The last thing I ever wrote

Making it through another sleepless night. Wishing I was staying awake for something important. Rather, I am restless with continuous thoughts of letting go and crossing over. I'm typing till light. Hoping that the light of a new dawn will show me the way to another day. One more day. One day at a time.

This time it feels serious. I hate feeling. I hate eating. I hate sleeping. I hate shitting. I hate talking. I hate working. I hate cleaning. I hate thinking. I hate convincing myself I don't hate these things. What if this really was the last thing I ever wrote? What does it really matter. Gone is gone. Each letter becomes a memory as soon as it is typed. Each word is then eventually forgotten until it was never even written at all. Remembered. Rewriten. Forgotten. Forever.

What is there to accomplish when each day accomplishes the same thing? Moving on past the present future. Moving on while staying in the same place. Preface forward to the afterward. Done and set back on the shelf to collect dust to dust.

"And all you see is where else you can be when you're at home. And out on the street are so many possibilities to not be alone." And on the street you are alone where you'll see the same possibility you'll find at home. Alone is home, and on the street you'll be homesick. Alone is all we can be. Alone is all we ever will be. Alas, amen, and adieu.

3:40 AM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Feels like floating

I feel like I'm floating. Surprising myself that I am cordinated enough to type at the moment. I went to bed last night feeling stuffy, and woke up this morning completely stopped up. My head felt heavy as I picked it up off the pillow, and started to spin as the sinuses began crawling under the weight of gravity. I have a cold. Ugh. Not sure if it's the weather change or the fact that I was around a bunch of people this weekend. Maybe both. Shaking the sweaty hand of sick people will do that to you.

Now I'm on over-the-counter meds and I'm feeling high. I'm breating easier, but slower. Everything is feeling slow in fact. As I type, I can feel every key as I press them over and over. The backspace key is getting the most attention. I'm zoned in on tapping and breathing. If I were to get up and try to run right now I would feel like I was trapped in one of those dreams where no matter how hard you try, you muscles just won't run as fast as you know you can. Feels like swimming. Trapped in the sheets. Wadded and tangled.

Why lay down and sleep when I feel like I am already there. My body probably hates me right now. All the white blood cell factories are having to work overtime and I'm pushing for the union members to go on strike. "Hell no! We won't multiply." That's ok though. That is why we have created meds as cheap labor to come in and do the job till the whities put down their picket signs and get back to work.

Where was I? I think I just woke up. No. Looks like I'm still floating.

4:11 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

My neighbors are dirty bastards

I just feel like writing at the moment. Kinda like a warm up for no reason. Like maturbation without porn. Like cereal without milk.

I was woken up this morning to unusual noises coming from my bathroom. To my sleepy surprise, the sewer in my apartment was backed up and the bathtub was filling with my neighbor's bathwater filled with bits of their morning shits. I gagged, then imediately called the apartment manager to tell them the news. They sent a plumber and they had it fixed within an hour. As the plumber was on his way out of my apartment, I stated that I thought it was pretty strange how I was the only one who called, and that none of my neighbors had said a word! He told me that it was the apartment on the end of my building that was the culpret. He agreed and thought that the apartments on that end would have called first since mine would be the last to be backed up. I asked, "Then what's that saying about my neighbors?" He responded, "Yeah. They're all dirty bastards." I could not believe that people are so lazy that they'd rather sit in other people's excrement and think someone else will come to save the day, rather than take some initative to get the shit out of their house!!! My neighbors are dirty bastards. Good for them. It gives the roaches a place to live instead of my apartment.

Random bit of sharing:
I overheard an interesting little bit of a conversation this weekend. A couple wispered to each other, "Hey look. That's the girl that slept with your friend Justin."

11:19 AM - 3 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Just blogged on myself...

...and I think I got some in my hair.

I'm on my second cup of coffee right now. It's that time of day...the time most people pack up and sit in traffic en route to their homes. I realize each day at 5 pm when I start yawning, that if I worked 9 to 5, I would understand why after returning home I would have no energy left to do much other than eat and watch tv. But as I sip my coffee and feel the caffeine awaken my senses toward another few hours of getting things done, I feel glad that I am not in traffic. I feel warm inside knowing that I can wake back up and keep on working at my own pace till my body decides to shut down completely for the evening.

My sympathies go out to the nine-to-fivers. For all those things you continually tell yourself you'd rather be doing instead of working and waking and working some more, I say drink coffee, allow 30 min to wake back up, then turn off that tv and get to it. The night is still young, and primetime sucks anyway. While the groggy people in the night watch LOST and talk about it around the water cooler the next day, you can get lost and be groggy the next day. Besides, hearing someone tell the story of an episode of LOST sounds to me like much more fun than watching it...in a forgotten tall-telling, yarn-spinning sort of way.

I'm realizing I'm no use at a water cooler conversation unless people want to hear about myself working more, making art, writing, or riding my bike through dark neighborhoods during primetime and passing by windows revealing people sitting and watching television...thinking to myself as I peddle by that windows are funny things where one can see the world from the inside out during the day, and from the outside in during the night.

5:30 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Too many cigarettes

Been smoking a lot of cigarettes today. I think I upped my habit while visiting New York over the past weekend, where I smoked more than usual. Now that I have returned back to Texas, I'm still winding down, and instead of pacing around the room underneath a mountain of things I need to catch up on, I have resorted to smoking. My lungs hate me at the moment, but my mind is thankful of the pauses from the thoughts and worries that are racing through it.

