Love

It passed. Everything passes eventually. Here in my quiet corner, an empty storeroom filled with memories. In a place where I can silently hate myself for all the things that I should be but cannot find the strength to be. Where I don't have to afraid to tell you that I love you. Where I don't have to be afraid to express how much I care. Where I can be human, up to my standards, and not feel like a freak for it. Maybe its just a load of bullshit. That I care, that I attempt to rise above my nature. It came to a time I am willing to admit that there's something fundamentally wrong with me. I can't change it, I cant do anything about it. I hate it, the way it makes me helpless in some situations. Once in awhile. Its alright.

I just want to be good enough, for once. Good enough. Thats all. Not even perfect, not yet.

Love is real, real is love,
Love is feeling, feeling love,
Love is wanting to be loved.
Love is touch, touch is love,
Love is reaching, reaching love,
Love is asking to be loved.
Love is you,
You and me,
Love is knowing,
We can be.
Love is free, free is love,
Love is living, living love,
Love is needing to be loved.

Ye Godes!

Geez-Lousie. I need to do something to control this uncontrollable itch. Do not pick up the phone and dial the wrong number if you do. Such blase writing is so unbecoming. Gods. Art thou there. Come down and hear our cry.

Subinmo

Sue me. I don't want to be happy. Not anymore. Not after all this. I can't afford it. Three long years, where every second feels like my fingernails grating on the chalkboard. Three long years, where I feel my heart ache everyday. Where I think I'm dying. Drowning, like a baby in the swimming pool. Thrown in the deep end, experiencing the past once again. Swimming, barely, against the tides, against the flow of time, against the crashing cymbals. Time stands still for me. And the world moves on. Tide and time wait for no man. I am no man. I am the symbol of a person. Not a real person. I don't take joy anymore. It's alright, it's not wicked, it's peaceful. Where I am. Lost in the moment, lost in the singularity of my self.

Nothing happens, nothing happens, anymore.

Can't you see I'm trying?

When you say "look at me love, I have just surpassed the Human Race!" The most important bit of information in that sentence is not that you have accomplished the impossible. Rather, your lover is watching on, smiling, a secret smile for the joy in her heart. Only then, is achieving the impossible worth something.

I just want to know

If love is free.
Why do we guard it so closely?
Why do we keep it so tightly?
And why do we suffer so much?

Maybe i am an emo kid

Mood, shitty, like every emo blog, the mood of a person should be somewhere, in darker tones. Talking of something horrible, foreboding, unwanted, rejected by all.

Apparently its a river in Egypt. The thought of something that once meant the world to me. The very fact that it still boggles and bogs down on me pretty much says what it does mean. In reference to that very long river. We like to think we're something that we're not, we like to think that we're better than we are. We like to hope tomorrow will be better than today, or things will get easier once we grow up. I've grown to doubt that. Sometimes We hope for the impossible, because we want to see it happen.

Watch the rage Jeremy. Take it easy. Its alright if life has wronged you, it's wronged everybody else as well. Stop being irritated with poor excuses. Wronged in little ways that aren't entirely your fault. Hoping for things to get better. And being free with your love, care, and concern. It'll wear you out. Take care of yourself, because no one will take care of you.

I used to be a little boy. I guess I still am. Torn between trying to be kinder and harder. You cant have both, either love somebody loyaly through adversity or have them experience unreciprocated love. Aren't we all human, children in a universe infinitely grown. Trying to find our place like children trying to understand our parents. Answers come, only too late. Love returns, only to find out that the time for it has passed.

I once asked why. And a friend of mine replied, once, there was somebody who would forever be the only person I wanted to build a life with. Now she's no longer mine, so i've resolved to settle for number two.

My mind, responds with images from Mr Brightside.

By the crashing waves

The lonely moon hung high
Cut by light,
Cut by you,
By the memory of something that once meant the world to me.

