Monday, February 13, 2006
A few years ago I went on a date which basically went horribly, and despite what I considered to be numerous sacrifices on my behalf, I got blatantly rejected. I swore to myself after that, that I would never again compromise my dignity for a member of the opposite sex, regardless of the potential rewards. Years have passed and I find myself managing to keep this promise. I am both pleased and frustrated. By the way I hate “the game,” and its players.
She sits upon a stool and stares blindly into the haze before her. Her visage is that of empty feelings, as if a dried husk, a hollow woman, a wasted potential. She does not blink for she requires no blinking. She does not breath for she requires no air. She does not speak for she requires no communication. She does not feel for she requires no contact. She does not live for she requires no passion. But those around her would gape and stare. Many trying to unlock something which is not un-lockable, and those intelligent enough to notice no keyhole attempt to breath life into her, with promises of beautiful things. They throw themselves senselessly against this automaton of vision. But they know not that she serves no other purpose but to distract, for that is all she knows.
“I am not angry you know. I am… disappointed in myself. I thought myself more perceptive than to fall into an old trap. I’ll not compromise my dignity for a girl. I’ve been there and I hate myself when I do it, even if it means something more. It’s ok. I’m not bitter. I swear. Just… disappointed… Ok maybe a little pissed off. Fine angry. What the fuck man! Fuck the Game, and its players. You wanna play this shit with me you play by my rules. I make my own rules. What’s that? You walkin away??? You lose bitch… Fuck…” But he also lost there didn’t he?
“Don’t hate the player man. Hate the game.”
“Damn straight.”
“I hate everything. Because my life sucks”
“Dude, what a tard.”
“Yeah man real winner here.”
“Leave me alone.”
“You think your life sucks? What about that friend with the triple fractured ankle who can’t get a doctor to see her?”
“Touché asshole now get the fuck our of my face.”
Fuck you Valentine.
She sits upon a stool and stares blindly into the haze before her. Her visage is that of empty feelings, as if a dried husk, a hollow woman, a wasted potential. She does not blink for she requires no blinking. She does not breath for she requires no air. She does not speak for she requires no communication. She does not feel for she requires no contact. She does not live for she requires no passion. But those around her would gape and stare. Many trying to unlock something which is not un-lockable, and those intelligent enough to notice no keyhole attempt to breath life into her, with promises of beautiful things. They throw themselves senselessly against this automaton of vision. But they know not that she serves no other purpose but to distract, for that is all she knows.
“I am not angry you know. I am… disappointed in myself. I thought myself more perceptive than to fall into an old trap. I’ll not compromise my dignity for a girl. I’ve been there and I hate myself when I do it, even if it means something more. It’s ok. I’m not bitter. I swear. Just… disappointed… Ok maybe a little pissed off. Fine angry. What the fuck man! Fuck the Game, and its players. You wanna play this shit with me you play by my rules. I make my own rules. What’s that? You walkin away??? You lose bitch… Fuck…” But he also lost there didn’t he?
“Don’t hate the player man. Hate the game.”
“Damn straight.”
“I hate everything. Because my life sucks”
“Dude, what a tard.”
“Yeah man real winner here.”
“Leave me alone.”
“You think your life sucks? What about that friend with the triple fractured ankle who can’t get a doctor to see her?”
“Touché asshole now get the fuck our of my face.”
Fuck you Valentine.
Monday, January 30, 2006
“There is something I want to know, and you’ve never given me a straight answer about this. Why did you dump me?”
“... I told you before. It kinda died for me. I started to feel different about the whole thing. It stopped feeling right. I can’t explain it completely it just happened I guess.”
“I don’t believe you. It’s been what, nine months now? You still think you don’t know? Tell me.”
“I’m serious. I don’t think about it that much you know. I just prefer to put things behind me.“
“Bullshit. You can’t keep anything inside and you’re a compulsive obsessor… I think you do know, and you don’t want to hurt me. I’m ready now. I’m over you. But I want to get to the bottom of what you couldn’t tell me. So I’ll ask again. What made your do it?”
“Many things.”
“Such as?”
“Well I’m not lying about feeling a different vibe. It’s just. Well. Ok it was many things. Ever since my relationship before you, I’d been on the lookout for someone else. You know being in love is a great feeling. I loved it. I wanted to return to it. I wanted to move on. So when we started going out, and everything was working out great I kinda rushed into it head first. I wanted to reach that stage again so badly. So I guess I kinda burnt myself out. Wanting it too much.”
“So you lied about being in love with me.”
“No I didn’t because I thought I was. I wanted to be. See I lied to myself.”
“Ok so what are the other reasons?”
“Well, see because I ran in blind I didn’t let certain things bother me too much. You were all over me you know. Always telling me about how awesome I was, and how you wished you could do half the things I did. I’m not special. I’m no renaissance man, and you kept putting me up on this pedestal.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did, and worse, every time you did, it was putting yourself down with that compliment. ‘You do all this stuff that I ‘cant do.’ Dude. And I even tried telling you about how that bothered me once, and you got all defensive about how strong you were and stuff. “
“Hey I’m not some wide eyed bimbo if that what you think I am.”
“No I never said that. I’m saying that you were trying too hard to appeal to me… Don’t you see? Look you came out of your relationship with someone that hurt you as well. You were constantly asking your friends to hook you up with someone. You wanted to move on. You made exactly the same mistakes I did!”
“No. I was really into you!”
“I’m not saying you weren’t necessarily. I’m saying I got turned off by the fact that you were trying so hard to make it work. Combine that with my realization that I was in a relationship because I had wanted to be in one so bad. I felt like I needed to get some time alone, get comfortable with myself.”
“Look if you wanted some time off that’s fine, but I was never dependent on you like you say I was. I wasn’t in awe of you like some god or anything.”
“Look. I’m not the only one who noticed it ok? Even after we broke up people were telling me how you were always trying too hard to appeal to everyone. But that’s not the issue. It just a way you were, and it bothered me ok? There is no right or wrong in this situation, it’s just a question of vibe and comfort. I disillusioned myself and you in the process. I’m sorry. But in my defense I think you also disillusioned yourself.
“… Ok fine. Anything else?”
“No that’s about it. I’ve been single ever since we broke up, and for the first time in my life I don’t have this overwhelming urge to find a girlfriend in everyone that I meet. I’m actually comfortable in my solitude. Sure I get lonely from time to time. Everyone does. But for once, I’m not obsessing. I’m not desperate. And I’m having fun!”
“So that’s it? You’re going to be alone for the rest of your life?”
“No. I’ve just stopped trying so hard. I’ll meet people, and eventually chemistry will act, a spark will happen, and something might ensue, just as it might break. Same as always really, but I won’t force the feelings next time.”
“So you never loved me.”
“I thought I did. And in my defense I think you did the same thing I did.”
“That’s not true.”
“Maybe.”
“…”
“You wanted the truth.”
“You’re such an asshole. I can’t believe I even gave you the benefit of the doubt when you dumped me.”
“Look you’ll think about it some. And you will eventually realize that I’m not a bad person. Misguided, young, naïve, but not an asshole. You taught me a lot about myself and I’m grateful. I have no regrets.”
“Always about regrets with you isn’t it.”
“I live my life that way.”
“…”
“…”
“So I guess this is goodbye.”
“I guess it is. Someday you will forgive me.”
“Perhaps.”
“... I told you before. It kinda died for me. I started to feel different about the whole thing. It stopped feeling right. I can’t explain it completely it just happened I guess.”
“I don’t believe you. It’s been what, nine months now? You still think you don’t know? Tell me.”
“I’m serious. I don’t think about it that much you know. I just prefer to put things behind me.“
“Bullshit. You can’t keep anything inside and you’re a compulsive obsessor… I think you do know, and you don’t want to hurt me. I’m ready now. I’m over you. But I want to get to the bottom of what you couldn’t tell me. So I’ll ask again. What made your do it?”
“Many things.”
“Such as?”
“Well I’m not lying about feeling a different vibe. It’s just. Well. Ok it was many things. Ever since my relationship before you, I’d been on the lookout for someone else. You know being in love is a great feeling. I loved it. I wanted to return to it. I wanted to move on. So when we started going out, and everything was working out great I kinda rushed into it head first. I wanted to reach that stage again so badly. So I guess I kinda burnt myself out. Wanting it too much.”
“So you lied about being in love with me.”
“No I didn’t because I thought I was. I wanted to be. See I lied to myself.”
“Ok so what are the other reasons?”