One thing at a time. I've made my to-do list, and all I can do is work through one thing at a time, and do my best to not feel overwhelmed by it's length and each item's priority. Work on a big one. Check it off. Then work on a small one. Slowly show off some progress with each item crossed out. Breathe. And what better way to monitor your breathing than smoking?

With each cloud that escapes my lungs, I realize that I am breathing...I am alive in this moment...awaiting the next moment. Inhale. Exhale. Each moment passes and disperses with each fading cloud. Thoughts held and released between each cloudy breath. I am slowly killing myself. Smoking. Worrying. Working. Living.

Surgeon General's Warning: Smoking causes short pauses of time to reflect and slowly causes those short pauses to become more frequent yet shortening the overall amount of time you will have to enjoy them.

4:25 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Left hanging

I feel bad that this blog as not been addded to in awhile. Not that it even matters since it's just a silly MySpace fun thing which only gets a few looks from time to time...but realizing that those few readers were left with such a sad entry makes me feel a bit distressed.

Whatever. Blogs are silly. Mainly only for me to write random shit to look at later after it cracks and dries. All my entries are like little random rabbit pellets, little shits that has dropped to the floor and left you wondering if it has magically turned into a co-co puff, or piece of sausage that fell off a slice of pizza.

Oh the ups and downs of life. Written for my semi-private little anonymous audience. These past few days and weeks have once again proven that this pendalum of emotions eventually starts the upswing. All I have to do is sway with the emotion, breathe, and wait. Eventually the sky clears, the days grow shorter, and the unberably hot summer heat slowly becomes more bearable. It's about to befall.

7:03 PM - 1 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment

I fucking hate feeling

Is this a crisis? A jealous thought echoing through my head, resonating a depressive madness in this dark hole I have recently crawled into? I'm feeling the reality of the uncontrolable losses and changes that lie in wait here. Their details are unclear in the darkness ahead, but their blurry presence is still very much forseen. My choice is all that's left...stay and wait for them to move toward you, or make a move toward them. Stay and drag out the pain of a mind filled with tormented thoughts, or make a move and allow your thoughts to breathe with each new step.

As of now, I'd rather just close my eyes and slide through this dark place. Just let go and feel gravity take over. Feel the wind blow across my face. Just slide, and feel. That's all I want in life. No matter how bright, or dark this place might be, I just want to be sliding through it all, with the wind in my hair blowing the thoughts from my head.

I guess it was about time to feel like this again. I fucking hate feeling.

8:57 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Racing

Write about what you feel, and at the moment the mood is anxious. So many things to accomplish. So many things that stand in the way that must be tackled before I can get to accomplishing. Hoping that accomplishments can someday pay the bills, but paying the bills at the moment by leaping over the hurdles in this race that has already started. When the starting gun sounded, I started running with the finish line in sight. Trained and prepared, the finish line would be cake. Now my lungs are burning and my legs cry with each leap. My brain is wondering whether the finish line is one or two more laps away. My prerogative is that the finish line is just a mere step into the grass flanking my right. Stopping is finishing, right!? When is it cowardice and when is it admitting defeat? When is it just a decision to move onto something else? It's only cowardice when others are watching...expecting...depending. Otherwise it's just another training run.

I've run this far, outlasting most, if not all, of the other racers. I've been running on my own now for so long, I don't even remember if I was even racing anyone when this whole race started. Now my legs are just numbly jerking on auto-pilot while these thoughts race on through my head with no finish line in sight.

7:15 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Calm before the storm

I found one. A quiet moment. A brief encounter with an open space in time, allowing my thoughts to come and go as they please. They are pleasant today, making this moment all the more pleasurable. I feel happy, peaceful, content. I'm compelled to write this down as a reminder that moments like this can be found. Today...right now..I am breathing. Smiling with each breath. Tomorrrow is a thought that will make it's thunderous entrance soon. For now things are quiet. For now the quiet is heard loud and clear. A calm before the storm perhaps. A medetative moment of preparation. Tomorrow the winds can come and toss me where they please. Today I'll close my eyes and be still for a moment longer.

2:01 PM - 0 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Long distance makes the heart long

I’ve fallen into this…no it feels more like I jumped in, with the hopeful notion that “There’s really only one way to find out what’s going to happen.” Falling was the beautiful part. It always is. You feel like you are floating, suspended in a beautiful moment. In the back of your mind you know that you are really falling toward the ground, but the moment’s beauty is also just as real as the impending crash. Floating is worth it, making the crash, however hard, ultimately worth it as well. It’s choice and consequence…life and experience…only this one hit unexpectedly hard. Now my knees are weak, and my insides are bruised. My heart aches for the ground to crumble once more. Struggling to stand, I look back through the thousand miles I had once floated between and smile. The memories are still fresh. They still taste. They still smell. These bruises become a painfully beautiful reminder that time will heal, but it’s the healing that will hurt the most. This long distance will become the death of me, yet this long distance has proven to provide new life for me as well. Looking up, I’d like to expect that I’ll be floating again soon, but expectation is false. It’s the unexpected that has always proven itself true. I can only expect the unexpected and cherish each of these unexpected moments as they float by.

I am happy to have met you. Sad that we will have to meet again. Hopeful that it will be soon. Long distance makes the heart long.

11:51 AM - 3 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment