yarn
strung from streams of thread
from urns
balances not on the edges
of life
but in the rivers
of semblance
unnoticed courses among
mundanity
between the patches
comfort can be concluded"
Before, between, and after cigarettes afoul my mouth.
Today I woke up late as usual, my sleep still consuming nearly eleven hours. What do I do in all this sleep. My brother was very busy completing last-minute college work, while I lackadaisically romped into the day. A very hot bubble bath and some brunch later I hung out with Mike. We went into the woods for a bit, examining the contents of rancid soda bottles.
I helped my mum empty some top soil bags, and examined the prospects of a garden. It is tax day, so I filed all my taxes, and should be getting $365 back, a dollar for every day of the year. I had four 5-htp today, one before bed. Colors of the dusk's duet were somewhat duller, though keenly as radiant. It was a trash night, tomorrow is trash day.
among the orders in life
disorder is woven
a fabric of duality
sometimes a french duck
sewn at the seams webbed feet
traverse constricting threads, what seem
death defying, can fly
lamely
the patches of our species
bleed for these threads
squeezed for many
coated feces
dyed patterns
deemed grand
a year among twenty spent
inspecting this fabric of patches
says,
"my grandmother's wool blanket
of yarn
strung from streams of thread
from urns
balances not on the edges
of life
but in the rivers
of semblance
unnoticed courses among
mundanity
between the patches
comfort can be concluded"
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Small Days for the Small
Had three 5-htp today, after a light easter-bread breakfast, at a rice vegetable-medley dinner, and before bed around eleven. I pulled some grass from the garden, and hung out with Mike for a bit. I went into the woods and smoked a cigarette, thought about filing my taxes. Will do tomorrow. Smoked a cigarette before bed, churned the fire for the evening. It has been very sunny the last few days. Small days for small stuff.
small people are not
so feeble
they get eyes of marble
and brains just as able
need a little less
to keep their best
and often fit in regardless
because small people
might be best
small people are not
so feeble
they get eyes of marble
and brains just as able
need a little less
to keep their best
and often fit in regardless
because small people
might be best
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Old Furnaces, Fiery Habits
Our marathon of Easter at church is finally come to an end, and I go to bed tonight not taking an Ativan. I have been feeling impatient with a slurry of gluttony and sloth; I am gluttonous with my time, and slothful with the duties of a recoveree. I stay up too late, and wake up too late - though I am always trying to be on time. You can't take your time with things, that's the lesson to be learned. I read some of my old blogs, and noticed that my words had more diversity to them, my language was more creative. This is an odd observation to me.
I took two hydros the other night, and fell asleep in a cozy bed of poppies. Saturday night I bought a pack of cigarettes with Garrett, unfiltered. He really is very bad for my health, I'm getting the feeling. I'm getting prepared for a holiday.
On Saturday I went for a bike ride with Erika and Nicole, though it became very chilly towards the end of the ride. We rode out to the horse farm, and Nicole had a fit of euphoria every time she encountered a new animal. I wish I could have such fits whenever I encountered other people. Any thing, really. A note, a petal, a cheek, a tire. Only slants of light in red, orange, or blue can churn a ripple in my veins. And they must be striped with shadows, casting and never lasting long enough to capture permanently. Too brief to be anything more than short term. As brief as an eclipse during birth.
I woke up around ten today, took a 5-htp and an Ativan and went to church. Easter service saw the pews filled. I played on the organ a little bit, it was successful in capturing my attention from awkward exchanges with relative strangers, relative family. It's always seemed relative to how I feel, which is sick if I think about it too much. I smoked two cigarettes today, this isn't good and I don't like this old habit.
Back from church I ate something and took another 5-htp. I hung around the house for most of the day, talked with my mum a bit and kept the fire going. Our furnace is broken, and we are having especially chilly nights, so the space heaters and fireplace heat our very large house. 'Heat' is an inappropriate term really. I took a 5-htp with dinner, and before bed I take another. I do hope I do not burn in the fiery furnace before this night is through.
I took two hydros the other night, and fell asleep in a cozy bed of poppies. Saturday night I bought a pack of cigarettes with Garrett, unfiltered. He really is very bad for my health, I'm getting the feeling. I'm getting prepared for a holiday.
On Saturday I went for a bike ride with Erika and Nicole, though it became very chilly towards the end of the ride. We rode out to the horse farm, and Nicole had a fit of euphoria every time she encountered a new animal. I wish I could have such fits whenever I encountered other people. Any thing, really. A note, a petal, a cheek, a tire. Only slants of light in red, orange, or blue can churn a ripple in my veins. And they must be striped with shadows, casting and never lasting long enough to capture permanently. Too brief to be anything more than short term. As brief as an eclipse during birth.
I woke up around ten today, took a 5-htp and an Ativan and went to church. Easter service saw the pews filled. I played on the organ a little bit, it was successful in capturing my attention from awkward exchanges with relative strangers, relative family. It's always seemed relative to how I feel, which is sick if I think about it too much. I smoked two cigarettes today, this isn't good and I don't like this old habit.
Back from church I ate something and took another 5-htp. I hung around the house for most of the day, talked with my mum a bit and kept the fire going. Our furnace is broken, and we are having especially chilly nights, so the space heaters and fireplace heat our very large house. 'Heat' is an inappropriate term really. I took a 5-htp with dinner, and before bed I take another. I do hope I do not burn in the fiery furnace before this night is through.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Meditations for Suckas
Woke up late the past two days, around eleven or twelve. I've been taking 3 5-htps every day now, as well as an Ativan before bed. A beer with an Ativan make for an enjoyable perk to my day, but it will be unfortunate when I run out of them.
Today I went into the woods and played in the stream, I then had church for several hours in the evening. Everybody's feet were washed, and we have church again tomorrow night. Saturday night, Sunday too. I took an Ativan and drank a beer, took a bath. I ate a calzone I baked, because the dough wouldn't stretch right for a pizza.
Living in this junk heap of a town could make me a chain smoker, give me some real black lungs. But for that reason I don't buy cigarettes, I just wait. I'm waiting to leave again, because being here I've found no purpose, not any great satisfaction. Staying here, I feel I'm taking steps into the legs of my shadow, straying always from the better things, always from the sun. And there are times when I reach a wall, and am face to face with my shadow, and the gaze raises an unhappy heart from within.
Wrote a poem about great dreams, dark dreams, and our bizarre dreams.
Today I went into the woods and played in the stream, I then had church for several hours in the evening. Everybody's feet were washed, and we have church again tomorrow night. Saturday night, Sunday too. I took an Ativan and drank a beer, took a bath. I ate a calzone I baked, because the dough wouldn't stretch right for a pizza.
Living in this junk heap of a town could make me a chain smoker, give me some real black lungs. But for that reason I don't buy cigarettes, I just wait. I'm waiting to leave again, because being here I've found no purpose, not any great satisfaction. Staying here, I feel I'm taking steps into the legs of my shadow, straying always from the better things, always from the sun. And there are times when I reach a wall, and am face to face with my shadow, and the gaze raises an unhappy heart from within.
Wrote a poem about great dreams, dark dreams, and our bizarre dreams.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
A Dozen Donuts, Seven or Less
Woke up late today, ate poorly, took three 5-htps, and two Ativans before bed. Maybe tomorrow I will do more.
Wrote a poem about going to the grocery store.
Wrote a poem about going to the grocery store.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Bottom of the Bottle, Pesto Eggs, Ativan Before Bed
Friday I took three 5-htp, ate, did nothing much; I drank the rest of my wine, skipped yoga, didn't feel like doing anything. I took an Ativan before bed, I wonder if I even fell asleep.
Today I woke up late, ate a pesto egg between rosemary bread, and took a 5-htp. I hung out with Mike, ate a sandwich for lunch. We watched Twilight, and it was as bad, as bad, it was as bad, as we thought, we thought, it, it might, it might, be, be, be. It snowed for much of the day, though none accumulated. I ate the rest of my pesto egg from this morning for dinner, between rosemary bread with sprouts and hummus. I took my 5-htp, and I took another Ativan. I have church tomorrow. I cancelled my counseling appointment for Monday because my insurance is lapsing into uncertain territory. I now have a couple thousand dollars in refund from my university, though it is a small fraction of what was sunk in. I need to try and pay off miniscule credit debts, which I've been too lazy to check.
Today I woke up late, ate a pesto egg between rosemary bread, and took a 5-htp. I hung out with Mike, ate a sandwich for lunch. We watched Twilight, and it was as bad, as bad, it was as bad, as we thought, we thought, it, it might, it might, be, be, be. It snowed for much of the day, though none accumulated. I ate the rest of my pesto egg from this morning for dinner, between rosemary bread with sprouts and hummus. I took my 5-htp, and I took another Ativan. I have church tomorrow. I cancelled my counseling appointment for Monday because my insurance is lapsing into uncertain territory. I now have a couple thousand dollars in refund from my university, though it is a small fraction of what was sunk in. I need to try and pay off miniscule credit debts, which I've been too lazy to check.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Dorm Room Scripts, Spider
Drank too much wine, maybe ate too late. I had trouble falling asleep last night, but woke up very early. By about eight I was awake. I had a silver dollar pancake, and also some pesto pasta fried with an egg - I took a 5-htp. It was going to be a warm day, so I went outside and plucked weeds from the garden for a while. I took some photos too, of a spider in the garden, of green growing out of the dirt. While petting Monster I felt a bump, and with a pair of tweezers plucked a giant tick off her back. What the heck, cat.
We got our furnace fixed, on the cheap. I hung out with Mike for a bit, ate some pasta shells for lunch, and then went up to the woods to burn some reed tufts with a magnifying glass. There were insects which looked like ticks crawling all over, so we left sooner than later. I played some video games with Mike, and then went home and ate some dinner. We had homemade lo-mien, and a glass of wine. I got a call from Sharisa, so I went and met her up at the university. She's practically what I remember from two years ago. We met in front of the library, and then took a bus to her dorm. We talked for a while, while I tuned her guitar. Majors and life directions, habits and rituals. She wants to study script writing, which I didn't know the university offered. Not to an effective degree. Eventually we took the bus back to the main campus and visited her friend, hung out there for a while and had smoothies. I haven't had a smoothie since I left the gym. Finally we walked back to my car and I drove her to her dorm and dropped her off. I told her to give me a call sometime again.
