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.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
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.
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