Ceremony

If life can be summed up, it would be summed up in ceremony. Not just the song, but the different rites of passage we have in our lives. The way the wheels turn for me and you hardly mean anything, unless they turn together.

I think I love the song because it gets me. It understands eternity the way I do. In the innocent; that which goes on forever way. Without thinking about the magnitude of it, it deals with forever one moment at a time, one heartbeat at a time. More deeply, one possibility in the infinite spectrum of the multiverse at a time. Somehow, they are all the same. The same sequence of events. Because I believe deep down inside, though the world around us may change, we will always be human beings. Capable of love, freedom, independant action, hope, and the believe that these things are attainable against ALL odds.

This is why events unnerve me,
They find it all, a different story,
Notice whom for wheels are turning,
Turn again and turn towards this time,
All she asks the strength to hold me,
Then again the same old story,
World will travel, oh so quickly,
Travel first and lean towards this time.

Oh, Ill break them down, no mercy shown,
Heaven knows, its got to be this time,
Watching her, these things she said,
The times she cried,
Too frail to wake this time.

Oh Ill break them down, no mercy shown
Heaven knows, its got to be this time,
Avenues all lined with trees,
Picture me and then you start watching,
Watching forever, forever,
Watching love grow, forever,
Letting me know, forever.

Mostly, its the expectation that something follows after an event that makes life worth living. For every ounce of suffering, every pound on our fragile hearts, every beat we take for granted, we believe there is a consequence. There is a reason, and in some naive way, we expect to be compensated in full for all our sacrificed happiness.

Girls like girls

The difference between men and women is the difference between solitude and being alone. The problem with women are all the things that they believe make them attractive. The idea of a person trying to fit into a stereotype is not comforting. Its a wonder they are upset when they're objectified.

Do you remember the first time?

She makes love just like a woman, but she breaks just like a little girl. Dylan inspires me. Sometimes I die just thinking about the words. Because I need you. Honestly I hate it, admitting it to myself, but ever since you called, I've been dying inside with all the life you've inspired me with.

If there were ever a scared chord, it would be the one that played when I met you. Not met you but Met You. Why am I like this. I'd love to know, rather than wither every day without you, lost, longing and listless. Half drunk (because completely drunk would be at the pass out stage), I think... ... ... ... about you. Your smile, and how much It'd got through just to earn that.

You talk about how much he didn't. you looked at me and said it. For all your genius, you're still stuck to whatever mankind is stuck with. Idiocy, and forgiveness.

If I tell you the Truth?

It's not loyalty, it's stupidity. Sometimes perspective is all the difference between what is, and what is holding you back.

I find myself again at the corner of another December. For all my recent optimism, I doubt that I'll survive this one. I wonder when the reality of Decembers became a matter of survival. At some juncture they became unbearable. It always irks me, the bright lights in the streets, the ton of movie game and other media releases. That fake Feel Good Christmas cheer. It has always disgusted me, how they turned a religious holiday into a commercial fanfare.

Speaking of Fans, I've recently read Clyde Fans Company. It's good. I guess I never really saw graphic novels as a medium for quiet contemplation, "silent sobriety". It's a pleasant surprise to find work that is so different form the "Razzle-Dazzle" I'm so used to. A little stupid I guess, to be admitting this, but as much as I'd like to think that it's obvious, I would never have expected to see something this sophisticated expressed in the length of a book. To a certain irony, the novel in Graphic Novel is almost overstood.

Attending the lecture today, made me feel like a student again. Escaping form the regimentations of an army life. Escaping from a place where I'm barely surviving. I miss, being in a discussion where the topic actually holds my interest for more than five seconds. Talking about things like Schadenfreude and the untranslatability of it reminds me of the time where I was so obsessed with the idea of Litost. Talking about David Lynch and finding someone who's willing to admit the most frightful thing (that he cannot be understood) makes me feel at ease, and bringing up references in Clerks 2, and that insightful scene of "inter-species erotica".