I picked up a coffe at Burger King for my brother on the way back. I didn't fill up his gas tank though. I ate a little pesto pasta around nine thirty, and took another 5-htp. Hopefully I will sleep better tonight.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Furnace and Wine
I went to bed later than expected last night, because I talked to Amanda for the first time in a long while. It seems she's made it a bit further in the search for life's futility than I, if there's anything fruitful in that search. I woke up late as a result, around eleven. I ate the last of the chili, mixed with some rice. I took a 5-htp, and ate a banana. I hung out with Mike until around three o'clock, then went home where my mum had made a fire. I made some noodle soup for lunch. Father Daniel wasn't coming over, instead we were going to meet him at the church. At church I took down a curtain, and picked up some trash outside. We ended up eating a late falafel lunch there, and left around six. Time sink.
Once home I went and hung out with Mike for a bit more, until I got a call from my brother asking me to go to the Hills with him. We bought some croissants, a loaf of French bread, and some donuts. At home we had some pastas for dinner with the bread, and all sat at the table together. My dad called and he said hello to us all. I drank some plum wine after dinner, and took another 5-htp. Our furnace isn't working, and so a furnace guy came over late and took a look. He thinks it might be broken, because he could smell CO when it tried to light. I'm sipping a glass of red wine, and am happy I can do so. It will be a cold night, and Monster will spend it outside since she won't come in. Tomorrow will be sunny and warm, I wonder what I should do.
Last year, today, was a very bad day. The culmination of a week of doubts, of lost hope, of stale work. It felt like the joke of the day was on me. The next day met my eyes with jubilation. I doubt such luck will befall me again. It's been a year of hoping; it's been a year of insanity.
Once home I went and hung out with Mike for a bit more, until I got a call from my brother asking me to go to the Hills with him. We bought some croissants, a loaf of French bread, and some donuts. At home we had some pastas for dinner with the bread, and all sat at the table together. My dad called and he said hello to us all. I drank some plum wine after dinner, and took another 5-htp. Our furnace isn't working, and so a furnace guy came over late and took a look. He thinks it might be broken, because he could smell CO when it tried to light. I'm sipping a glass of red wine, and am happy I can do so. It will be a cold night, and Monster will spend it outside since she won't come in. Tomorrow will be sunny and warm, I wonder what I should do.
Last year, today, was a very bad day. The culmination of a week of doubts, of lost hope, of stale work. It felt like the joke of the day was on me. The next day met my eyes with jubilation. I doubt such luck will befall me again. It's been a year of hoping; it's been a year of insanity.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
If Necessary, Portraits
Rolled off the couch around nine today, I suppose I require nearly eleven hours of sleep. Doesn't make much sense. I ate an egg between rosemary bread, and cleaned a little. I took my last half Paxil, and am now out of daily medications. I'm also conveniently lapsing out of my mum's insurance, because my school still has not confirmed my withdrawal for the semester, thus even if I wished, I wouldn't be able to fill the prescriptions - cheaply. Hm. Around eleven thirty I ate a bowl of nuts with some chili, and took a 5-htp. I doodled around on the computer, and then went and hung out with Mike.
My brother came over, and we eventually left to help him out with a portrait project he had. I pulled periwinkle out of the front yard, and then we played with mirrors as he took portraits. He was trying to reflect the sunlight onto faces to light them better; we took a short trip to the dollar store to buy some reflective material, one of those shiny things you use to keep the sunlight out of your car. We took these up into the woods, where my brother said the light was better. I still don't really believe it. He said he wanted a background other than houses. I believe this. Once we got down I went with Mike to his house and played some video games. Eventually his sister came over with his nephews, and I left shortly after. My uncle was over, and I let him use my computer. He looked at some expensive shoes, MBTs. I took a bath, and then came down and had dinner. We had chili over rice, with nachos on the side. I also ate salad left over from last night. I took another 5-htp, ate a little carrot cake, and then a banana. I watched some NOVA with my mum, something about the extinction of most large North American mammals towards the end of the last ice age. I came down and talked to my dad a bit, then played some guitar. I tried taking some photos of the night sky, the moon has been smiling blindly at us - but there was a haze moving over the city. I go to bed without any Seroquel tonight, and will only be taking 5-htp from now on. I still have a handful of Ativans if necessary.
there come times when there's nothing
to write
like tanning in the moonlight
the page stays white
you're eyes cast no words, not one
bright
idea
in the midst of what they say is a life
altering event, you don't see
what they see
only
what they don't, not one
bright
ideal
i am content in illness
expecting, hoping but not admitting
forgetting
they call this crazy
only
what they don't see
i see
My brother came over, and we eventually left to help him out with a portrait project he had. I pulled periwinkle out of the front yard, and then we played with mirrors as he took portraits. He was trying to reflect the sunlight onto faces to light them better; we took a short trip to the dollar store to buy some reflective material, one of those shiny things you use to keep the sunlight out of your car. We took these up into the woods, where my brother said the light was better. I still don't really believe it. He said he wanted a background other than houses. I believe this. Once we got down I went with Mike to his house and played some video games. Eventually his sister came over with his nephews, and I left shortly after. My uncle was over, and I let him use my computer. He looked at some expensive shoes, MBTs. I took a bath, and then came down and had dinner. We had chili over rice, with nachos on the side. I also ate salad left over from last night. I took another 5-htp, ate a little carrot cake, and then a banana. I watched some NOVA with my mum, something about the extinction of most large North American mammals towards the end of the last ice age. I came down and talked to my dad a bit, then played some guitar. I tried taking some photos of the night sky, the moon has been smiling blindly at us - but there was a haze moving over the city. I go to bed without any Seroquel tonight, and will only be taking 5-htp from now on. I still have a handful of Ativans if necessary.
there come times when there's nothing
to write
like tanning in the moonlight
the page stays white
you're eyes cast no words, not one
bright
idea
in the midst of what they say is a life
altering event, you don't see
what they see
only
what they don't, not one
bright
ideal
i am content in illness
expecting, hoping but not admitting
forgetting
they call this crazy
only
what they don't see
i see
Monday, March 30, 2009
Easy Ways, Ohio
My counseling appointment was at ten thirty today, but I struggled to roll off the couch. drank some orange juice, took half a Paxil, and ate a banana. I ran out the door, racing to make it on time. I didn't really have anything to talk to Dr. S about, so I told him that I really don't care about anything. He told me you can't really have a conversation with a person who doesn't care about anything - I told him he was right. In the end he said I seem to be telling myself I don't care, or something like that. I think he's right, I have mostly told myself I don't care about many things - when I really did. Too late for that, I couldn't care less about it. At least it's easist to feel that way, easist to live that way. It's the easy way.
I got home, and ate some chili. I took my 5-htp early, before noon. I went over and played some video games with Mike, and looked at funny things on the internet. Subconscious Eminem, ahahahaha. I came home and buttered around the house. I made a salad to eat with chili for dinner, and took another 5-htp. I moved all my pastels from the windows of the sun room, and tacked them up to the wall. It doesn't look so great, but what do you expect from half-hearted, half-hour pastels. Nothing great. I thought about doing dishes, and considered it back and forth for fifteen minutes before finally calling it a night. I took half a Seroquel, and called my dad back. He didn't think I should go off the medication, but I told him that's what I was planning on doing. My mum came down later and said she thought I should refill the Paxil prescription. I don't know what medicine I will continue to take, there's no doctor that can listen and reason. I talked to India tonight - she left school mid-semester, now we've both left Ohio and are living back in the town we started in. Wonder what it could mean.
I got home, and ate some chili. I took my 5-htp early, before noon. I went over and played some video games with Mike, and looked at funny things on the internet. Subconscious Eminem, ahahahaha. I came home and buttered around the house. I made a salad to eat with chili for dinner, and took another 5-htp. I moved all my pastels from the windows of the sun room, and tacked them up to the wall. It doesn't look so great, but what do you expect from half-hearted, half-hour pastels. Nothing great. I thought about doing dishes, and considered it back and forth for fifteen minutes before finally calling it a night. I took half a Seroquel, and called my dad back. He didn't think I should go off the medication, but I told him that's what I was planning on doing. My mum came down later and said she thought I should refill the Paxil prescription. I don't know what medicine I will continue to take, there's no doctor that can listen and reason. I talked to India tonight - she left school mid-semester, now we've both left Ohio and are living back in the town we started in. Wonder what it could mean.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
They've Got Forgotten Memories
Beautiful folk have a special way they walk, a special way they talk. That's why the world mostly isn't so special for the folk in it. From the outside it seems so especially beautiful. I don't remember any dreams from last night. I woke up around quarter to ten, and ate some baguette with mozzarella cheese, also a banana. I took half a Paxil as I got ready to go to church. I went to church and was asked to serve on the parish council. I was appointed sub-executive advisor to the committee. They've got me.
I ate a little at church, and when I got home I had a bagel with some cheese, hummus, lettuce, and peppers. I took my 5-htp. For more than a week I have been taking this, and I feel like a spacey version of myself. Unconcerned about the past, the present, and the future. Unconcerned about myself, and unconcerned about others. I cripple under attention, and under pressure. I feel like I am my middle-school self. Seventh grade, a little bit of ninth grade. It's a sarcastic, wretched immaturity. Full of nothing, full of himself.
I visited Mike and played some video games, then went home and went into the woods to collect the last of the maple sap. The timing of the rain always seems perfect, it always pours as soon as I reach the back of the house. Even this time, even when I paused for a minute at the reservoir, squatted and noticed the odd light of the afternoon. High blades of tan grass eclipsing the pine foliage behind. I found a tick climbing up my belly, and took and scalding bath to scald the bugs off. It's paranoia, insatiable obssessions.
I feel like an imaginary whisp moving through the fog. And as I folded laundry, Garrett came over. I could smell smoke on his breath. We went and visited Mike, and I played video games with Garrett for the night. For dinner I had some chili, the first meat I have eaten in a very long time. I am no longer a vegetarian, rather I am about to become the pickiest omnivore I've ever known. I took half a Seroquel, played some guitar - felt uninspired and then went to bed. Today was Gerardo's birthday, I wish I had known on my own. That's a good memory, the few people I knew in Cleveland - they were good memories. But I've got a feeling, I'm a simple forgotten memory, to most all people.
I ate a little at church, and when I got home I had a bagel with some cheese, hummus, lettuce, and peppers. I took my 5-htp. For more than a week I have been taking this, and I feel like a spacey version of myself. Unconcerned about the past, the present, and the future. Unconcerned about myself, and unconcerned about others. I cripple under attention, and under pressure. I feel like I am my middle-school self. Seventh grade, a little bit of ninth grade. It's a sarcastic, wretched immaturity. Full of nothing, full of himself.
I visited Mike and played some video games, then went home and went into the woods to collect the last of the maple sap. The timing of the rain always seems perfect, it always pours as soon as I reach the back of the house. Even this time, even when I paused for a minute at the reservoir, squatted and noticed the odd light of the afternoon. High blades of tan grass eclipsing the pine foliage behind. I found a tick climbing up my belly, and took and scalding bath to scald the bugs off. It's paranoia, insatiable obssessions.
I feel like an imaginary whisp moving through the fog. And as I folded laundry, Garrett came over. I could smell smoke on his breath. We went and visited Mike, and I played video games with Garrett for the night. For dinner I had some chili, the first meat I have eaten in a very long time. I am no longer a vegetarian, rather I am about to become the pickiest omnivore I've ever known. I took half a Seroquel, played some guitar - felt uninspired and then went to bed. Today was Gerardo's birthday, I wish I had known on my own. That's a good memory, the few people I knew in Cleveland - they were good memories. But I've got a feeling, I'm a simple forgotten memory, to most all people.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Ultimate Tick
I rolled off the couch around ten thirty today, took my half a Paxil and ate a banana. I put some groceries from the farmer's market away, then played some video games with Mike. Father Daniel called me a few times while I was there, and my dad as well. Choir practice was canceled, and the sound card wasn't installed. I ate a boca burger for lunch, and took my 5-htp. I went for a hike in the woods with Mike, and a loose dog came up and mauled us, with curiosity. I looked through the stream for salamanders, but found none. I went back over to Mike's and drank some cranberry, grapefruit, ice water. I played some more video games, and after finding two ticks crawling up my right arm, went home and took a bath.
Garrett asked me to go play frisbey with him. I said maybe. I went and played some more video games with Mike, and then Garrett came over and we went to meet Joe and his gang. We played until some kids left, and then everyone just talked for about half an hour. I made my first and the last score. I'm not sure it mattered. Garrett was funny about taking me home, I don't think he wanted to even though I said I needed to. It shouldn't matter why.
I didn't eat much today, very poorly in fact. I drank some orange juice, and took half a Seroquel. I hope there are no ticks tunneling into me tonight.
Garrett asked me to go play frisbey with him. I said maybe. I went and played some more video games with Mike, and then Garrett came over and we went to meet Joe and his gang. We played until some kids left, and then everyone just talked for about half an hour. I made my first and the last score. I'm not sure it mattered. Garrett was funny about taking me home, I don't think he wanted to even though I said I needed to. It shouldn't matter why.
I didn't eat much today, very poorly in fact. I drank some orange juice, and took half a Seroquel. I hope there are no ticks tunneling into me tonight.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Friday, Carrots
Ate left over stir fry, mixed with nuts, for breakfast today. Took half a Paxil, and tested the temperature outside. Not warm, but not cold like it should be so early in the morning. Sky, sprinkled with ash. I watched some television with Mike. Our marathon is over.
I came home around two, ate lunch, took my 5-htp, and then began making a pineapple, carrot cake. I grated a bountiful two cups of wet carrots. Carrots are so surprisingly saturated. About twenty minutes before it was done, I realized I didn't have any cream-cheese, so I went to Right Aid to look for cream-cheese. Right Aid doesn't sell cream-cheese, so I went to the Hills and reluctantly bought their cream-cheese. A very old looking man, named Lester, was a bag boy at the checkout.
I came home, and made cream-cheese frosting for the cooling pineapple, carrot cake. I went back over and played some video games with Mike, before getting a call from my mum to go to yoga. We went to yoga, yo. Left yoga. I was excited to get outside into the fresh air, and while my mum hung around to talk to her yoga cohorts, I looked at the creek. A squirrel was overhead, and I could hear his crumbs falling to the ground, nearly onto me. He was eating the buds of the trees. Are buds that sweet? No nuts this time of year?
I got home, and made myself a noodle soup for dinner. My mum and brother had gone to buy some food for themselves for dinner, so I ate alone. While they were still gone, I frosted the carrot cake and decorated it with sprinkles. Yellow, red, silver, three hearts. They got home and we nibbled on a slice of the cake. My mum ended up going out to dinner with a friend. I went and played some more video games with Mike. I came home at eleven thirty, walked around the kitchen with the cake, not sure where to put it. Put it back where I found it. Pissed, brushed my teeth, took half a Seroquel.
Now it's Saturday.
I came home around two, ate lunch, took my 5-htp, and then began making a pineapple, carrot cake. I grated a bountiful two cups of wet carrots. Carrots are so surprisingly saturated. About twenty minutes before it was done, I realized I didn't have any cream-cheese, so I went to Right Aid to look for cream-cheese. Right Aid doesn't sell cream-cheese, so I went to the Hills and reluctantly bought their cream-cheese. A very old looking man, named Lester, was a bag boy at the checkout.
I came home, and made cream-cheese frosting for the cooling pineapple, carrot cake. I went back over and played some video games with Mike, before getting a call from my mum to go to yoga. We went to yoga, yo. Left yoga. I was excited to get outside into the fresh air, and while my mum hung around to talk to her yoga cohorts, I looked at the creek. A squirrel was overhead, and I could hear his crumbs falling to the ground, nearly onto me. He was eating the buds of the trees. Are buds that sweet? No nuts this time of year?
I got home, and made myself a noodle soup for dinner. My mum and brother had gone to buy some food for themselves for dinner, so I ate alone. While they were still gone, I frosted the carrot cake and decorated it with sprinkles. Yellow, red, silver, three hearts. They got home and we nibbled on a slice of the cake. My mum ended up going out to dinner with a friend. I went and played some more video games with Mike. I came home at eleven thirty, walked around the kitchen with the cake, not sure where to put it. Put it back where I found it. Pissed, brushed my teeth, took half a Seroquel.
Now it's Saturday.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Birthday Slivers
Orange is the smell of a storm, the colour of earth in the sky, of the sun in the rain. In the night you can taste orange, hearing the sky, hearing the rain.
It is a birthday tomorrow, and today I didn't think much about it. Flowers were delivered to her, cards were sent to her. She took a bath, and I shrugged most people off today.
I ate left over stir fry for breakfast, along with a little yogurt mixed with applesauce. I took my half a Paxil. At lunch I had some left over stir fry, a banana, and took my 5-htp. For dinner I ate some pasta, some salad, some bread.
Emily tried talking to me tonight, I told her I didn't think I wanted to talk to her. She listened. I feel there's more than a sliver of sadism in me. I did some dishes before bed, brushed my teeth, popped a new tone from my ear. I take my half Seroquel before bed.
It is a birthday tomorrow, and today I didn't think much about it. Flowers were delivered to her, cards were sent to her. She took a bath, and I shrugged most people off today.
I ate left over stir fry for breakfast, along with a little yogurt mixed with applesauce. I took my half a Paxil. At lunch I had some left over stir fry, a banana, and took my 5-htp. For dinner I ate some pasta, some salad, some bread.
Emily tried talking to me tonight, I told her I didn't think I wanted to talk to her. She listened. I feel there's more than a sliver of sadism in me. I did some dishes before bed, brushed my teeth, popped a new tone from my ear. I take my half Seroquel before bed.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
As She Pleases
Falling asleep was difficult last night, rolling on my couch for more than an hour. Eventually I fell asleep, and the night was not eventful. I woke today around nine, made another breakfast burrito. I had eaten early, and I had time to butter before I took my half a Paxil. I drew a pastel of my uncle. Half an hour later I felt finished, and I took the crushed pill. Mike was up so I went over and watched some television. Before I left, however, my brother called - he thought I needed to go with him to his dentist appointment. Maybe I should have, but he was running late so he didn't have time to pick me up. Inside I really didn't want to go, but I called him back and told him to pick me up. He didn't have time. Secret relief.
Around one my mum called - she told me a nurse had called from the dentist telling her he had dry socket. I went home and took the car out to drop off his prescription for more medicine. He was working on a design project, and didn't have time. Later it turned out he didn't know he had dry socket - turned out he didn't know much of anything. I'm not sure why he has such trouble describing things; then again, maybe I have trouble myself. I went back over to Mike's and watched more television, brought some pizza, a banana, and took my 5-htp. Around five I went home and made a stir fry. Talked to my mum - she was tired. I ate dinner in the backyard, enjoying the fading warmth of the day, watching the fading blue and the streaking contrails. I let some music from inside seep through the window. Something about the living and the dead. Why not life and the deceased? I went back over to Mike's and watched Rambo. It was bloody, and the Korean died. I got home around ten. I couldn't find Monster, I had come home later than she likes. I took my half Seroquel, and then unloaded the dishwasher. I had left the back door open hoping Monster would come in as she pleases. On my last call I saw her glinting eyes, and she came down as she pleases. I miss my apartment, where I could hang out with her freely.