“Well, see because I ran in blind I didn’t let certain things bother me too much. You were all over me you know. Always telling me about how awesome I was, and how you wished you could do half the things I did. I’m not special. I’m no renaissance man, and you kept putting me up on this pedestal.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did, and worse, every time you did, it was putting yourself down with that compliment. ‘You do all this stuff that I ‘cant do.’ Dude. And I even tried telling you about how that bothered me once, and you got all defensive about how strong you were and stuff. “
“Hey I’m not some wide eyed bimbo if that what you think I am.”
“No I never said that. I’m saying that you were trying too hard to appeal to me… Don’t you see? Look you came out of your relationship with someone that hurt you as well. You were constantly asking your friends to hook you up with someone. You wanted to move on. You made exactly the same mistakes I did!”
“No. I was really into you!”
“I’m not saying you weren’t necessarily. I’m saying I got turned off by the fact that you were trying so hard to make it work. Combine that with my realization that I was in a relationship because I had wanted to be in one so bad. I felt like I needed to get some time alone, get comfortable with myself.”
“Look if you wanted some time off that’s fine, but I was never dependent on you like you say I was. I wasn’t in awe of you like some god or anything.”
“Look. I’m not the only one who noticed it ok? Even after we broke up people were telling me how you were always trying too hard to appeal to everyone. But that’s not the issue. It just a way you were, and it bothered me ok? There is no right or wrong in this situation, it’s just a question of vibe and comfort. I disillusioned myself and you in the process. I’m sorry. But in my defense I think you also disillusioned yourself.
“… Ok fine. Anything else?”
“No that’s about it. I’ve been single ever since we broke up, and for the first time in my life I don’t have this overwhelming urge to find a girlfriend in everyone that I meet. I’m actually comfortable in my solitude. Sure I get lonely from time to time. Everyone does. But for once, I’m not obsessing. I’m not desperate. And I’m having fun!”
“So that’s it? You’re going to be alone for the rest of your life?”
“No. I’ve just stopped trying so hard. I’ll meet people, and eventually chemistry will act, a spark will happen, and something might ensue, just as it might break. Same as always really, but I won’t force the feelings next time.”
“So you never loved me.”
“I thought I did. And in my defense I think you did the same thing I did.”
“That’s not true.”
“Maybe.”
“…”
“You wanted the truth.”
“You’re such an asshole. I can’t believe I even gave you the benefit of the doubt when you dumped me.”
“Look you’ll think about it some. And you will eventually realize that I’m not a bad person. Misguided, young, naïve, but not an asshole. You taught me a lot about myself and I’m grateful. I have no regrets.”
“Always about regrets with you isn’t it.”
“I live my life that way.”
“…”
“…”
“So I guess this is goodbye.”
“I guess it is. Someday you will forgive me.”
“Perhaps.”
Sunday, January 29, 2006
In the north, there is a little house in the middle of a wood, on a lake, covered with ice and snow. A small tendril of smoke eschews from a small protrusion perhaps about the size of a tin can of asparagus, or tomatoes. A soft wind sharpens the hint of a razor’s edge to the austerity, bringing the foliage to life as it shifts comfortably in its resting. It shakes the white powder onto the blanket at its feet, and with a great sigh falls into a deeper sleep. Such perfection is seldom witnessed by those who know how to appreciate the beauty of such moments.
If one should walk slowly and deliberately towards the man, made structure, one will hear the crunching of snow at one’s feet, as indentations are carved irrevocably upon the surface of mother nature; a testament to those who have passed previously. Footprints, sled-prints, perfect holes in the blanket where once a beer bottle resided, cooled by her breath. The path is worn and narrow, and difficult to navigate for the chasm between the two sides of ice was difficult to build in the first place. Passage through this place was obtained through the footsteps of those who have passed before, as if a quickening of erosion.
And as you reach for the golden knob on the door to the cottage, icicles fighting to grow one drop at a time as the warmth of the cottage feeds them fresh droplets of water, a smell of woodchips and tobacco fills the senses.
If one should walk slowly and deliberately towards the man, made structure, one will hear the crunching of snow at one’s feet, as indentations are carved irrevocably upon the surface of mother nature; a testament to those who have passed previously. Footprints, sled-prints, perfect holes in the blanket where once a beer bottle resided, cooled by her breath. The path is worn and narrow, and difficult to navigate for the chasm between the two sides of ice was difficult to build in the first place. Passage through this place was obtained through the footsteps of those who have passed before, as if a quickening of erosion.
And as you reach for the golden knob on the door to the cottage, icicles fighting to grow one drop at a time as the warmth of the cottage feeds them fresh droplets of water, a smell of woodchips and tobacco fills the senses.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
These two tidbits were stuff that I wrote recently under the infulence. I've come to the conclusion that my writing is a tad self indugent. Perhaps I will be trying something new instead of venting my melodrama. In any case here are the fruits of booze.
PS: Christmas pictures are up! Thanks Mom and Dad for the camera!
Because I didn’t have the balls, I called… I called my past. I called those who refused to listen to me, I called the Antman who was forgotten even through I tried to convince him that it was true. I called those who told me I was full of shit but in fact were totally wrong. I called those to thought that life was fraught with rejections from me, and those who couldn’t see clarity was false. I called to those who told me they would be ok with their significants to fornicate with others. But honestly I don’t believe this. I am not of the similar opinion. The same testosterone flows through our veins. That makes us the way it is. I am too inebriated to relate that which goes on in my mind. Too bad that I am misunderstood. Perhaps the Turkish girl was correct. I am but an innocent hypocrite in the darkness. Damn me. I hope that Mister Tucker will come and bless this entity like I did once a long time ago. Darn. Too bad. Rawr! I miss you, and though it seems to be meaningless, never the less I persist in thinking that alcohol is a beautiful thing, Damn the masses, fornication, and sex… I am the man. Worship me… Damn u. Love Jesus and stuff. Boooyah… I have a following. I do. Respect me whilst I throw up. Damn u!
Me
Damn Hiccups!
a few days later
I watch porno and listen to Ella Fitzgerald and its cold outside. In this moment I recall a drunken rant which I made once a while ago. I can only concede that since the mistakes were not as rampant on this, which I write in this very moment, I must not needs be necessarily be quite as inebriated as I was in the previous expulsion of emotion which I did make, I still need to make heads and tails of it. In the meantime, I got my love to keep me warm… skip song. This is a fine romance. This day I must have rolled a one hundred on the dice. Random encounter hello! I bring to you the meeting of someone random whom you’ve never heard of. Roll another dice. Ahh! It is feminine and attractive. Let us roll one more dice to determine how it goes shall we? Perhaps she would be a follower of the Deceiver? The Confuser of Ways? Wait a minute did the dice say I was this geeky??? Damn! No wait I’m not! Shit.. never mind then. “TWO MAGIC!!! TWO MAGIC!!! TWO BLESSSED!!! ARGHHHH!!!” “ Tchack! I’m dead!” Booyah.
A fine romance my dead duchess. Two old….. gamers? No. I say either. My very good woman… Porno! I’m watching porno! Ahh yes… booyah… bring it on people… I guess I could end it here but I don’t think that will be enough… checkout my pics site for there will be some cool stuff up there soon… either ither... Timmah…
PS: Christmas pictures are up! Thanks Mom and Dad for the camera!
Because I didn’t have the balls, I called… I called my past. I called those who refused to listen to me, I called the Antman who was forgotten even through I tried to convince him that it was true. I called those who told me I was full of shit but in fact were totally wrong. I called those to thought that life was fraught with rejections from me, and those who couldn’t see clarity was false. I called to those who told me they would be ok with their significants to fornicate with others. But honestly I don’t believe this. I am not of the similar opinion. The same testosterone flows through our veins. That makes us the way it is. I am too inebriated to relate that which goes on in my mind. Too bad that I am misunderstood. Perhaps the Turkish girl was correct. I am but an innocent hypocrite in the darkness. Damn me. I hope that Mister Tucker will come and bless this entity like I did once a long time ago. Darn. Too bad. Rawr! I miss you, and though it seems to be meaningless, never the less I persist in thinking that alcohol is a beautiful thing, Damn the masses, fornication, and sex… I am the man. Worship me… Damn u. Love Jesus and stuff. Boooyah… I have a following. I do. Respect me whilst I throw up. Damn u!