It's all well and good. A marvelous journey into discovery, searching within yourself to find somewhere the sum of your imaginations and knowledge belongs. I guess I've gotten used to and beaten down by people who can't be bothered with what I have to say. Its both frustrating and shameful to my inner child to admit that I was ever beaten down to this state where I cannot even be bothered to lift a finger to save something so important and dear to me. Looking back I think it was the process of learning to let go I never really got the hang of. I now know to let go, its just the part where I'm supposed to hold back and want something again where it eludes me.

I know I miss Samantha more than I'm willing to admit. She's great to talk to and whenever we do talk I come out of it better than I went in. Refreshed, ready for another bout of getting kicked around. It's not really consequential, the stuff that we talk about. But being in her presence is always a comfort, because the lines are well defined. We both want the same thing. It's the relationships like this that are a joy. There are no boundaries we can cross. Well, there are. It's just that the expectation for the relationship is such that you can express yourself as liberally and freely as you want, without fear of overstepping unseen toes. Its frustrating that I feel this way with most of my relationships with women. Close, and distant, close and distant again. Like a bad cha-cha, back and forth until somebody makes a wrong move, than the dance is over. The music stops, and its back to the cold bleak reality where you're alone.

Why do we try to get close, to feel like we did yesterday when it was gone and broken so long ago because of our actions? Why do we persist in a relationship where we obviously want different things. For three years, I've been wondering. Why do you call every now and then. The truth is that's not what really bothers me. I've grown accustomed to the life I have now. In a sense its mostly painful, but mostly bearable as well. I've managed in some way to turn my existence into some form of exquisite torture. Just happy enough to live until tomorrow. How the world frowns on suicide is a mixed message.

It's these ironic mixed messages that tear me apart mostly. To quote from Mr Lennon, "as soon as you're born they make you feel small". And in Fight Club another, "You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake". The point is, our significance in this world is pretty non-existent. Why then does society frown upon suicide when its something it propagates? Here I guess we go back to Schadenfreude. In a sense its the ultimate sadist's pleasure. To watch someone suffer, to have them hang on because of you, making them believe that they are a necessity in your life. From the pain and the struggles they confide in you, you feel better about yourself. The scent of roses about you, proud of giving someone else a reason to live. When all it was, was forcing them to hang on beyond their time. To grow old, decrepit, tired, worn-out, lonely, sickly, unwanted, unloved, uninspired, and die that way. Many years after you. After you had lived a life no less empty, but slightly less alone.

Posted by viper7data on Nov 05 2007 at 03:02

Our Ripper, who art on mininova,
aXXo be thy name.
Thy torrents come.
Seeding will be done,
Here as it was on suprnova.
Give us this day our latest rips.
And forgive us our leeching,
As we forgive those that leech from us.
And lead us not on to private trackers;
But deliver us from the MPAA:
For thine is the ripping, the seeding, and the glory,
For ever and ever.

You can look at yourself sleep the clock around

I never will get songs that sing of innocence. When I was young all I wanted to be was older. Now, I'm not so sure. I lie down in bed, and dream my day away. Against the blaring trumpets, and notes held on for too long, is the memory of you. Some might say it was better to, than never to have. Sometimes even that leaves me unsure. Tired, of the monotony of doing and facing my mortality each time things crumble. We've grown apart. We're different. Things will never be like they seemed yesterday, all those years ago.

Its a crying shame to live in a world of ones. One life, one first time, one opportunity, one chance to make things work. Too used to messing up, we stop trying, some of us never even tried in the first place. Things end after all. Why bother, to try and make things right? Why bother to give it your all. Sometimes I wonder, maybe its just a force of habit. Maybe its a genetic thing. Maybe it was the way I grew up. I cannot imagine my life any other way, yet sometimes I wonder what it'd be like. Sometimes I try to change it. Mostly I sleep, I dream, and I wake up with the faint curiosity if today is the day where life starts picking up for me.