Around one my mum called - she told me a nurse had called from the dentist telling her he had dry socket. I went home and took the car out to drop off his prescription for more medicine. He was working on a design project, and didn't have time. Later it turned out he didn't know he had dry socket - turned out he didn't know much of anything. I'm not sure why he has such trouble describing things; then again, maybe I have trouble myself. I went back over to Mike's and watched more television, brought some pizza, a banana, and took my 5-htp. Around five I went home and made a stir fry. Talked to my mum - she was tired. I ate dinner in the backyard, enjoying the fading warmth of the day, watching the fading blue and the streaking contrails. I let some music from inside seep through the window. Something about the living and the dead. Why not life and the deceased? I went back over to Mike's and watched Rambo. It was bloody, and the Korean died. I got home around ten. I couldn't find Monster, I had come home later than she likes. I took my half Seroquel, and then unloaded the dishwasher. I had left the back door open hoping Monster would come in as she pleases. On my last call I saw her glinting eyes, and she came down as she pleases. I miss my apartment, where I could hang out with her freely.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Wet Feminine Distinctions
Woke up feeling wet - though I'd pissed my pants in my sleep. Just a wet dream. This was my third night of rather vivid, yet slightly restless sleep. Ladders and warehouses, going up, coming down. It is eerie how real dreams can feel - but I suppose since they're constructed of very real things, how can your subconscious directly discern the difference anyhow.
I slept in until around ten today. This is slightly late, and I didn't feel like doing much for breakfast. I wanted to take a bubble bath, so I ate a handful of nuts, a banana, and drank some milk - then took my half a Paxil. I took my bath, and then went and watched some television with Mike. Eventually we went to my house, and I made some lunch. My mum came home shortly thereafter, and I took my daily 5-htp. At one point my mum and Mike disappeared - she had walked outside with him to talk privately, very odd. She said she was telling him what a good friend he is. I suppose she's right. But not in the way that she may think. Not in the way she views friends - there's something shallow to her expectations I think. Later on I went back over to Mike's and played some video games.
Around six I came home. My mum and I called my dad, and we all talked about what's up with me. Talked about the recent shift in my mood, and whether it was caused by cutting my Paxil/Seroquel dosages in half or by the introduction of 5-htp. Secretly I fear it's because I'm bipolar, but only time will tell. I told them I didn't want to refill either of my prescriptions, but if I'm really bipolar, it's probably not a good idea. I guess I'll find out.
I cleaned the kitchen up a bit, and then made a half pesto and tomato/salsa sauce pizza. My brother has been struggling with getting his school work done, as is the case with most students. Only it's a bit tougher for him. It must be in our genes. I gave my mum a 5-htp, which made her sleepy. That was funny. I'm not sure if she was right, of if it only enhanced her fatigue from an early, long day. I guess I did sleep in afterall. My uncle J came over, and he used my computer for a bit. I took several photos of him, and tomorrow I'll try to draw a pastel based off them. He had a new hat, one similar to a hat Mike had seen on and old man and wanted for himself. Uncle J had some pizza, and said he liked it. He also had a bowl of nuts, but said no to my mum's birthday cheesecake. As it should be - cheesecake isn't all it's frosted up to be. I buttered around the kitchen as he ate his nuts, and occassionally sat down. We didn't talk much, and I occassionally talked out loud to myself. It seems odd that we didn't really talk, but it wasn't uncomfortable. More comfortable actually. Silence isn't wrong, shouldn't be odd. It's maybe expected in public, but not domestically. Then again, I'm not sure how most families behave.
I called Chelsea and talked to her for a while. She had a good time on her trip to North Carolina, I think she really enjoyed hanging around peers - having time for them too. I wonder if she developed any crushes - I think that'd be good for her too. She got a little pissed at my remarks towards femenine distinctions, they're generally sarcastic, and there's usually some truth in sarcasm. I'm not sure if that makes any sense.
I played guitar a bit, brushed my teeth, took my half seroquel - time for more dreams about sleep.
I slept in until around ten today. This is slightly late, and I didn't feel like doing much for breakfast. I wanted to take a bubble bath, so I ate a handful of nuts, a banana, and drank some milk - then took my half a Paxil. I took my bath, and then went and watched some television with Mike. Eventually we went to my house, and I made some lunch. My mum came home shortly thereafter, and I took my daily 5-htp. At one point my mum and Mike disappeared - she had walked outside with him to talk privately, very odd. She said she was telling him what a good friend he is. I suppose she's right. But not in the way that she may think. Not in the way she views friends - there's something shallow to her expectations I think. Later on I went back over to Mike's and played some video games.
Around six I came home. My mum and I called my dad, and we all talked about what's up with me. Talked about the recent shift in my mood, and whether it was caused by cutting my Paxil/Seroquel dosages in half or by the introduction of 5-htp. Secretly I fear it's because I'm bipolar, but only time will tell. I told them I didn't want to refill either of my prescriptions, but if I'm really bipolar, it's probably not a good idea. I guess I'll find out.
I cleaned the kitchen up a bit, and then made a half pesto and tomato/salsa sauce pizza. My brother has been struggling with getting his school work done, as is the case with most students. Only it's a bit tougher for him. It must be in our genes. I gave my mum a 5-htp, which made her sleepy. That was funny. I'm not sure if she was right, of if it only enhanced her fatigue from an early, long day. I guess I did sleep in afterall. My uncle J came over, and he used my computer for a bit. I took several photos of him, and tomorrow I'll try to draw a pastel based off them. He had a new hat, one similar to a hat Mike had seen on and old man and wanted for himself. Uncle J had some pizza, and said he liked it. He also had a bowl of nuts, but said no to my mum's birthday cheesecake. As it should be - cheesecake isn't all it's frosted up to be. I buttered around the kitchen as he ate his nuts, and occassionally sat down. We didn't talk much, and I occassionally talked out loud to myself. It seems odd that we didn't really talk, but it wasn't uncomfortable. More comfortable actually. Silence isn't wrong, shouldn't be odd. It's maybe expected in public, but not domestically. Then again, I'm not sure how most families behave.
I called Chelsea and talked to her for a while. She had a good time on her trip to North Carolina, I think she really enjoyed hanging around peers - having time for them too. I wonder if she developed any crushes - I think that'd be good for her too. She got a little pissed at my remarks towards femenine distinctions, they're generally sarcastic, and there's usually some truth in sarcasm. I'm not sure if that makes any sense.
I played guitar a bit, brushed my teeth, took my half seroquel - time for more dreams about sleep.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Root Dumps
Memories pile together in my head like an ever thickening brush pile. Stories and thoughts spiral out from the thick center, sticks and twigs strung with only a few frail leaves. They go up and out in no order, but are all stuck to the center in some fashion. Plastic and glass litter the pile, wrappers of memories, nothing sweet or bitter within - just empty junk. Natural mixed with synthetic, ready to be brought to the dump.
For two nights now, my sleep has been an open window of consciousness. The haze of my unconscious weeps through the sill, splattering into my open eyes. Could tears both fall and fizzle from sleep and from dreams? I remember Monster climbing all over me, purring in my ear and licking my open face as my immobile self tried to sleep. Monster was locked in her room all night though, it wasn't real. They're not dreams - they're hallucinations in my struggle to sleep.
I woke today to bright blue skies, but cold crisp soil. I made a breakfast burrito and took my half a Paxil. I played guitar a little bit, and waited for time to whittle down til I left for my counseling appointment. I visited Mike for a bit before and watched some television. My mum called me and told me I needed to take my brother to a dentist's appointment after my counseling appointment. This frustrated me a bit, and so I took an Ativan. I went to my appointment.
I talked to Dr. S about nothing. It is amazing the many different ways you can talk about nothing. I jumped from memory and thought incongruently, describing the days leading up to my suicide plan and the days following my stay in the psychiatric ward like my brush pile. I tried sticking a hand into it, grasping for anything I could find, and I gave it to him. I told him that my feelings are only attempts to satisfy outside perceptions. That without a sense of self, the only way to define yourself is through the eyes of those that see you. If nobody sees you, you don't feel anything. Only if there were nobody else, could you feel. Time was up.
At home I made a lunch wrap, and I took my 5-htp. I drove with my brother to his dentist's appointment and read a Time magazine while he sat with the dentist. When he came out he couldn't talk, they had put something in his sockets to dull the pain. We drove home. I went back over to Mike's and Garrett was there. They played some video games, and then Mike showed up as well. I left after a while, and buttered around the house. I ate a boca burger for dinner, and some nuts my mum bought. I took another Ativan, and wittled time down. I ate a little piece of cheesecake, the sweetest thing I have had in a month. I brushed my teeth. Garrett knocked on my window, and I went outside and bummed a cigarette off of him. This is my third cigarette since before the Psych ward. He came inside and while he played guitar I did a pastel drawing of his face. I don't think it came out very well - most don't. People move, photos don't. Memories pile and shift in the wind, my mind shifts with it. We talked a little, he didn't get into this safety school for the fall, so he's worried he won't get into his choice university. Don't worry I say, universities only decide on the flip of a coin, anyhow.
I took half a seroquel and lay on my couch. I wonder how far my dreams will creep out of their hole tonight. Crawling memories.
For two nights now, my sleep has been an open window of consciousness. The haze of my unconscious weeps through the sill, splattering into my open eyes. Could tears both fall and fizzle from sleep and from dreams? I remember Monster climbing all over me, purring in my ear and licking my open face as my immobile self tried to sleep. Monster was locked in her room all night though, it wasn't real. They're not dreams - they're hallucinations in my struggle to sleep.
I woke today to bright blue skies, but cold crisp soil. I made a breakfast burrito and took my half a Paxil. I played guitar a little bit, and waited for time to whittle down til I left for my counseling appointment. I visited Mike for a bit before and watched some television. My mum called me and told me I needed to take my brother to a dentist's appointment after my counseling appointment. This frustrated me a bit, and so I took an Ativan. I went to my appointment.
I talked to Dr. S about nothing. It is amazing the many different ways you can talk about nothing. I jumped from memory and thought incongruently, describing the days leading up to my suicide plan and the days following my stay in the psychiatric ward like my brush pile. I tried sticking a hand into it, grasping for anything I could find, and I gave it to him. I told him that my feelings are only attempts to satisfy outside perceptions. That without a sense of self, the only way to define yourself is through the eyes of those that see you. If nobody sees you, you don't feel anything. Only if there were nobody else, could you feel. Time was up.
At home I made a lunch wrap, and I took my 5-htp. I drove with my brother to his dentist's appointment and read a Time magazine while he sat with the dentist. When he came out he couldn't talk, they had put something in his sockets to dull the pain. We drove home. I went back over to Mike's and Garrett was there. They played some video games, and then Mike showed up as well. I left after a while, and buttered around the house. I ate a boca burger for dinner, and some nuts my mum bought. I took another Ativan, and wittled time down. I ate a little piece of cheesecake, the sweetest thing I have had in a month. I brushed my teeth. Garrett knocked on my window, and I went outside and bummed a cigarette off of him. This is my third cigarette since before the Psych ward. He came inside and while he played guitar I did a pastel drawing of his face. I don't think it came out very well - most don't. People move, photos don't. Memories pile and shift in the wind, my mind shifts with it. We talked a little, he didn't get into this safety school for the fall, so he's worried he won't get into his choice university. Don't worry I say, universities only decide on the flip of a coin, anyhow.
I took half a seroquel and lay on my couch. I wonder how far my dreams will creep out of their hole tonight. Crawling memories.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Ladybug Zenith
I woke up early today. Not sure why. It certainly isn't habit - not one I'm too aware of at least. It was grey in the sky, and flurrying to add to its elegance. Grey elegance. Eh. I woke my mum up and told her we should eat. Eat more than we eat in the evening at least. Eventually we made a breakfast burrito, and then I took half a Paxil. She left, and I did something. Buttered around the house I suppose. Took a bath I believe. I added some oils to it, which made it feel a bit smoother. Erica called sometime after that, saying she still wanted to go to yoga. That was surprising. My mum came home, and we went to yoga. Erica had showed up early, surprise. We laid our mats in a different spot, one my mum thought was better. There was a younger girl there, who Erica apparently knew. As we left we exchanged two simple hellos.
Erica came home with us, because my mum wanted her to help us calm my brother down. We had stopped at the dollar store and bought a water and some batteries. My mum believed it was some sort of peace offering. We saw John briefly as we pulled into the parking lot. At home I made a wrap with hummus and left over salad, some feta cheese as well. I took a 5-htp after eating that. Erica hung around a bit and we sat in the kitchen and talked with my mum. They ate some of the cheesecake Jack had bought my mum for her birthday. I guess I really bruised Erica's leg with a log the other day when we went for a hike. It wasn't all my fault, but definitely my doing. The sun began to come out, which was surprising. Eventually I brought her home, but first we stopped at the cemetery to pick up some rocks. It was sunny and the birds in the thickets at the edge of the woods distracted me. I was supposed to be finding some big rocks to put into the car, and Erica was talking a little - but I couldn't help but be drawn away by the sound of the birds and the dark blue sky that hangs over the horizon. Finally I dropped her off.
When I got home I went over to visit Mike. Mike was visiting Mike, and eventually he left. I watched some television with Mike, and towards the end Garrett came over. I left a bit after that. I went into the woods to get the maple sap, but one of the bottles had been pierced and so it was empty. Twilight's dark blue crept over the vally, and it was pleasant to see. Mike eventually came over, and my mum and I ate pancakes for dinner. They had feta cheese in them, and we used our own maple syrup.
My mum's friend, David, had left his late-dad's gloves at the top of the cemetary, so my mum asked me and Mike to drive up and look for them in the dark. When we got to the top of the cemetery you could see the zenith of the sky crisply. The stars were very clear. We found the gloves and drove home.
Nate and Garrett were hanging around on the side of the road in Nate's car. I talked to them for a bit, before my mum called. She asked me to go buy some food for my brother so that he could take his medicine. It's been nearly a week since he had his wisdom teeth, and it seems his pain has only increased with time. I went to the hills and bought him some soft foods. After I got home, my dad called and I talked to him for a while. He talked to my about my nutrition. Afterward I attempted to do a pastel of the jarred dead lady bugs. I didn't like it very much. I am going to bed later than usual tonight.
Erica came home with us, because my mum wanted her to help us calm my brother down. We had stopped at the dollar store and bought a water and some batteries. My mum believed it was some sort of peace offering. We saw John briefly as we pulled into the parking lot. At home I made a wrap with hummus and left over salad, some feta cheese as well. I took a 5-htp after eating that. Erica hung around a bit and we sat in the kitchen and talked with my mum. They ate some of the cheesecake Jack had bought my mum for her birthday. I guess I really bruised Erica's leg with a log the other day when we went for a hike. It wasn't all my fault, but definitely my doing. The sun began to come out, which was surprising. Eventually I brought her home, but first we stopped at the cemetery to pick up some rocks. It was sunny and the birds in the thickets at the edge of the woods distracted me. I was supposed to be finding some big rocks to put into the car, and Erica was talking a little - but I couldn't help but be drawn away by the sound of the birds and the dark blue sky that hangs over the horizon. Finally I dropped her off.
When I got home I went over to visit Mike. Mike was visiting Mike, and eventually he left. I watched some television with Mike, and towards the end Garrett came over. I left a bit after that. I went into the woods to get the maple sap, but one of the bottles had been pierced and so it was empty. Twilight's dark blue crept over the vally, and it was pleasant to see. Mike eventually came over, and my mum and I ate pancakes for dinner. They had feta cheese in them, and we used our own maple syrup.
My mum's friend, David, had left his late-dad's gloves at the top of the cemetary, so my mum asked me and Mike to drive up and look for them in the dark. When we got to the top of the cemetery you could see the zenith of the sky crisply. The stars were very clear. We found the gloves and drove home.
Nate and Garrett were hanging around on the side of the road in Nate's car. I talked to them for a bit, before my mum called. She asked me to go buy some food for my brother so that he could take his medicine. It's been nearly a week since he had his wisdom teeth, and it seems his pain has only increased with time. I went to the hills and bought him some soft foods. After I got home, my dad called and I talked to him for a while. He talked to my about my nutrition. Afterward I attempted to do a pastel of the jarred dead lady bugs. I didn't like it very much. I am going to bed later than usual tonight.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Blessed Throats
A woman's voice woke me this morning, it was Jean - who stayed with us, eons ago - and like my memory of that time, her voice faded out the door as my mum ushered her away. My mum was going on a date with Jack, and so she was up early. I ate some leftovers for breakfast, and then got dressed and helped my mum a little before she left for her early morning date. I bumped into Jack when he came in, and we shook hands. Jack's a great guy, and he asked me for help to get a laptop. I started pulling more periwinkle, and raked the garden out more.
I took half a Paxil, and then something. I took an Ativan, and then maybe I watched some television with Mike. I went home, and something. Maybe I talked to my dad. He told me that perhaps my antidepressant doesn't work because I am a vegetarian, and a bad one who does not supplement his diet properly. He showed me some links, and suggested looking into 5-htp, a precursor to seratonin synthesis. Somebody hope this might be it. Someone else remember there's likely nothing wrong with me.
I went out with my brother and Mike to get some rocks for the garden, and so that I could buy some 5-htp at the drugstore. We tried redeeming cans at the Hills, however the valley drunks suck too much. We went to the cemetary to collect rocks. Well I collected rocks. My brother and Mike smashed rocks to see what was inside. Some rocks were wet inside, others chalk white, and some sparkled. Some had rocks on the inside. When I got home I ate a veggie burrito, and took 50mg of 5-htp.
I think I took another Ativan. My mum told us our priest was coming over, so we cleaned. I finally was given a closet to put all my clothes into. The priest arrived around five, and we talked. He is a great guy, I really adore him so. Not many people quite as loving, fewer quite as accepting. He blessed the house, and then we sat down and munched a little. He was fasting, which my mum had forgotten, so he talked a lot and told us stories of the fights the priests got into in Bethlehem. He looked at my mums art work, and seemed to really like everything in our house. Not many people are like that. Eventually he left, and I called Erica. Something about she should have called, and tonight she is going to bed early. Maybe she'll try to call in the morning. I told her I'd probably go to bed early as well, maybe play some guitar and draw. I drew two pastels before bed. I took my seroquel. I try to write a poem:
i colour most throats blue
since most throats are not true
i stripe them green for the threads
that choke all glee, all fair words which flee
these blue throats striped green
only a throat green with life
striped blue for its few truths
its honest brutal flaws, which i
let fall, for it's green breath
brings life awake around it
and all true eyes, true lives
just want to be open
to be awake
to fly from your throat
I took half a Paxil, and then something. I took an Ativan, and then maybe I watched some television with Mike. I went home, and something. Maybe I talked to my dad. He told me that perhaps my antidepressant doesn't work because I am a vegetarian, and a bad one who does not supplement his diet properly. He showed me some links, and suggested looking into 5-htp, a precursor to seratonin synthesis. Somebody hope this might be it. Someone else remember there's likely nothing wrong with me.
I went out with my brother and Mike to get some rocks for the garden, and so that I could buy some 5-htp at the drugstore. We tried redeeming cans at the Hills, however the valley drunks suck too much. We went to the cemetary to collect rocks. Well I collected rocks. My brother and Mike smashed rocks to see what was inside. Some rocks were wet inside, others chalk white, and some sparkled. Some had rocks on the inside. When I got home I ate a veggie burrito, and took 50mg of 5-htp.
I think I took another Ativan. My mum told us our priest was coming over, so we cleaned. I finally was given a closet to put all my clothes into. The priest arrived around five, and we talked. He is a great guy, I really adore him so. Not many people quite as loving, fewer quite as accepting. He blessed the house, and then we sat down and munched a little. He was fasting, which my mum had forgotten, so he talked a lot and told us stories of the fights the priests got into in Bethlehem. He looked at my mums art work, and seemed to really like everything in our house. Not many people are like that. Eventually he left, and I called Erica. Something about she should have called, and tonight she is going to bed early. Maybe she'll try to call in the morning. I told her I'd probably go to bed early as well, maybe play some guitar and draw. I drew two pastels before bed. I took my seroquel. I try to write a poem:
i colour most throats blue
since most throats are not true
i stripe them green for the threads
that choke all glee, all fair words which flee
these blue throats striped green
only a throat green with life
striped blue for its few truths
its honest brutal flaws, which i
let fall, for it's green breath
brings life awake around it
and all true eyes, true lives
just want to be open
to be awake
to fly from your throat
Friday, March 20, 2009
Second Halves, Keys, Portraits
Doesn't a life, a good life, require a desire? Some hope, some facet of future consequence? It must be pretentious to seek a state of no desire, or else you're seeking no good life. By good, I mean something fruitful, something fulfilling, which a state of no desire does not fulfill. It's too much of an ideal, almost a statement. But a statement to whom? To myself? I hope not to you.