Me
Damn Hiccups!
a few days later
I watch porno and listen to Ella Fitzgerald and its cold outside. In this moment I recall a drunken rant which I made once a while ago. I can only concede that since the mistakes were not as rampant on this, which I write in this very moment, I must not needs be necessarily be quite as inebriated as I was in the previous expulsion of emotion which I did make, I still need to make heads and tails of it. In the meantime, I got my love to keep me warm… skip song. This is a fine romance. This day I must have rolled a one hundred on the dice. Random encounter hello! I bring to you the meeting of someone random whom you’ve never heard of. Roll another dice. Ahh! It is feminine and attractive. Let us roll one more dice to determine how it goes shall we? Perhaps she would be a follower of the Deceiver? The Confuser of Ways? Wait a minute did the dice say I was this geeky??? Damn! No wait I’m not! Shit.. never mind then. “TWO MAGIC!!! TWO MAGIC!!! TWO BLESSSED!!! ARGHHHH!!!” “ Tchack! I’m dead!” Booyah.
A fine romance my dead duchess. Two old….. gamers? No. I say either. My very good woman… Porno! I’m watching porno! Ahh yes… booyah… bring it on people… I guess I could end it here but I don’t think that will be enough… checkout my pics site for there will be some cool stuff up there soon… either ither... Timmah…
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Ahh let us embrace the sensation of testicles filled tight like water balloons wanting nothing more than to quench the heat of a hot summer day. Let us bask in the glory of unfulfilled desires which leave one empty despite the overwhelming fullness of it all! Let us take the air in a breath of freshness which the lungs are unused to knowing. Let us drink deep, the clear clear waters from which no fermentation can occur. Abstinence from sin is good for the body! And yet… it’s never been more fragile. Irony is a fickle bitch who’s sense of humor’s akin to mine. Damn you for turning the joke on me!
And somewhere in the distance someone is getting laid tonight. ZING! And somewhere in the depths of my being I know comfort, for I have beaten the odds. I have conquered myself. I am the Master of my domain! But why do I continue to punish myself so? What evil do I seek to cleanse with fires of righteousness?
A test! A game of chess against myself. Free beer! Self confidence! Mmmmmm sushi….. Mastery of one’s self! Freedom from the hand! Yeah that’s it! It’s a matter of pride… yes pride! I hold my pride in my right hand! … No wait…. I won’t do that! Not yet! Not until…. until…. What was I just saying? Second only to nature! Ooooops…
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
249 hours down… 519 to go…..Must……. not……. crack…. Arrrrrrrrrrgh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And somewhere in the distance someone is getting laid tonight. ZING! And somewhere in the depths of my being I know comfort, for I have beaten the odds. I have conquered myself. I am the Master of my domain! But why do I continue to punish myself so? What evil do I seek to cleanse with fires of righteousness?
A test! A game of chess against myself. Free beer! Self confidence! Mmmmmm sushi….. Mastery of one’s self! Freedom from the hand! Yeah that’s it! It’s a matter of pride… yes pride! I hold my pride in my right hand! … No wait…. I won’t do that! Not yet! Not until…. until…. What was I just saying? Second only to nature! Ooooops…
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
249 hours down… 519 to go…..Must……. not……. crack…. Arrrrrrrrrrgh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Mister Prufrock’s frequent visits
Behind the curtain of the screen
Lost among anonymous keystrokes
The Internet
The Internet is for …
The Internet is for …
And in the room horny men come and go talking about how much the cam girl sucks
Grab you credit card and start yankin!
Discreet billing.
No adult mentions on your credit card statement.
Mister Prufrock’s name won’t appear.
Mister Prufrock’s peers will never know.
They shall say, “What the hell is Cyberweb?”
“Who the hell is Prufrock anyway?”
They will never notice.
They will never understand.
The bank will think it’s web space.
And the Admin doesn’t care.
Neither does the girl.
Just a name in an anonymous channel.
That’s what you want isn’t it?
And in the room horny men come and go talking about how much the cam girl sucks.
“No!”
“Damn she looks good.”
- Tehcamgirlsux has been kicked from chat-
“Any time now.”
- Hey baby stick it in jur ass! -
“Any time now someone is going to realize the brilliance of this.”
- Tehcamgirlsux has been banned from channel -
“There must be someone in here who will notice.”
- Hey I’m a girl and I love what you do -
- Ohh baby that was great! -
- Do you like girls? -
- I’m giving you a ten! -
Perhaps the girl?”
- Hey where do you live? -
- Close up please -
- I wish that was me right there -
“Maybe I’m just a retard.”
- Ok guy’s show’s over -
- Thanx babe see u 2morrow -
“But I haven’t finished yet!”
And in the room horny men come and go talking about how much the cam girl sucks
Beating the evening furiously
At one and two and three o’clock
With slippery hands
Coaxing out the last drop
Spitting frantically
Begging for release
And seeing it was a soft November night
Four o’clock in the morning
Sticky hands
Weary and alone
Curled into a fetal ball and fell asleep.
Behind the curtain of the screen
Lost among anonymous keystrokes
The Internet
The Internet is for …
The Internet is for …
And in the room horny men come and go talking about how much the cam girl sucks
Grab you credit card and start yankin!
Discreet billing.
No adult mentions on your credit card statement.
Mister Prufrock’s name won’t appear.
Mister Prufrock’s peers will never know.
They shall say, “What the hell is Cyberweb?”
“Who the hell is Prufrock anyway?”
They will never notice.
They will never understand.
The bank will think it’s web space.
And the Admin doesn’t care.
Neither does the girl.
Just a name in an anonymous channel.
That’s what you want isn’t it?
And in the room horny men come and go talking about how much the cam girl sucks.
“No!”
“Damn she looks good.”
- Tehcamgirlsux has been kicked from chat-
“Any time now.”
- Hey baby stick it in jur ass! -
“Any time now someone is going to realize the brilliance of this.”
- Tehcamgirlsux has been banned from channel -
“There must be someone in here who will notice.”
- Hey I’m a girl and I love what you do -
- Ohh baby that was great! -
- Do you like girls? -
- I’m giving you a ten! -
Perhaps the girl?”
- Hey where do you live? -
- Close up please -
- I wish that was me right there -
“Maybe I’m just a retard.”
- Ok guy’s show’s over -
- Thanx babe see u 2morrow -
“But I haven’t finished yet!”
And in the room horny men come and go talking about how much the cam girl sucks
Beating the evening furiously
At one and two and three o’clock
With slippery hands
Coaxing out the last drop
Spitting frantically
Begging for release
And seeing it was a soft November night
Four o’clock in the morning
Sticky hands
Weary and alone
Curled into a fetal ball and fell asleep.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Withered fingers play melancholic melodies upon the keys of a synthetic surface, bringing forth emotions of stagnation and decay. The soul burns for retribution, demanding reparations for a life cleft in twain from an organic rot deep within a broken coccyx. Time hammers upon the anvil of destiny ceaselessly, irrevocably, and brutally despite those being molded from the fires of Hephaestus. It isn’t supposed to be fair. It matters not to the greater powers. We must need flee like ants evacuating a flooded tunnel, desperately seeking to rescue the seeds of its future. They will not know vengeance for the fall of their comrades. The child with the magnifying glass is too damn big!
I have seen my putrid flesh served upon a silver platter like tartar delicacy, cutlery laced with the blood of my rectum. I have inhaled the fumes as they purged the sickness from my flesh with the fires of man. It is an unpleasant smell. All the while I felt nothing.
Alas corruption cannot be destroyed so easily. It must make sense somewhere in the mysteries of the universe, for it happens. However, the reason of it all eludes me.
Powerlessness is a frustrating state, which when merely accepted can destroy the morale of man. A small part of me wants to fight the futility, like a duty to myself. Like a man plunging headlong to a lost battle, trying hard not to let reason deter him from his glorious end. A responsibility to his pride. To submit in the face of the flow of time, the universal healer of all things, is the surest path to self destruction. I will endure, even though I know I cannot win.
I don’t suppose, that I could impose upon you, good ladies, to cut me a tidbit of thread, weave the hole shut, and tie it off for me? You’d really be doing me a great favor.
I have seen my putrid flesh served upon a silver platter like tartar delicacy, cutlery laced with the blood of my rectum. I have inhaled the fumes as they purged the sickness from my flesh with the fires of man. It is an unpleasant smell. All the while I felt nothing.
Alas corruption cannot be destroyed so easily. It must make sense somewhere in the mysteries of the universe, for it happens. However, the reason of it all eludes me.
Powerlessness is a frustrating state, which when merely accepted can destroy the morale of man. A small part of me wants to fight the futility, like a duty to myself. Like a man plunging headlong to a lost battle, trying hard not to let reason deter him from his glorious end. A responsibility to his pride. To submit in the face of the flow of time, the universal healer of all things, is the surest path to self destruction. I will endure, even though I know I cannot win.
