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10.13.2010
10.11.2010
10.10.2010
12:36
September
I want you to know how sane you keep me. Your absence, however brief, is allowing terribly anxious, if not neurotic thoughts to stir up and around so uncomfortably. You make everything completely accurate. Nothing matters, not the way I take care to choose the best act, dress, voice, diction. The way others treat others, the corruption on the streets and in the courts, it's all too entirely irrelevant. You've taught me this probably unknowingly on your part. I've noticed and considered every detail of your being. Every message you may have to convey. My intent observation has finally proven convenient and for this and for you, I am incredibly grateful. I wish I would never run out of words for you, because I fear the end of this as a letter, as it's not even reached the qualifications nor has it said it all. Maybe it all has yet to dawn. But the more we prevail, the closer we come every day to the end, to solitude, to revelation of perhaps the least desirable kind. Or maybe this is better achieved than not. I prefer to chase inspiration rather than retreat at sight of a risk.
I want you to know how sane you keep me. Your absence, however brief, is allowing terribly anxious, if not neurotic thoughts to stir up and around so uncomfortably. You make everything completely accurate. Nothing matters, not the way I take care to choose the best act, dress, voice, diction. The way others treat others, the corruption on the streets and in the courts, it's all too entirely irrelevant. You've taught me this probably unknowingly on your part. I've noticed and considered every detail of your being. Every message you may have to convey. My intent observation has finally proven convenient and for this and for you, I am incredibly grateful. I wish I would never run out of words for you, because I fear the end of this as a letter, as it's not even reached the qualifications nor has it said it all. Maybe it all has yet to dawn. But the more we prevail, the closer we come every day to the end, to solitude, to revelation of perhaps the least desirable kind. Or maybe this is better achieved than not. I prefer to chase inspiration rather than retreat at sight of a risk.
10.06.2010
ancient updates
TIMELINE
5.10
11.30pm
It’s amazing having people so close who I can trust to be there, but at the same time, I want to slowly drive everyone away to prove to myself I have the strength to lead myself. But that is where my writing comes in. No one sees this. I’m the only one aware this even exists. It’s amazing having secrets, it’s reassuring. But then these words only make me miss one person more than ever and I’m not sure if I’m ready to share this with him yet.
6.15
9.30pm
I’m going to name my children Sativa and Indica.
6.19
1145pm
Sleepy moth. I love the sunlight.
I’m wasting all of this fucking time sitting and staring at the nothing I’ve become. I could be doing this. Creating who I will become. It’s the worst feeling, knowing I’m solely responsible for this. I hate myself for it and I hate everything I am. This is where it all comes from.
I found some things in the garage that have proven themselves time capsules. Everything has changed into some confusing, chaotic “nothing.” And even if these words are far from beautiful, articulate, well-descriptive, I’ll be damned if I don’t still get them down.
I try to promise to myself that I’ll do this more but every time I can’t ever commit. I know I’ll let myself down and I can’t handle that. If I can’t trust myself, who the fuck else is there? No one else knows enough to set these goals for me. No one but him, but he’s so far gone, it’ll take such work to get him back into my life. I have no real reason to return, but all the excuse to get your attention again. Please don’t let this turn into another letter. I kill myself every time I don’t send one.
I feel like I’m typing a fountain but again I am lying to myself. This should be more dense. Flowing more freely. More consistent. Waterfalls never run dry. This is what I’m trying to become.
6.23
2am
Here’s to new friends, old acquaintances, beer, dogs, burritos, beetles and bikes. A fantastic series of events beginning with yoga and ending in the back of a stranger’s car with a dog on my lap. A hide-a-bed couch in a park and a pot circle in the vicinity of children and many dogs. An old friend dearly, dearly missed and found. A best friend reconnected with. A mind reestablished. Practice fucking practice. Today the weather was unforgettable.
7.12
3pm
I was asked the cliche, "Are you who you want to be?"
If I were, then “who I want to be” would be obsolete. There would be no more desire. If we didn’t want to be anything more, there would be nothing to do and we hate static. Where I want to be, in terms of existence, is an entirely different story.
7.25
1030pm
I used to want to change the world. Now all I can think about is changing myself.
8.11
117am
I’m still waiting for some fucked up sort of miracle. I appeared to have found something sufficient, but it’s all a lost cause. God how I need to see it all.
8.23
12am
I would always see the end from the start. I knew it would end, and it wouldn’t ever be the same. With us all I see is a million beginnings.
5.10
11.30pm
It’s amazing having people so close who I can trust to be there, but at the same time, I want to slowly drive everyone away to prove to myself I have the strength to lead myself. But that is where my writing comes in. No one sees this. I’m the only one aware this even exists. It’s amazing having secrets, it’s reassuring. But then these words only make me miss one person more than ever and I’m not sure if I’m ready to share this with him yet.
6.15
9.30pm
I’m going to name my children Sativa and Indica.
6.19
1145pm
Sleepy moth. I love the sunlight.
I’m wasting all of this fucking time sitting and staring at the nothing I’ve become. I could be doing this. Creating who I will become. It’s the worst feeling, knowing I’m solely responsible for this. I hate myself for it and I hate everything I am. This is where it all comes from.
I found some things in the garage that have proven themselves time capsules. Everything has changed into some confusing, chaotic “nothing.” And even if these words are far from beautiful, articulate, well-descriptive, I’ll be damned if I don’t still get them down.
I try to promise to myself that I’ll do this more but every time I can’t ever commit. I know I’ll let myself down and I can’t handle that. If I can’t trust myself, who the fuck else is there? No one else knows enough to set these goals for me. No one but him, but he’s so far gone, it’ll take such work to get him back into my life. I have no real reason to return, but all the excuse to get your attention again. Please don’t let this turn into another letter. I kill myself every time I don’t send one.
I feel like I’m typing a fountain but again I am lying to myself. This should be more dense. Flowing more freely. More consistent. Waterfalls never run dry. This is what I’m trying to become.
6.23
2am
Here’s to new friends, old acquaintances, beer, dogs, burritos, beetles and bikes. A fantastic series of events beginning with yoga and ending in the back of a stranger’s car with a dog on my lap. A hide-a-bed couch in a park and a pot circle in the vicinity of children and many dogs. An old friend dearly, dearly missed and found. A best friend reconnected with. A mind reestablished. Practice fucking practice. Today the weather was unforgettable.
7.12
3pm
I was asked the cliche, "Are you who you want to be?"
If I were, then “who I want to be” would be obsolete. There would be no more desire. If we didn’t want to be anything more, there would be nothing to do and we hate static. Where I want to be, in terms of existence, is an entirely different story.
7.25
1030pm
I used to want to change the world. Now all I can think about is changing myself.
8.11
117am
I’m still waiting for some fucked up sort of miracle. I appeared to have found something sufficient, but it’s all a lost cause. God how I need to see it all.
8.23
12am
I would always see the end from the start. I knew it would end, and it wouldn’t ever be the same. With us all I see is a million beginnings.
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