Today a ripped more periwinkle, I doubled the pile of pulled periwinkle. After the pulling, I took half a Paxil. I got a call from a nurse telling me I had an appointment in an hour and a half to see a psychiatrist - I had to call the psychiatrist myself, however, to confirm. I called and told them today was no good. Maybe early next week. I don't want to see my psychiatrist, because she doesn't listen to me, and she does not make any sense. I don't believe she can comprehend some of what I try to tell her, and this makes her diagnoses seem spot random, since I myself have more than a hell of a time trying to make sense of what I think, if I think, and what I feel, if I feel.
I looked at some porn, felt sick, and took a bath. I took an ativan afterwards, and played my pitiful guitar for an hour in high noon sunlight. I watched some television with Mike. I came home and something. My mum, and something. She went to yoga, and I cleaned the kitchen and made dinner. She came home, and we ate dinner. I cleaned up a little bit. My hands felt very dry. The windows were foggy from the sap still boiling - today I made a trip up into the woods, apparantly the sap is still flowing.
I waited for half an hour after dinner, and then I took an Ativan. I began to get ready to do a pastel, but just as I had gotten the blue down on the white paper, my mum called. She had locked her key in the car at a gas station down in the ghetto. I left and brought her a second key. I finished my pastel portrait. This was my second try. I took half a Seroquel tonight. I hope I fall asleep soon.
A poem:
for dinner tonight, i present
whole wheat hair, double scalped
from organic twins, minced skin
flakes grated from thirty year old
lard, he thought he was healthy up
til, well til last week
a' spicey eye ball, in a chunky
ragu goo, sauteed curly haired
scalps, fresh from brazil
a salad, tossed with waxy ears
which were being tossed away
on the curbs near the school
where my mum works
and finally, some bread,
second hand, i mean, above the hand
two french forearms, crust shaved
finelym, and toasted in
my uncle's built in
tanning bed
for desert, sweet ho hatos
skinned and carmeled
in the neon gas station grates
Today a ripped more periwinkle, I doubled the pile of pulled periwinkle. After the pulling, I took half a Paxil. I got a call from a nurse telling me I had an appointment in an hour and a half to see a psychiatrist - I had to call the psychiatrist myself, however, to confirm. I called and told them today was no good. Maybe early next week. I don't want to see my psychiatrist, because she doesn't listen to me, and she does not make any sense. I don't believe she can comprehend some of what I try to tell her, and this makes her diagnoses seem spot random, since I myself have more than a hell of a time trying to make sense of what I think, if I think, and what I feel, if I feel.
I looked at some porn, felt sick, and took a bath. I took an ativan afterwards, and played my pitiful guitar for an hour in high noon sunlight. I watched some television with Mike. I came home and something. My mum, and something. She went to yoga, and I cleaned the kitchen and made dinner. She came home, and we ate dinner. I cleaned up a little bit. My hands felt very dry. The windows were foggy from the sap still boiling - today I made a trip up into the woods, apparantly the sap is still flowing.
I waited for half an hour after dinner, and then I took an Ativan. I began to get ready to do a pastel, but just as I had gotten the blue down on the white paper, my mum called. She had locked her key in the car at a gas station down in the ghetto. I left and brought her a second key. I finished my pastel portrait. This was my second try. I took half a Seroquel tonight. I hope I fall asleep soon.
A poem:
for dinner tonight, i present
whole wheat hair, double scalped
from organic twins, minced skin
flakes grated from thirty year old
lard, he thought he was healthy up
til, well til last week
a' spicey eye ball, in a chunky
ragu goo, sauteed curly haired
scalps, fresh from brazil
a salad, tossed with waxy ears
which were being tossed away
on the curbs near the school
where my mum works
and finally, some bread,
second hand, i mean, above the hand
two french forearms, crust shaved
finelym, and toasted in
my uncle's built in
tanning bed
for desert, sweet ho hatos
skinned and carmeled
in the neon gas station grates
Thursday, March 19, 2009
I Wake Up
I watched the golden ground and the flush blue sky, I took my Paxil, and I couldn't think of any way to enjoy the beauty of the day. I want to enjoy it, but cannot fathom how. It isn't enough to stand in it, to look at it - all I want is to be it. I would like to be golden in the sunlight and have my head, my thoughts, flushed pastel blue. Flush all my memories, all my experiences, and let me have a fresh ocean - let me have new water to churn myself in to.
I pulled periwinkle for brunch, and raked the ivy off the ground. My uncle came over and I paid all my attention to him. I sat and sifted through the movies he brought over. I let him use my computer to check his email. I went outside to pull more periwinkle, and he left. Afterward, I tweaked some photos.
I watched some television with Mike. I went home once to eat some late lunch, and then went into the woods briefly with Mike. We got the sap and then came back down. I think this was done the other way around. I watched some more television with Mike, and then came home. I drew a pastel of my hand. My mum began to make some dinner
I spun the spice rack too fast, I wiped a knife and other miscellaneous kitchen utensils off the counter. I pushed a lamp into the ground very hard. I scratched at the wall with the little bit of nail I still have in my right hand. I took two Ativan. I ate some broccoli and rice. My mum cut my Seroquel and Paxil pills in half. She and I vacuumed up the shards of light from the lamp. The shards of some memory.
I go to bed.
I pulled periwinkle for brunch, and raked the ivy off the ground. My uncle came over and I paid all my attention to him. I sat and sifted through the movies he brought over. I let him use my computer to check his email. I went outside to pull more periwinkle, and he left. Afterward, I tweaked some photos.
I watched some television with Mike. I went home once to eat some late lunch, and then went into the woods briefly with Mike. We got the sap and then came back down. I think this was done the other way around. I watched some more television with Mike, and then came home. I drew a pastel of my hand. My mum began to make some dinner
I spun the spice rack too fast, I wiped a knife and other miscellaneous kitchen utensils off the counter. I pushed a lamp into the ground very hard. I scratched at the wall with the little bit of nail I still have in my right hand. I took two Ativan. I ate some broccoli and rice. My mum cut my Seroquel and Paxil pills in half. She and I vacuumed up the shards of light from the lamp. The shards of some memory.
I go to bed.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Aluminum Ogle
I close my eyes to see more eyes, I close them tight to feel alive. I open my legs and I push my arms together, wrinkle my ankle and tip over like a nickel can on the curb. I try to feel light, feel like light aluminum. Maybe that's why I tip over.
I woke up today and raked more leaves. I put them into the wheelbarrow and piled them high next to the garage. It rained lightly throughout most of the day. I felt a little dazed in the late afternoon. A little loose in the heart, like an ogling eye. I took two Ativans today.
Alex, Erica, and I were supposed to go see Mr. Penny today, but she never called me back. That is her way. That's why my faith in her always frays. I'm like a tipped aluminum tray. A little loose in the ankles, like an ogling toe.
I woke up today and raked more leaves. I put them into the wheelbarrow and piled them high next to the garage. It rained lightly throughout most of the day. I felt a little dazed in the late afternoon. A little loose in the heart, like an ogling eye. I took two Ativans today.
Alex, Erica, and I were supposed to go see Mr. Penny today, but she never called me back. That is her way. That's why my faith in her always frays. I'm like a tipped aluminum tray. A little loose in the ankles, like an ogling toe.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
More, Stones
I woke up today and did a pastel in the morning light before I ate or took my medicine. It looked like an eye. I microwaved some tuna casserole, and ate that for breakfast along with some strawberry kefir. I popped my Paxil and an Ativan and then went up into the woods to check the tree sap - maybe this was done the other way around. I began raking more leaves, on the part of the yard next to the driveway. I raked a lot and moved on to other parts of the yard as well, raking the stairs and piling them down near the road, where the neighbors park their pickup trucks. Although I wore gloves, I still got blisters and popped those blisters between my thumb and index finger, where the rake slid up and down. I got the mail or something.
I watched some television with Mike, and then Erica walked over. We ditched the idea of visiting Mr. Penny at our old High School for the day, and instead I tried to show her how to throw a pot on the potter's wheel. Mike watched and it was fun for me, though I'm not sure how much either of them enjoyed it. I'm not sure I am a very good teacher, and in the end I think I mostly everything for her. She needs to learn that some things take practice before you can get what you want. This is advice that I do not practice. Quite obvious from this angle.
Erica said Alex might be waiting at her house. So we began to ride bikes over, but as we reached the bottom of the first hill Alex called her and told her that he had not left yet, but that he would be at my house in about an hour. Erica wanted to go for a bike ride though, so we rode and rode until we got to the cemetery. There we bumped into my mum, and we loaded some nice stones into her car. We found some stones which had fossiles crumbling out of them. There were also iron stones which rubbled like red chalk. We rode our bikes home, but Alex had still not arrived. I went up and got more sap, and when I returned my mum had dinner almost finished. There was asparagus-squash soup and some pitas. I watched the final blue hues of twilight fade to black, and talked to Erica a little bit. Our conversations are a little funny, never full, and never quite finished. We both admit to not really knowing a lot, which throws the quality of conversation into question.
Alex did finally arrive, and we began playing monopoly. Erica's grandmother came and picked her and Alex up, putting the game on pause. I talked to Chelsea tonight for a little while, and it was a conversation which seemed very different from what I'm used to having with her - as of late. Maybe it is because she is in North Carolina. She seemed concerned about me almost, and almost more aware of my circumstances than I usually am. I drew a pastel tree, and now I got to bed feeling less than what I was the night before. Hopefully nothing more.
I watched some television with Mike, and then Erica walked over. We ditched the idea of visiting Mr. Penny at our old High School for the day, and instead I tried to show her how to throw a pot on the potter's wheel. Mike watched and it was fun for me, though I'm not sure how much either of them enjoyed it. I'm not sure I am a very good teacher, and in the end I think I mostly everything for her. She needs to learn that some things take practice before you can get what you want. This is advice that I do not practice. Quite obvious from this angle.