I don’t suppose, that I could impose upon you, good ladies, to cut me a tidbit of thread, weave the hole shut, and tie it off for me? You’d really be doing me a great favor.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Lying upon my mattress on the floor, my hairy chin propped up by two pillows, my hands extended in front of me, fingers dancing across the keyboard as if playing a complex tune with some foreign instrument. The net at my disposal, and the imaginations of a repressed individual having spent too much time upon the floor, for the seated position was inappropriate and uncomfortable. I feel my body degenerating in this enclave, several feet below the surface of the earth. From time to time I venture out into the bright sunlight of the world, only to return exhausted and nostalgic of the life I have left behind all those months ago, a life which I long to return to, one who’s reunion is certain and elusive. If my time down here in this prison like place has taught me anything it’s that I truly value more all the things which exist outside the fictitious realities of a computer screen and written word. I’ve learned my lesson Life. I know I’ve been negligent. I know I have to learn responsibility and purge the causal comforts associated with that which I take for granted. I must begin to regenerate and strengthen. I no longer wish to waste away upon the floor. My resurrection is at hand. It is time. Release me.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
One of the first things I got into when I first plunged myself into the world of the internet was the IRC chat rooms. I must have been about 15 years old when I first entered one for the first time. It was one where people met to talk about Japanese cartoons. In time I made some friends and migrated over to one of the larger networks, EFNET. We spent hours every day talking about random shit. Then of course the older people all started traveling to meet each other, and eventually have sex. It caused a lot of drama. The most typical story would be one member or the other would be in an online relationship, travel to meet the person in question, screw like rabbits, and then the following morning whilst the partner was taking a shower, use their computer finding out, reading chat logs, that the individual was having cyber sex with about three of his/her friends in the channel. This would result in channel scandal, and members of the chat room would takes sides and eventually split off into two separate rooms, only to have the process repeat itself in some other parallel scenario. Being one of the youngest members, we just sat and watched all the drama. It was very educational.
In time, I got fed up with the constant repetition of it all. I considered on several occasions to go meet some people myself, but it never really worked out seeing as I was too young to travel alone to visit complete strangers. So I left.
Every couple of years since then, I stop and think about what happened to those people, and how the chat rooms would have evolved since those days. From time to time I act on my curiosity. I download a copy of MIRC and travel back to EFNET which is all but deserted these days. #cyberheaven, #17-25, #chathouse are completely empty save for #loonybin where the IRC bot Johnson still stands guard from an attack. Otherwise it remains lifeless with no sign on activity since the days we once hung out there.
In time, I got fed up with the constant repetition of it all. I considered on several occasions to go meet some people myself, but it never really worked out seeing as I was too young to travel alone to visit complete strangers. So I left.
Every couple of years since then, I stop and think about what happened to those people, and how the chat rooms would have evolved since those days. From time to time I act on my curiosity. I download a copy of MIRC and travel back to EFNET which is all but deserted these days. #cyberheaven, #17-25, #chathouse are completely empty save for #loonybin where the IRC bot Johnson still stands guard from an attack. Otherwise it remains lifeless with no sign on activity since the days we once hung out there.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Ella Fitzgerald
I lie of the floor trying to figure out exactly how I went from a three day long melancholy disposition to the beginnings of feeling better. Ive kept all of my wirtings up to now purely artistic, but that sort of thing isn’t satisfying enough for me to feel better sometimes when the mood hits me. I’ve kept from writing direct things about myself for fear of revealing certain aspects of myself which I am ashamed of. These are things which all human beings feel sometimes but I take it upon myself sometimes to conquer my emotions with logic and reason. I don’t like it sometimes when I get swept up by myself, and when I try and wirte about this it feels like I am reading the pathetic ramblings of an insecure teenager. I am in fact twnty five years of age and somewhat mature, at least I consider myself, for the amount of emotional experience I have felt. It is this constant expectations of myself to be able to conquer negativity through cold logic and indifference which makes it so hard sometimes. I’ve done things in the past which I am ashamed of. Rather I have dealt with certain situations in ways which, looking back made me feel childish. I suppose that when such childish emotions begin to take hold of me again I begin to hate myself for feeling a certain way, and as such nstead of trying to work my way thourhg it I’ve been repressing certain things from shame. This brings me down.
Being down is no crime. It hits everyone from time to time, and as such I feel no shame to tell people that im a little depressed. What is embarrassing to me is trying to admit to myself that the cause.
This is the third Halloween. About two and a half years ago I brokeup a relationship in which I had invested a great deal of emotional energy. The break came at a moment when I was already dealing with a great deal of stress. I was doing a boring internship at the Central bank of west Africa. The jobs sucked and I basically spent three months doing nothing. Not only that but I used to come home to an alcoholic mother with whom I used to have violent arguments. It was a very difficult time for me. My parents were threatening to separate, and I found myself ni a situation, far from home with no human backup. Then two weeks before going home I brokeup with this person, and later found out that our relationship had actually ended ni a blazing flame of lies and betrayals.
Thankfully despite the fact that were do share some of the same friends we hardly see eachother except when fair sized party comes around, and Halloween is a tradition which has not been passed up for several years. Every Halloween I dread seeing this person.
The first year she was there, but I was plastered drunk, and showing off a newly acquired skill as I spun chains with glowsticks attached to them, on the roof of the neighbor. It is a miracle I didn’t fall off the three stories.
The second year, the Halloween party took place at my house, and whilst she didn’t show up out of respect for my space, even though I did not implicitly invite her, I suffered from the same heartwreaching stress. That evening we lost and Xbox, an Ipaq, and a digital camera. It was a bad year.
Now the last few days I’ve been fearing the same thing. Ive been attributing the stress to a combination of my medical condition taking longer to heal than I would like, combined with random arguments with my father, but thinking back on it I think the stress was probably there to being with and these inconvenciences just aggravated the situation rather than being the actual cause which I was depseratly trying to put to it.
That being said I forced myself to go to this gathering even though a large part of me didn’t want to. I may have brought some people down in the process with my horrible mood, but I guess I knew deep down that this was something I had to do. Sure enough she was there and for the first time in two years I went up and said hello. I gave the two kisses and made about a minute or two of random small talk. I guess that was my way of saying… I don’t know what I was trying to say. Maybe just that it’s ok. I’ve finally let go of my hate. But if I did why was I so anxious? And why after the hour that I spent, when I decided it was time to leave, when I said goodbye to her again in the same way I had said hello. Why do I suddenly feel better? I know I’ve accomplished something important, but I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it will come to me in time. In the mean while it feels good to feel relaxed again. Until next year. I hope I’ll feel better next time round.
I know those to threw the party are going to read this. I’m sorry I had you guys worried for me. I know my reaons for being weird are childish.. But all selfishness aside the evening was a productive one for me.
I’m not going to reread this. I’m not going to edit it or spell check. I’d rather leave this is in its natural state.
I lie of the floor trying to figure out exactly how I went from a three day long melancholy disposition to the beginnings of feeling better. Ive kept all of my wirtings up to now purely artistic, but that sort of thing isn’t satisfying enough for me to feel better sometimes when the mood hits me. I’ve kept from writing direct things about myself for fear of revealing certain aspects of myself which I am ashamed of. These are things which all human beings feel sometimes but I take it upon myself sometimes to conquer my emotions with logic and reason. I don’t like it sometimes when I get swept up by myself, and when I try and wirte about this it feels like I am reading the pathetic ramblings of an insecure teenager. I am in fact twnty five years of age and somewhat mature, at least I consider myself, for the amount of emotional experience I have felt. It is this constant expectations of myself to be able to conquer negativity through cold logic and indifference which makes it so hard sometimes. I’ve done things in the past which I am ashamed of. Rather I have dealt with certain situations in ways which, looking back made me feel childish. I suppose that when such childish emotions begin to take hold of me again I begin to hate myself for feeling a certain way, and as such nstead of trying to work my way thourhg it I’ve been repressing certain things from shame. This brings me down.
Being down is no crime. It hits everyone from time to time, and as such I feel no shame to tell people that im a little depressed. What is embarrassing to me is trying to admit to myself that the cause.