Erica said Alex might be waiting at her house. So we began to ride bikes over, but as we reached the bottom of the first hill Alex called her and told her that he had not left yet, but that he would be at my house in about an hour. Erica wanted to go for a bike ride though, so we rode and rode until we got to the cemetery. There we bumped into my mum, and we loaded some nice stones into her car. We found some stones which had fossiles crumbling out of them. There were also iron stones which rubbled like red chalk. We rode our bikes home, but Alex had still not arrived. I went up and got more sap, and when I returned my mum had dinner almost finished. There was asparagus-squash soup and some pitas. I watched the final blue hues of twilight fade to black, and talked to Erica a little bit. Our conversations are a little funny, never full, and never quite finished. We both admit to not really knowing a lot, which throws the quality of conversation into question.
Alex did finally arrive, and we began playing monopoly. Erica's grandmother came and picked her and Alex up, putting the game on pause. I talked to Chelsea tonight for a little while, and it was a conversation which seemed very different from what I'm used to having with her - as of late. Maybe it is because she is in North Carolina. She seemed concerned about me almost, and almost more aware of my circumstances than I usually am. I drew a pastel tree, and now I got to bed feeling less than what I was the night before. Hopefully nothing more.
Monday, March 16, 2009
English on Grey: Shen Wei
Lately when I try to talk, I need help to start. I need help to get to the middle, and by the end I've given up. My words are thoughtless, and this thoughtlessness is burdensome. The world I see is thin as painted paper, pasted over the dead world. Thin thoughts struggling just to be thin words, which fall through the thin air, hitting a world painted thinly.
Today I did stuff. I met a new counselor, and I'm not sure he believes me. I'm not sure if I believe him. I do believe he believes he'll be able to make me believe him. And I'm naive enough to believe he'll get it right. I watched some television with Mike. As his dogs barked, I saw Erica and Brady going up my driveway, and like a gust I met their backs in moments. We went for a ride through the woods on bikes, though I believe mine and Erica's bikes were broken badly. Erica lost her cell phone and Alex's iPod, so we rode back through the woods until finally at the very entrance to the woods a neighbor called to us saying she found Erica's stuff. Afterwards we went and got the sap from our backyard, and my mum made us an English dinner. She believes this consists of toast, hardboiled eggs, and tree sap tea. That sounds about right. Erica, my mum, and I went to a modern dance performance at a stage downtown, however it was really just a modern dance preview. Something about someone, Shen Wei. The tickets were free, we're suckers for free. It was a time eater, that is all I know.
Before bed tonight I drew a pastel on grey. There is no inspiration to sap from thin thoughts, no advice to tap from these thin lips.
Today I did stuff. I met a new counselor, and I'm not sure he believes me. I'm not sure if I believe him. I do believe he believes he'll be able to make me believe him. And I'm naive enough to believe he'll get it right. I watched some television with Mike. As his dogs barked, I saw Erica and Brady going up my driveway, and like a gust I met their backs in moments. We went for a ride through the woods on bikes, though I believe mine and Erica's bikes were broken badly. Erica lost her cell phone and Alex's iPod, so we rode back through the woods until finally at the very entrance to the woods a neighbor called to us saying she found Erica's stuff. Afterwards we went and got the sap from our backyard, and my mum made us an English dinner. She believes this consists of toast, hardboiled eggs, and tree sap tea. That sounds about right. Erica, my mum, and I went to a modern dance performance at a stage downtown, however it was really just a modern dance preview. Something about someone, Shen Wei. The tickets were free, we're suckers for free. It was a time eater, that is all I know.
Before bed tonight I drew a pastel on grey. There is no inspiration to sap from thin thoughts, no advice to tap from these thin lips.
One Inch Less
Is it better to care less and feel less day in day out? It may be better to accept less with each sunset, and to learn to say goodbye at sunrise. My eyes are weak and dry, may tomorrow God take these dry eyes and this dry heart, and may I be less for it.
This morning I woke up, and felt good. Being alone for eight hours makes me feel good. Then I saw my mum, and after a few minutes I found a hint of a reviling tone which made me feel ready to pop. In, out. Took two pills in, in the morning. Out my mum and brother went, to church. I fetched sap from the trees in the woods, and spooked some deer and saw a man sitting in a green chair in the midst of the woods.
I then drew for a little bit. I finished. I raked the garden of winter's leaves, prying away the shade so that the green shoots could breath. My mum and brother returned from church. I was alone most of the morning, and I felt much better for it. All I want is to be alone, but maybe all I need is to learn to stand people. I don't get sick of good people, but good people - I know maybe five. But those five hardly know me - probably why I think that such good people may exist.
I saw an inch worm as I took a break from raking. It had floated down, and I had noticed it. For about an inch of time I pondered the inch worm, how it spins its silk and inches about. Metaphors about patience, babe.
Something, somewhere. I felt okay much of the day, but I played my music loud and was alone. Around eight I went to the movie theater with my brother, Mike, and Erica. Me and Erica walked into the theater the back way, because we are too poor to afford real movie tickets. I felt floaty, kind of useless afterward. Perhaps it is because I float, and am pretty useless. This is probably the reason. Or the answer. Tides will quell no reasons, no answers.
My brother has his wisdom teeth removed tomorrow, and I see a counselor for the first time in a month. I am not sure what to expect, for some reason new things are different every time you do them. That may be significant. I made gelled puddings for my brother tonight. They are in the fridge firming.
I took my Seroquel and an Ativan before bed tonight. As I wrote this entry, an inchworm squirmed on my chest. It took one step and I saw the worm. Was it the worm I had seen earlier today, or is this a new worm, taking the place of a boy with one less care, one less prayer?
This morning I woke up, and felt good. Being alone for eight hours makes me feel good. Then I saw my mum, and after a few minutes I found a hint of a reviling tone which made me feel ready to pop. In, out. Took two pills in, in the morning. Out my mum and brother went, to church. I fetched sap from the trees in the woods, and spooked some deer and saw a man sitting in a green chair in the midst of the woods.
I then drew for a little bit. I finished. I raked the garden of winter's leaves, prying away the shade so that the green shoots could breath. My mum and brother returned from church. I was alone most of the morning, and I felt much better for it. All I want is to be alone, but maybe all I need is to learn to stand people. I don't get sick of good people, but good people - I know maybe five. But those five hardly know me - probably why I think that such good people may exist.
I saw an inch worm as I took a break from raking. It had floated down, and I had noticed it. For about an inch of time I pondered the inch worm, how it spins its silk and inches about. Metaphors about patience, babe.
Something, somewhere. I felt okay much of the day, but I played my music loud and was alone. Around eight I went to the movie theater with my brother, Mike, and Erica. Me and Erica walked into the theater the back way, because we are too poor to afford real movie tickets. I felt floaty, kind of useless afterward. Perhaps it is because I float, and am pretty useless. This is probably the reason. Or the answer. Tides will quell no reasons, no answers.
My brother has his wisdom teeth removed tomorrow, and I see a counselor for the first time in a month. I am not sure what to expect, for some reason new things are different every time you do them. That may be significant. I made gelled puddings for my brother tonight. They are in the fridge firming.
I took my Seroquel and an Ativan before bed tonight. As I wrote this entry, an inchworm squirmed on my chest. It took one step and I saw the worm. Was it the worm I had seen earlier today, or is this a new worm, taking the place of a boy with one less care, one less prayer?
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Pine, Ephemeral
Monster let's out a few cries before bed. I think somewhere in the bible it said it was good to cry out before bed. Whether a cry of ecstasy or a cry of anguish - I believe that without a cry of something, you're missing something. A missing cry, may mean a missing mind. A missing soul, or maybe a missing heart. You missed something.
Beams cut my room sideways, which were enough to wake me up early, the first time in a while. But I had also gone to bed around nine the night before, I had gone to bed with an Ativan and a Seroquel. It had been a pretty bad night. I felt slightly well enough to go up into the woods to take some photos. I maybe took one. It was cold and everything was frosty orange in the light. I felt very anxious and irritable, so I took an Ativan and my daily Paxil. At the market with my brother and Erica, I bought some vegetables: green onions, a cucumber, a zucchini, some sweet onions, an eggplant, some cheeses, and some honey sticks.
We returned home, and my mum and Erica started talking about what they wanted to do with the sun room. They wanted to help me and do wonderful things, and I hated them all for it. I felt like I wanted to rip everything off the walls and floor and pile it all into the centers of all the rooms and beat the piles to dust. Something regarding pancakes, I couldn't eat. I just wanted to go into the woods and hack at a tree with my axe. And I did. I felt stupid all day, felt worthless all day, felt like I wanted to tell everybody I knew that I hate their guts, that I had more concern about the fates of the things that lived in their guts.
And for these feelings I hate every cell in this vain boys body, and want not one to remain.
Eventually my brother, Erica, and myself went up to the woods. We were hiking, looking for a tree. A very different tree that lays way up high on the edge of one crest of the valley's hills. It is a pine of some kind, bare up it's trunk til a twill of green puffs up a little, and out a lot. It is angled as if it wants to reach out just one needle further. My brother turned back about halfway there, but Erica came along with me. We passed a horse and its rider on the way up, and we twisted through towering thickets and dark tunneled paths. Under power wires, power lines, the powering kinds. We did make it to that tree. And for forty minutes we carved our initials into it's nearly perfect trunk. I faced the sunset, she faced the sunrise. I felt very close to the tree, I felt as if I knew it very well, and that it knew me too, though we had never met. It felt so comforting to lean against it and to let my arms hold it. It was better than any woman, as real as any lover, truer than an old mother. To have seen it bathed in all missed sunsets from so far away and so long ago, to have seen its ember silhouette and than felt the mortality of its brittle bark, and to have bitten my name into it's flesh - I think I felt something.
Before sleep tonight, I took another Ativan and I took my Seroquel. My only cry is one of reluctance, that I will never be able to feel this tree again in that moment.