This is the third Halloween. About two and a half years ago I brokeup a relationship in which I had invested a great deal of emotional energy. The break came at a moment when I was already dealing with a great deal of stress. I was doing a boring internship at the Central bank of west Africa. The jobs sucked and I basically spent three months doing nothing. Not only that but I used to come home to an alcoholic mother with whom I used to have violent arguments. It was a very difficult time for me. My parents were threatening to separate, and I found myself ni a situation, far from home with no human backup. Then two weeks before going home I brokeup with this person, and later found out that our relationship had actually ended ni a blazing flame of lies and betrayals.
Thankfully despite the fact that were do share some of the same friends we hardly see eachother except when fair sized party comes around, and Halloween is a tradition which has not been passed up for several years. Every Halloween I dread seeing this person.
The first year she was there, but I was plastered drunk, and showing off a newly acquired skill as I spun chains with glowsticks attached to them, on the roof of the neighbor. It is a miracle I didn’t fall off the three stories.
The second year, the Halloween party took place at my house, and whilst she didn’t show up out of respect for my space, even though I did not implicitly invite her, I suffered from the same heartwreaching stress. That evening we lost and Xbox, an Ipaq, and a digital camera. It was a bad year.
Now the last few days I’ve been fearing the same thing. Ive been attributing the stress to a combination of my medical condition taking longer to heal than I would like, combined with random arguments with my father, but thinking back on it I think the stress was probably there to being with and these inconvenciences just aggravated the situation rather than being the actual cause which I was depseratly trying to put to it.
That being said I forced myself to go to this gathering even though a large part of me didn’t want to. I may have brought some people down in the process with my horrible mood, but I guess I knew deep down that this was something I had to do. Sure enough she was there and for the first time in two years I went up and said hello. I gave the two kisses and made about a minute or two of random small talk. I guess that was my way of saying… I don’t know what I was trying to say. Maybe just that it’s ok. I’ve finally let go of my hate. But if I did why was I so anxious? And why after the hour that I spent, when I decided it was time to leave, when I said goodbye to her again in the same way I had said hello. Why do I suddenly feel better? I know I’ve accomplished something important, but I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it will come to me in time. In the mean while it feels good to feel relaxed again. Until next year. I hope I’ll feel better next time round.
I know those to threw the party are going to read this. I’m sorry I had you guys worried for me. I know my reaons for being weird are childish.. But all selfishness aside the evening was a productive one for me.
I’m not going to reread this. I’m not going to edit it or spell check. I’d rather leave this is in its natural state.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Loosely coalesced droplets of water patter softly upon the surface of my cranium, gently massaging all the aches and pains within. A slight breeze cools the bitterness beneath the skin and calms it tenderly like a breath of fresh air re-instilling life into an asphyxiated personality. I do not attempt to fathom the objects which create the reality which I habitually interact with. No, my eyes are closed this evening, and I am all alone with the rain and cool airs. My lungs heave and release, just like the time before, and the time before that, but this time with recognition and symbolism that I had not noticed, or bothered to notice. I can feel liquid gently making its way in between the follicles of hair down my arms, down my chest, my back, my legs, my face. There is a great weight lifted, as if all the worries and troubles of the imperfect man are washed away from him. In a moment another great sigh as it pours off me into a pool at my feet. And in a moment, for just a moment, I can let go completely. It makes me think about how lightly I take my breath, my heartbeat, my shivers, the tiny itch in the bottom of my feet which is only a nuisance when I think about it, only for a few moments, and then it is gone again. It makes me think, how easily I lose sight of the undeniable truth. It is good to be alive right now, and forever. If God does exist I pray he never let me lose sight of this moment. Where everything in the world makes sense.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Inspire me o Lady of the Word! Allow me use of these thy gifts. Thy permission grant I plead. Homage to thee. Thou hast blessed the mortal man with pen, and paper, and keyboard. Thou hast given unto me sensitivity and life. Thou hast taught me love, and song, and desire. I plead unto thee madam inspiration to pay respects to thy divination. For with the words which thou hast granted me, I wish to make unto thee, a gift. And though these thoughts cannot unto thee do justice, I’ll do as best as I know how. And though I am incapable of depicting, exactly that which doth flow within me when feel the ecstasy, I’ll do as well as can be done with the very tools you instruct. And I pray thou dost accept my most profoundest admirations, for not a master of the art am I. But I do assure thee that all my being went out into it. And so I ask thee to guard that which I am about to give, a part of my soul. Cherish me, and I do give thee worship. So speak unto me o Muse! Fair maiden of dictation. Lay upon me use, thy everlasting inspiration,
Her name is Polyhymnia and She moves like grains upon the sands of perfection. Swaying in the wind like some gentle force of nature,
Upon some lost and lonely shore.
Undisturbed in silence,
Swimming softly to the beating heart of earth.
And as she passed to and fro,
All who behold her know
Peace.
She is the hope which Pandora did release.
She is the outlet,
The cure,
The means by which mortal man endures.
She brings respite to those who follow her,
The likes of which no mortal lover
Brings.
She is better than death.
She is release.
She is the most serene listener,
The soundest word,
The greatest love,
Desire,
Shoulder,
Friend,
Lover.
Her whispers have inspired passions in the most devout.
Her breath has robbed and bestowed the deepest romances,
The most bitter hatreds,
The most pure emotions.
Through her one can peer,
Deep within the darkest hearts,
And understand.
And with her one will jump,
And shout,
And laugh,
And dance,
And cry,
Without ever knowing why.
And yet ever elusive is she.
For not one to be caught is she.
Beyond the hopes and dreams of man,
Beyond imagination,
Beyond conceptualization,
Beyond that which man was made to grasp,
Beyond all we understand,
Beyond reality,
Beyond even me.
And yet,
I know her to exist,
In my mind her touch persists.
And I am scarred
Forevermore.
More elusive as is the questing beast,
Incapable of being caught,
For not even I can perceive her thought.
Though I may try,
With all my perfect imperfections.
I am blind unto her as a child staring hard unto the sun.
She exists not except within me.
And deep within my soul,
Close to my heart,
My mind,
Myself,
I’ll cherish her forevermore.
She is my light when there is darkness,
My darkness when there is too much light.
She is neither jealous nor demanding.
Granting only understanding,
And confusion.
I care not,
For what little glimpse I do perceive,
Doth suffice to drive nations unto madness.
I am her loyal servant,
And her lover,
And her brother.
She loves me in ways none other
Can.
For created her did I,
Just as she created me.
We are one and none.
We are bonded but apart,
But I exist and she does not.
I’ll spend the rest of my days seeking the most imperfect reflection in another’s eyes.
Her name is Polyhymnia and She moves like grains upon the sands of perfection. Swaying in the wind like some gentle force of nature,
Upon some lost and lonely shore.
Undisturbed in silence,
Swimming softly to the beating heart of earth.
And as she passed to and fro,
All who behold her know
Peace.
She is the hope which Pandora did release.
She is the outlet,
The cure,
The means by which mortal man endures.
She brings respite to those who follow her,
The likes of which no mortal lover
Brings.
She is better than death.
She is release.
She is the most serene listener,
The soundest word,
The greatest love,
Desire,
Shoulder,
Friend,
Lover.
Her whispers have inspired passions in the most devout.
Her breath has robbed and bestowed the deepest romances,
The most bitter hatreds,
The most pure emotions.
Through her one can peer,
Deep within the darkest hearts,
And understand.
And with her one will jump,
And shout,
And laugh,
And dance,
And cry,
Without ever knowing why.
And yet ever elusive is she.
For not one to be caught is she.
Beyond the hopes and dreams of man,
Beyond imagination,
Beyond conceptualization,
Beyond that which man was made to grasp,
Beyond all we understand,
Beyond reality,
Beyond even me.
And yet,
I know her to exist,
In my mind her touch persists.
And I am scarred
Forevermore.
More elusive as is the questing beast,
Incapable of being caught,
For not even I can perceive her thought.
Though I may try,
With all my perfect imperfections.
I am blind unto her as a child staring hard unto the sun.
She exists not except within me.
And deep within my soul,
Close to my heart,
My mind,
Myself,
I’ll cherish her forevermore.
She is my light when there is darkness,
My darkness when there is too much light.
She is neither jealous nor demanding.
Granting only understanding,
And confusion.
I care not,
For what little glimpse I do perceive,
Doth suffice to drive nations unto madness.
I am her loyal servant,
And her lover,
And her brother.
She loves me in ways none other
Can.
For created her did I,
Just as she created me.
We are one and none.
We are bonded but apart,
But I exist and she does not.
I’ll spend the rest of my days seeking the most imperfect reflection in another’s eyes.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Occasionally I think back on my old school in Zimbabwe and how much I hate it. The school was called St. George’s College, and it was an all boys school run by Jesuits. The system of education was old school, corporal punishment, copying 100 lines from the bible by hand. Your incentive to be good was punishment, not at all like the progressive reward systems.
My first impression came even before I actually moved to Zimbabwe. My parents had been down to scope out the place, and they went to visit the school. They told my parents politely that my brother and I would be better off attending the international school. We were furious but insistent. Eventually my parents had to ask a friend of the family in the Vatican to write a letter on our behalf. We got in.
The school uniform consisted of a both khaki shit and shorts, with a red and white tie, a red floppy hat and blazer. It was absolutely ridiculous but I wore it with pride and humor my first days of school. I was well received by the students since I passed myself off as the badass American boy from DC. No one called my bluff, and I instantly acquired respect. The teachers treated me like I didn’t speak their language. One even went so far as to suggest that we write to the examination board when exam time would come and inform them that they were going to grade an American student as if I was disadvantaged. Since they school heavily favored the jocks, the administration gave me a lot of shit for not trying out for sports. I seriously hated it.
The turn of the tide came when the school took two months off and sent us all off to do community service. I was sent to an elementary school for mentally handicapped children. I admit that at first I was very reluctant seeing as I had already completed community service at my old high school in the States. We brought the parents to plead my case, but the school refused to waver. And so I found myself every day working on restoring old computers which the school used to teach their kids. The computers were old and crappy but I put each one back into decent shape quickly. I installed games, played with the children, it was fun. At the end of the session we were asked to raise money for our respective organizations. In a brilliant scheme I took advantage of a school play taking place and set about selling soft drinks and snacks. We made more than any other group in the history of St. George’s College. Around that time I started getting a little more positive notice from the teachers. Those who had forced me to go gloated, but I was happy I’d done a good thing and had a good time.
The next two years was one victory after another. In academics I pwned. I made a buddy with whom I started a lucrative underground operation involving internet downloads. I had access to technology and know-how that no one else in the place did. We made quite a killing further enhancing our reputations amongst the student body. I went out a lot, partied, started smoking, threw parties in probably the largest house anyone I’ve ever known has lived in. I was king of the world there.
Now at the time things were going well. My grades were kicking ass so they gave me some slack about sports. Turns out their all American jock was turning into the nerdy brainiac with a social life and a reputation. However I had this friend who was less liked by the administration. In short they sent a note to the boy’s parents saying that mine and another kid’s parents had officially complained to the school about the behavior of a certain student. Naturally my friend was booted right out of the school and his parents pissed off at me. The matter was sorted out between us eventually, but he never truly recovered from the blow. Sure he was a slacker. He didn’t excel at sports or do particularly well academically. Now St. George’s College is an excellent institution which produces excellent boys. So because they couldn’t train him they banned him. I’ve never forgiven them.
I got my vengeance shortly thereafter when some friends of mine snuck into the school at night and poured two liters of potassium permanganate into the swimming pool. We turned the pool dark purple. Guess who they blamed. Only a foreigner could have had the balls to pull something like this. However I was the kid who was going to bring them three A’s at A-level, and they had no proof whatsoever. The school tried intimidating the culprits with lies about how they knew who had done it and would offer mercy if they stepped forward. No one did, and I had been home when it had happened. Booyah.
My friend and I eventually grew distant and to tell you the truth I don’t like him much anymore for different reasons I wont go into now. But the fact of the matter is that the school wasn’t interested in giving education. They were interested in money and reputation. All the words of the priests and people, the school which sent us all out for two months for the good of mankind did it for repute. It seriously hit my view on Catholicism and the Jesuit Order. I’m not saying that such people are bad people. Many of them have good intentions and do good things so I’m not going to judge people based on their religious choices. However I remain to this day disgusted at St. George’s and the lies.
Since then Zimbabwe has gone to shit. I don’t know if the school remains open. I don’t know what befell of the people there. I do know that some of my more favorite professors did get out. I also know that the people who hated me for being a foreigner before proving myself, and lied about my friend, got into shit with the government, because that is the nature of dictatorships. I feel truly bad. No one deserves what they are getting, even if the system was misguided and oppressive to the students.
I have a fantasy that some day I’ll be able to back to the school as I remember it with no troubles and none of the political turmoil. I’ll go right up to “Spacemonkey” one of the most despised members of the school and ask for a tour telling him that I am considering making a hefty donation. I’ll offer fags to those old enough to smoke, and openly humiliate the man in front of his students all with a couple hundred US dollars in my hand waving them at his face. In the end I’ll tell him that it was myself and a couple of buddies who engineered the best school prank, the school had ever seen. The money will go to some student I deem worthwhile and I’ll send him off to University somewhere good.
My daydreamings can be so very childish sometimes.
My first impression came even before I actually moved to Zimbabwe. My parents had been down to scope out the place, and they went to visit the school. They told my parents politely that my brother and I would be better off attending the international school. We were furious but insistent. Eventually my parents had to ask a friend of the family in the Vatican to write a letter on our behalf. We got in.
The school uniform consisted of a both khaki shit and shorts, with a red and white tie, a red floppy hat and blazer. It was absolutely ridiculous but I wore it with pride and humor my first days of school. I was well received by the students since I passed myself off as the badass American boy from DC. No one called my bluff, and I instantly acquired respect. The teachers treated me like I didn’t speak their language. One even went so far as to suggest that we write to the examination board when exam time would come and inform them that they were going to grade an American student as if I was disadvantaged. Since they school heavily favored the jocks, the administration gave me a lot of shit for not trying out for sports. I seriously hated it.
The turn of the tide came when the school took two months off and sent us all off to do community service. I was sent to an elementary school for mentally handicapped children. I admit that at first I was very reluctant seeing as I had already completed community service at my old high school in the States. We brought the parents to plead my case, but the school refused to waver. And so I found myself every day working on restoring old computers which the school used to teach their kids. The computers were old and crappy but I put each one back into decent shape quickly. I installed games, played with the children, it was fun. At the end of the session we were asked to raise money for our respective organizations. In a brilliant scheme I took advantage of a school play taking place and set about selling soft drinks and snacks. We made more than any other group in the history of St. George’s College. Around that time I started getting a little more positive notice from the teachers. Those who had forced me to go gloated, but I was happy I’d done a good thing and had a good time.
The next two years was one victory after another. In academics I pwned. I made a buddy with whom I started a lucrative underground operation involving internet downloads. I had access to technology and know-how that no one else in the place did. We made quite a killing further enhancing our reputations amongst the student body. I went out a lot, partied, started smoking, threw parties in probably the largest house anyone I’ve ever known has lived in. I was king of the world there.
Now at the time things were going well. My grades were kicking ass so they gave me some slack about sports. Turns out their all American jock was turning into the nerdy brainiac with a social life and a reputation. However I had this friend who was less liked by the administration. In short they sent a note to the boy’s parents saying that mine and another kid’s parents had officially complained to the school about the behavior of a certain student. Naturally my friend was booted right out of the school and his parents pissed off at me. The matter was sorted out between us eventually, but he never truly recovered from the blow. Sure he was a slacker. He didn’t excel at sports or do particularly well academically. Now St. George’s College is an excellent institution which produces excellent boys. So because they couldn’t train him they banned him. I’ve never forgiven them.
I got my vengeance shortly thereafter when some friends of mine snuck into the school at night and poured two liters of potassium permanganate into the swimming pool. We turned the pool dark purple. Guess who they blamed. Only a foreigner could have had the balls to pull something like this. However I was the kid who was going to bring them three A’s at A-level, and they had no proof whatsoever. The school tried intimidating the culprits with lies about how they knew who had done it and would offer mercy if they stepped forward. No one did, and I had been home when it had happened. Booyah.
My friend and I eventually grew distant and to tell you the truth I don’t like him much anymore for different reasons I wont go into now. But the fact of the matter is that the school wasn’t interested in giving education. They were interested in money and reputation. All the words of the priests and people, the school which sent us all out for two months for the good of mankind did it for repute. It seriously hit my view on Catholicism and the Jesuit Order. I’m not saying that such people are bad people. Many of them have good intentions and do good things so I’m not going to judge people based on their religious choices. However I remain to this day disgusted at St. George’s and the lies.
Since then Zimbabwe has gone to shit. I don’t know if the school remains open. I don’t know what befell of the people there. I do know that some of my more favorite professors did get out. I also know that the people who hated me for being a foreigner before proving myself, and lied about my friend, got into shit with the government, because that is the nature of dictatorships. I feel truly bad. No one deserves what they are getting, even if the system was misguided and oppressive to the students.