It's a fragile cry, an ephemeral whimper. It's a strung memory in the sun's winds. I wish to wake up tomorrow, and not know a soul, and not a soul to know me. I do not want pity and I do not want care. I want to be ignored for the vain boy I am, for my cold twisted veins which knot into my grey heart.
Beams cut my room sideways, which were enough to wake me up early, the first time in a while. But I had also gone to bed around nine the night before, I had gone to bed with an Ativan and a Seroquel. It had been a pretty bad night. I felt slightly well enough to go up into the woods to take some photos. I maybe took one. It was cold and everything was frosty orange in the light. I felt very anxious and irritable, so I took an Ativan and my daily Paxil. At the market with my brother and Erica, I bought some vegetables: green onions, a cucumber, a zucchini, some sweet onions, an eggplant, some cheeses, and some honey sticks.
We returned home, and my mum and Erica started talking about what they wanted to do with the sun room. They wanted to help me and do wonderful things, and I hated them all for it. I felt like I wanted to rip everything off the walls and floor and pile it all into the centers of all the rooms and beat the piles to dust. Something regarding pancakes, I couldn't eat. I just wanted to go into the woods and hack at a tree with my axe. And I did. I felt stupid all day, felt worthless all day, felt like I wanted to tell everybody I knew that I hate their guts, that I had more concern about the fates of the things that lived in their guts.
And for these feelings I hate every cell in this vain boys body, and want not one to remain.
Eventually my brother, Erica, and myself went up to the woods. We were hiking, looking for a tree. A very different tree that lays way up high on the edge of one crest of the valley's hills. It is a pine of some kind, bare up it's trunk til a twill of green puffs up a little, and out a lot. It is angled as if it wants to reach out just one needle further. My brother turned back about halfway there, but Erica came along with me. We passed a horse and its rider on the way up, and we twisted through towering thickets and dark tunneled paths. Under power wires, power lines, the powering kinds. We did make it to that tree. And for forty minutes we carved our initials into it's nearly perfect trunk. I faced the sunset, she faced the sunrise. I felt very close to the tree, I felt as if I knew it very well, and that it knew me too, though we had never met. It felt so comforting to lean against it and to let my arms hold it. It was better than any woman, as real as any lover, truer than an old mother. To have seen it bathed in all missed sunsets from so far away and so long ago, to have seen its ember silhouette and than felt the mortality of its brittle bark, and to have bitten my name into it's flesh - I think I felt something.
Before sleep tonight, I took another Ativan and I took my Seroquel. My only cry is one of reluctance, that I will never be able to feel this tree again in that moment.
It's a fragile cry, an ephemeral whimper. It's a strung memory in the sun's winds. I wish to wake up tomorrow, and not know a soul, and not a soul to know me. I do not want pity and I do not want care. I want to be ignored for the vain boy I am, for my cold twisted veins which knot into my grey heart.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Greys
It is that deep down, I know I am very vain - I feel in my heart conceits of many colors. My color always changes, I impose myself over every color like a shade, filtering out any honesty in their true tones. It's a suck, leaving grey shades, a grey cloudless sky. The grey sun, and grey hairs. It's the grey moon, growling in a grey voice many grey songs filled with grey words in grey tones.
I have grave intentions with this grey heart.
I have grave intentions with this grey heart.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Plow the Cows
Was it a pretty day today? My uncle arrived home from India today. I picked him up at the airport and he looked thin and tan just the way he wants to be. During the time he spends here, however, he grows fat and pale. Like walking through a veil it's an uncanny transformation, not figurative and very palpable.
It is a shift I too see in myself at times. Like today. A veil of wind washed over all the streets and also over me. Veils of frustration and glory - drenched, dirty, and dying.
It was blue and warm for a few moments today, but the veils brought by the wind shook free some light snow. Icy and cold tonight, no plows.
It is a shift I too see in myself at times. Like today. A veil of wind washed over all the streets and also over me. Veils of frustration and glory - drenched, dirty, and dying.
It was blue and warm for a few moments today, but the veils brought by the wind shook free some light snow. Icy and cold tonight, no plows.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Feta Cottages
For breakfast I had an omelet with french feta and some cantaloupe with cottage cheese. I like cottage cheese after eating it in the hospital with many different fruits. Cantaloupe and melon were my favorite.
After eating and taking my medicine, I cleaned in the few spots I have been trying to finish. I wasn't able to finish either, and really didn't make any more progress than I have in the past five days. I did find an old scrap of watercolor paper which I must have done over two years ago. It was weird, because looking at it for the first time in so long, I couldn't even remember doing it. But I recognized the way I did the clouds and Tilly and the Wall.
I saw the big fat grey cat, and I tried to shoot it twice. I missed both times. I wonder if that was the cat that raped monster. We'll see.
I made an appointment with a counselor. It's Monday morning, however I am a bit anxious since I am not quite sure what to expect. I suppose that is pretty normal, for once. I think.
My left ear began to ring a new pitch just a few moments ago. It was like a switch, being pushed in or out, on or off. I'm not sure if it's the absence of silence, or the appearance of a new ring. It's hard for me to be sure.
I will try to wake up early tomorrow and make breakfast for my mum and brother. I hope that at the least I can do that. That and clean. And I need to pick my uncle up from the airport tomorrow. It won't be very good if I forget.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Rusty Rings
When the sound around me stays still, I ring. Like a round record playing a steady pitch, there are picks and pocks to the smoothness of the ring. As the skin on the back of my hands creases, I feel the scalded skin become firm and beg for nails to be deeply drawn across it. Beams of green neon flash behind my eyelids, as they flutter from exhaustion - never feeling calm when closed and never feeling strong when open.
Today was colder than yesterday. I had trouble recalling what point I was at in my life. I believe I'm at a point somewhere after it's beginning - always hoping to be a little bit closer to it's end than to it's beginning. It feels better, much much better, to believe the latter. Much much better, to imagine winding down. To at long last, be winding down this life. To at long last, be able to wind life in some direction. I'm tired of being rusty.
Today was colder than yesterday. I had trouble recalling what point I was at in my life. I believe I'm at a point somewhere after it's beginning - always hoping to be a little bit closer to it's end than to it's beginning. It feels better, much much better, to believe the latter. Much much better, to imagine winding down. To at long last, be winding down this life. To at long last, be able to wind life in some direction. I'm tired of being rusty.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
short stacks
It'll put any kid down when the few joys in life begin stacking up shorter and shorter. Maybe it's because the memories are piling up higher and higher, leaving less room for dreams and less room for desires. Maybe sanity has become too heavy to hold steady. Maybe it's a craving for unbalancing and re-balancing. It is all better as a game.
I spent a week in a psychiatric ward, beginning February 17. It was probably a lifetime too short. When I was there I wanted anything but to be there, all I wanted was to be free. But out here, all I want is back in. All I want is to be told where the boundary is, to be told there are a pair of doors I'm not to pass through. I'd like to be told what to do with ten fingers, what to do with ten tows. I'd like to be told what to see with two eyes and what to hear with two ears. I'd like to be told what to do with one life, what to do with one heart. What to do with one beat. What to do with no beat.
I've withdrawn from this semester at school, and cannot fathom re-enrolling in the fall. It seems life could move on around me. Is it a slow seep to insanity or a swift slope into sanity.
It is raining outside, the first shower of spring. I do not have a job and I do not have any money. The sap from the trees is running. We believe Monster was raped. Today the city was misty and the crests of the valley were swabbed in grey. Tonight I baked two pizzas for two friends, and now I go to sleep feeling ever as alone. Tonight I go to sleep, knowing I should not have ever been awake.
I spent a week in a psychiatric ward, beginning February 17. It was probably a lifetime too short. When I was there I wanted anything but to be there, all I wanted was to be free. But out here, all I want is back in. All I want is to be told where the boundary is, to be told there are a pair of doors I'm not to pass through. I'd like to be told what to do with ten fingers, what to do with ten tows. I'd like to be told what to see with two eyes and what to hear with two ears. I'd like to be told what to do with one life, what to do with one heart. What to do with one beat. What to do with no beat.
I've withdrawn from this semester at school, and cannot fathom re-enrolling in the fall. It seems life could move on around me. Is it a slow seep to insanity or a swift slope into sanity.
It is raining outside, the first shower of spring. I do not have a job and I do not have any money. The sap from the trees is running. We believe Monster was raped. Today the city was misty and the crests of the valley were swabbed in grey. Tonight I baked two pizzas for two friends, and now I go to sleep feeling ever as alone. Tonight I go to sleep, knowing I should not have ever been awake.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
A Game Called Thursday
It was a curl in my habits which caused a thought to cement itself to my heart. A tie to the tracks which I wanted so desperately fulfilled.
I got lost searching for myself - and stumbled back into a world I want no part of. I think I would have let it run right over this neck and these thighs, and I'd have embraced every steel wheel.
It is now all long gone and I'm here, right where I started. My soul just keeps curling, and the thoughts in my head settle and then churn, and they all leak into my chest. Ever word and ever sight, ever taste and every smell, seeps straight into my chest. I do not control it. It just is.
Friday hysterics led to Sunday salutations. A run led to a shower where I let everything curl out and away. It all simply burst and crawled down the drain after clinging down my cheeks. The salt and the tears made everything, seemingly, very clear.
And the railroads, they just seem so perfect. The perfect spacing between, the perfect level, and the perfect feel. Something about... lines.
Something about finding yourself and not seeing anything there. And that will take a long while to ever seem real.
I got lost searching for myself - and stumbled back into a world I want no part of. I think I would have let it run right over this neck and these thighs, and I'd have embraced every steel wheel.
It is now all long gone and I'm here, right where I started. My soul just keeps curling, and the thoughts in my head settle and then churn, and they all leak into my chest. Ever word and ever sight, ever taste and every smell, seeps straight into my chest. I do not control it. It just is.
Friday hysterics led to Sunday salutations. A run led to a shower where I let everything curl out and away. It all simply burst and crawled down the drain after clinging down my cheeks. The salt and the tears made everything, seemingly, very clear.
And the railroads, they just seem so perfect. The perfect spacing between, the perfect level, and the perfect feel. Something about... lines.
Something about finding yourself and not seeing anything there. And that will take a long while to ever seem real.
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