I have a fantasy that some day I’ll be able to back to the school as I remember it with no troubles and none of the political turmoil. I’ll go right up to “Spacemonkey” one of the most despised members of the school and ask for a tour telling him that I am considering making a hefty donation. I’ll offer fags to those old enough to smoke, and openly humiliate the man in front of his students all with a couple hundred US dollars in my hand waving them at his face. In the end I’ll tell him that it was myself and a couple of buddies who engineered the best school prank, the school had ever seen. The money will go to some student I deem worthwhile and I’ll send him off to University somewhere good.
My daydreamings can be so very childish sometimes.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Entering the hall of mirrors makes one reflect in many different patterns upon the iris. So many aspects of oneself are illustrated, that it is no wonder that the human mind is stretched to impossible limits in order to fathom it all. Perhaps one is not meant to understand all the distortions, images, allusions, allegories which encompass the human soul, reflected upon millions of looking glasses. However despite all the myriad of imperfections, modifications, and fat heads, one can be assured that there exists somewhere somehow a genuine article, which is the source of all these distorted representations. This metaphor is similar to the way people view you from an external perspective or better yet, the way you see yourself in the reflective eyes of those around you. It is difficult to peer directly into one’s own soul and more often than not it takes another imperfect mirror to illuminate what lies within the original… like a shadow shedding light on a dark corner. I believe that one of life’s eternal quests lies in finding those who’s reflections are clear enough to learn something about oneself. After all my own eyes, more often than not, reflect the most obscure images of me. As for the significance of the perfect mirror, I am not yet certain. In any case there is no such thing.
Some say that only in solitary reflection can one eventually find truth and enlightenment. I am of the opinion that such methods do not work in emotional matters of oneself. I am at the moment concerned with earthly carnal things which affect my life. I care not for the higher truths in the universe of things, simply because one can never be certain, of what will see when peering into a black hole. I prefer to redirect my attentions inward and ponder upon myself. Tis very egocentric it is, but as I perceive it, we are all the centers of our own universes.
And therefore since all the world’s a hall of mirrors and all the men and women merely looking glasses. I say wander and absorb. Discover yourself, and if you do, and do not like what you find, change it, rather than finding another more desirable reflection. You cannot run from the hall of mirrors for it surrounds us all. You either study it or ignore it. To run would lead one to exhaustion and despair
Some say that only in solitary reflection can one eventually find truth and enlightenment. I am of the opinion that such methods do not work in emotional matters of oneself. I am at the moment concerned with earthly carnal things which affect my life. I care not for the higher truths in the universe of things, simply because one can never be certain, of what will see when peering into a black hole. I prefer to redirect my attentions inward and ponder upon myself. Tis very egocentric it is, but as I perceive it, we are all the centers of our own universes.
And therefore since all the world’s a hall of mirrors and all the men and women merely looking glasses. I say wander and absorb. Discover yourself, and if you do, and do not like what you find, change it, rather than finding another more desirable reflection. You cannot run from the hall of mirrors for it surrounds us all. You either study it or ignore it. To run would lead one to exhaustion and despair
Monday, September 05, 2005
Late in the evenings before heading off to my rest is when I get most of my writing done, and where I spend most of my reflecting time. It is in these moments that my mind is free to wander about the random things in life, generally accompanied by my own personal soundtrack from my computer. Music is incredibly important to me. Right now I am listening to “Hit me Baby One More Time,” by Travis. It’s a great song. Makes me nostalgic a bit. My own piece of drama.
I think on the past, the present, the future. I think about loneliness and weather I really do feel alone despite the overwhelming amount of close friends I have. Despite the overwhelming amount of people who consider me close friends, neither jealous of those I also share myself with. I am supremely well surrounded, and yet there is little romance in my life at the moment. I might as well blame it on the ass, but I think that in large part I don’t want to be with someone for the sake of being with someone. My experience has shown that forcing leads to disastrous ends. Better to leave it to the magical science of chemistry. This is a topic I think very much on. I guess perhaps I just miss the attention. I don’t know.
I don’t know if I get very much accomplished during these sessions of self analysis. Most of that which I learn about myself is by analyzing my behavior, reactions in social situations as they are happening or based on other people’s observations. I learn most of life’s lessons by screwing up and then seeing someone make the same mistake. More often than not sense is only achieved when I begin to draw parallels.
I am very frustrated with my writings. I can’t seem to dialogue. I have been trying over the past several months to write out conversations between people. Any conversations, about anything. I am fully capable of relating descriptions, professions with my writings. I am a fair actor for one who has no experience. I can lie, like a champ, and make people see my side of things easily, but when it comes to exposing a point through dialogue I don’t know where to begin. It bugs me because eventually I’d like to write something meaningful. I have several ideas for potentially interesting plots, but I can’t seem to commit further than setting up the story.
I missed the Greenday concert because of my ass, which incidentally is more sore than usual. I have an uneasy feeling today that the doctor might have missed something with the last operation. I hope I am wrong. I can’t spend another 4 months of my life in a basement floor. I need to go out and do something now. I miss life so very much. I’m starting to hate my computer games. I am bored. I want to go back to the way things were before. I’ve been gimpy for 5 years over a stupid reason.
That’s it for now.
I think on the past, the present, the future. I think about loneliness and weather I really do feel alone despite the overwhelming amount of close friends I have. Despite the overwhelming amount of people who consider me close friends, neither jealous of those I also share myself with. I am supremely well surrounded, and yet there is little romance in my life at the moment. I might as well blame it on the ass, but I think that in large part I don’t want to be with someone for the sake of being with someone. My experience has shown that forcing leads to disastrous ends. Better to leave it to the magical science of chemistry. This is a topic I think very much on. I guess perhaps I just miss the attention. I don’t know.
I don’t know if I get very much accomplished during these sessions of self analysis. Most of that which I learn about myself is by analyzing my behavior, reactions in social situations as they are happening or based on other people’s observations. I learn most of life’s lessons by screwing up and then seeing someone make the same mistake. More often than not sense is only achieved when I begin to draw parallels.
I am very frustrated with my writings. I can’t seem to dialogue. I have been trying over the past several months to write out conversations between people. Any conversations, about anything. I am fully capable of relating descriptions, professions with my writings. I am a fair actor for one who has no experience. I can lie, like a champ, and make people see my side of things easily, but when it comes to exposing a point through dialogue I don’t know where to begin. It bugs me because eventually I’d like to write something meaningful. I have several ideas for potentially interesting plots, but I can’t seem to commit further than setting up the story.
I missed the Greenday concert because of my ass, which incidentally is more sore than usual. I have an uneasy feeling today that the doctor might have missed something with the last operation. I hope I am wrong. I can’t spend another 4 months of my life in a basement floor. I need to go out and do something now. I miss life so very much. I’m starting to hate my computer games. I am bored. I want to go back to the way things were before. I’ve been gimpy for 5 years over a stupid reason.
That’s it for now.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
And over here ladies and gentlemen I would like to interest you in the birthing of a new day. The smell of moisture is still thick in the air, undisturbed only by the errant animal, delicate breeze, random insect, lost drunkard returning home from an evening of heavy emotional suicide. I urge you all to silence, and to bask in the sense of peacefulness, the austerity of the nature around you. Don’t mind the asphalt, the lack of flora. The city itself has its own unique energy did you know? Close your eyes. Can you feel the sensation of millions of people simultaneous resting in anticipation of yet another day in their lives? My excitement is overwhelming. Right now is the most special part of the day because no one bothers to live this moment except in blissful ignorant slumber.
Ahh see the birds have begun their worship of the soon to be rising sun. In just moments the animals will rise and begin preparation for the coming energy. See the squirrels ripping open green garbage bags on the street, seeking breakfast? In but a few short hours, men will come and clean up the mess. The smell of fresh coffee will begin to fill the streets, and warm bread, and morning smells. Observe, they come just at the first crack of dawn. And now a buzz as the first automobile fires up, speeding through the empty streets. Is it not unique to hear only one engine raring in the midst of virtual silence?
Let us walk to the river. See the dewdrops glistening on the grass as the sun rises eastward? If you sit, you’ll get a bit wet but who cares right? Soon the sun’s warm rays will dry whatever your manufactured clothing absorbs. It’s quite alright. Now breath. You can almost smell the water from here. They say you can’t swim in it, but it is nevertheless beautiful as the sun bares its first expressions on the reflective surface, blinding you with its glory. It is quite lovely the moment where she appears in her fullness, washing away the cold, and dampness in your jeans. It’s too overwhelming for the human eye to absorb completely so you have to hide and cover your eyes a bit. Any who try and behold the fullness of her beauty are struck blind, for mortal man was never meant to understand all of her secrets. That’s a good lad, now try not to drool so much.
Look here comes the very first wave of feet pressing to the resurrection of the city. The dreams are beginning to end and preparations must be met in order to satisfy the coming events. See the man exiting his abode to fetch the news of the world, the thoughtful mother allowing her pet dog respite from urinary abstinence, the children yawning, alarm clocks ringing, last minute lovemaking, showers, clothing, breakfasts, defecations, tooth brushings, well wishing, last minute homework, car starting, day beginning. Are we not fascinating the way we can fill the void with all our dreams, disappointments, promises, lies, anguishes, accomplishments, violence, and love? Truly the collective consciousnesses are in themselves another overwhelming form of beauty, like the sun, too difficult to stare at, but amazing to behold.
Now sit down and stretch out your souls. All the energies beginning. Can you feel it? Can you feel the life? Can you feel her breath? She is alive you know. And you are as much a part of her as she is of you. You may be a small player in the grand scheme of things but without you she is not who she is. And besides, all play an equally important role in her eyes. So cherish her, and never let her die. Accept her as she accepts you. Love her, for she is your home.
Ahh see the birds have begun their worship of the soon to be rising sun. In just moments the animals will rise and begin preparation for the coming energy. See the squirrels ripping open green garbage bags on the street, seeking breakfast? In but a few short hours, men will come and clean up the mess. The smell of fresh coffee will begin to fill the streets, and warm bread, and morning smells. Observe, they come just at the first crack of dawn. And now a buzz as the first automobile fires up, speeding through the empty streets. Is it not unique to hear only one engine raring in the midst of virtual silence?
Let us walk to the river. See the dewdrops glistening on the grass as the sun rises eastward? If you sit, you’ll get a bit wet but who cares right? Soon the sun’s warm rays will dry whatever your manufactured clothing absorbs. It’s quite alright. Now breath. You can almost smell the water from here. They say you can’t swim in it, but it is nevertheless beautiful as the sun bares its first expressions on the reflective surface, blinding you with its glory. It is quite lovely the moment where she appears in her fullness, washing away the cold, and dampness in your jeans. It’s too overwhelming for the human eye to absorb completely so you have to hide and cover your eyes a bit. Any who try and behold the fullness of her beauty are struck blind, for mortal man was never meant to understand all of her secrets. That’s a good lad, now try not to drool so much.
Look here comes the very first wave of feet pressing to the resurrection of the city. The dreams are beginning to end and preparations must be met in order to satisfy the coming events. See the man exiting his abode to fetch the news of the world, the thoughtful mother allowing her pet dog respite from urinary abstinence, the children yawning, alarm clocks ringing, last minute lovemaking, showers, clothing, breakfasts, defecations, tooth brushings, well wishing, last minute homework, car starting, day beginning. Are we not fascinating the way we can fill the void with all our dreams, disappointments, promises, lies, anguishes, accomplishments, violence, and love? Truly the collective consciousnesses are in themselves another overwhelming form of beauty, like the sun, too difficult to stare at, but amazing to behold.
Now sit down and stretch out your souls. All the energies beginning. Can you feel it? Can you feel the life? Can you feel her breath? She is alive you know. And you are as much a part of her as she is of you. You may be a small player in the grand scheme of things but without you she is not who she is. And besides, all play an equally important role in her eyes. So cherish her, and never let her die. Accept her as she accepts you. Love her, for she is your home.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Witness watch
Behold, enjoy
View the thing which I perform
Feel the wet as I submerge
Sense the liquid penetrating
Everything
The wetness rises
Hold you breath
Pray for death
Immolation via water
Perforation of another
And soon
You breath
The substance seeps deep into the bowels of one’s being
Turning it to its own
Tainting
Dehydrating
If you shower too long your skin will pucker.
If you abide too long you’ll melt
And your eyes will stay that way forever
Absorb, bask, excatsize
The feeling filters everything
Throwing onto it an incontroversial bias
It brings nostalgia to all things
Be sure to eat lots of ice cream
Chocolate chip cookie dough
View old videos
Read letters of love long lost
Weep for the past upon dusty photographs
Take the air in a melodramatic tranceAnd drown yourself in it.
Behold, enjoy
View the thing which I perform
Feel the wet as I submerge
Sense the liquid penetrating
Everything
The wetness rises
Hold you breath
Pray for death
Immolation via water
Perforation of another
And soon
You breath
The substance seeps deep into the bowels of one’s being
Turning it to its own
Tainting
Dehydrating
If you shower too long your skin will pucker.
If you abide too long you’ll melt
And your eyes will stay that way forever
Absorb, bask, excatsize
The feeling filters everything
Throwing onto it an incontroversial bias
It brings nostalgia to all things
Be sure to eat lots of ice cream
Chocolate chip cookie dough
View old videos
Read letters of love long lost
Weep for the past upon dusty photographs
Take the air in a melodramatic tranceAnd drown yourself in it.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Nostalgia and regret are two of life’s most bitter opponents.
I have regrets.
I regret not having stayed friends with certain people, or rather allowing myself to become distant from certain elements of my past became I was ashamed. I miss certain feelings. I wonder what they are doing now. I beg forgiveness. It matters not.
I regret not having had certain foresight in some situations. Or rather not facing myself and the truths which I knew to be true but wasn’t ready to accept. I wish I had been more mature in some situations. It would have saved me, and many people who were in my entourage at the time, a certain amount of pain. I have made myself out to be an asshole in several situations due to my selfishness and my lack of foresight. I beg forgiveness. It matters not.
I regret women who offered to share themselves with me. Good people I liked, but was too intimidated to act on because I was naïve and frightened by what I might discover about myself. I wish I had been more brave and adventuresome. I wish I knew then what I now know. I wish I had had more tact in my refusals. I hurt people. I beg forgiveness. It matters not.
I regret not spending more time with my parents. I grew afraid when we began to drift apart and I have on some occasions been insensitive and judgmental. I have taken them for granted since they are always there and always be there. I assume too much. I beg forgiveness. It matters not.
I have put people who are close to me through useless immature drama and fits of naïve emotion. I have put mundane problems on the shoulders of people with issues far more important and real than my own. I have bored people, frustrated them, wasted their time, and been, by some, pushed away as a result. I beg forgiveness. It matters not.
I have become melodramatic again on occasion. I miss the past and fear the future. I have gimped my chances because I am too scared to act to save myself. I keep waiting for someone to dig me out of my pit. I am reluctant to do it myself. I beg forgiveness. It matters not.
However, in spite of all this I am learning, growing, shifting changing. I grow stronger every day, slowly steadily. I give thanks for this. It means the world to me.
I have regrets.
I regret not having stayed friends with certain people, or rather allowing myself to become distant from certain elements of my past became I was ashamed. I miss certain feelings. I wonder what they are doing now. I beg forgiveness. It matters not.
I regret not having had certain foresight in some situations. Or rather not facing myself and the truths which I knew to be true but wasn’t ready to accept. I wish I had been more mature in some situations. It would have saved me, and many people who were in my entourage at the time, a certain amount of pain. I have made myself out to be an asshole in several situations due to my selfishness and my lack of foresight. I beg forgiveness. It matters not.
I regret women who offered to share themselves with me. Good people I liked, but was too intimidated to act on because I was naïve and frightened by what I might discover about myself. I wish I had been more brave and adventuresome. I wish I knew then what I now know. I wish I had had more tact in my refusals. I hurt people. I beg forgiveness. It matters not.
I regret not spending more time with my parents. I grew afraid when we began to drift apart and I have on some occasions been insensitive and judgmental. I have taken them for granted since they are always there and always be there. I assume too much. I beg forgiveness. It matters not.
I have put people who are close to me through useless immature drama and fits of naïve emotion. I have put mundane problems on the shoulders of people with issues far more important and real than my own. I have bored people, frustrated them, wasted their time, and been, by some, pushed away as a result. I beg forgiveness. It matters not.
I have become melodramatic again on occasion. I miss the past and fear the future. I have gimped my chances because I am too scared to act to save myself. I keep waiting for someone to dig me out of my pit. I am reluctant to do it myself. I beg forgiveness. It matters not.
However, in spite of all this I am learning, growing, shifting changing. I grow stronger every day, slowly steadily. I give thanks for this. It means the world to me.
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