A monstrocity

I've said this several times about myself, but I somehow I seem to forget it, ignore it, pretend it's not there. I'm more fond of the idea of having forgotten since it relieves me from some guilt, although I'm certain it's the most inaccurate one of all the excuses for my negligence and the most detrimental at that much like when I "forget" to exfoliate my face.

I love ideas. I mean "love" in the full extent of the word. I really do.  Ideas don't die, they change and adjust. The same idea can emerge from different sources and that same idea can simple pop out of existence when those thinking of it cease to exist or forget. But if it's written down, it's as if it never left. I'm simply enthralled by that aspect of it. That't the end of my love for ideas.

Now, what happens when a picture is taken? The do the images record the meaning correctly? What if the idea is lost within the the notation of it? Can it be understood? Is it understood completely? What about writing? Is an illegible post-it any different from a well-formed essay if it can't understood? Does the idea still exist? And what of our memories? Are they patchworks we made?

Many times I find Post-Its on my desk with strange markings I assume must be my idle handwriting. No matter how I turn or view them, sometimes I can't figure out what they are supposed to remind me of; what they are meant to keep for me.It tends to happen that I'll get frustrated and put them aside. Then a few minutes later I'll spot something out of the corner of my eye: a shoe, a book, some paint laying around or perhaps I'll take a sip of water and it all comes back to me. The idea was never truly gone.

And when ideas don't leave me, when they are never gone, things become even messier and an illegible note. In my last year of high school I obsessively worked on the idea of Ophelia's last reach out of the water. I couldn't let it go. My work on the sculpture went as far as doing work on it during all my classes. I was so terribly engrossed in it. But when it was compete, I was happy and had no hair to speak of. However my grades took a dip and that was that.  

While my habits are problematic, they are not what concerns me. This morning I came to the realization I was infatuated with an ill-constructed perception. The idea was pieced together form events and occurrences that where rather pleasant, but so terribly incomplete.  I lucky have a rather cynical nature that takes care of most of dreams and aspirations. The thing is that takes time and this was birthed in short span of time, not enough gestation to kill off the malformation.

The cancerous idea grew and took shape of something I held dear; past tense. And shit got out of hand. For a period of almost two months, I would fall victim to the crippling grip of the monstrosity at regular intervals. I even convinced myself that I was fine when was not more fine than the woman that was abducted by King Kong. You know, sans the beautiful hair and flawless complexion.  

This time around there wasn't object around to remind me it was just an idea. I even had a Post-It with a date that was about it.The painting I had been working on made things worse until it's completion. And talking about it made only seemed to excise the part of it that was bothering me at the time. If only I had some airplanes flying around me attempting to shoot it down and a dashing hero to rescue me I would have still ended up where I am now, although a bit more interesting.

I love ideas and memories, and they are nothing more than that. The idea I constructed in about 4 months grew to change into something I had never been. I resent. I place a great deal of the blame on myself for various reasons and I rightful chuck the rest at that monstrosity's other contributor. The idea might be gone for now, but I don't have a single doubt it will come back in some shape or form. It'll never die. It'll just change.

A friend told me we learn from every thing that we go through, or maybe it was that I shouldn't read while walking on Broadway. Either way both are excellent pieces of advice I follow. Through this all I remembered what I always forget. I am human. Flawed in complexion and owner to head full of monstrosities and hair. I am hero tackling King Kong on his own right.

A Pact with HoneyBear

01. There are very deserving, warm, and amazing people who have touched our lives.

02. You can not always judge someone from initial guesses, but first impressions can sour you. This does not mean they are outright shitty people.

03. These feelings of brotherhood, sisterhood,companionship, and friendship, as much as we know of them and considering the faults with these feelings and the faults between people, are worthwhile investments.

04. We can not be without the formerly mentioned.

05. If something bothers you, you will make it known.

06. You have the right to feel discontent with life in what ever state it may be, but you do not have the right to wallow in it.

07. You have the right to swallow it all up and hold it together and you are not obliged to share the pain, if only if you are aware of the consequences.

08. When one person is depressed it spread. Being upset is inevitable, but it should not affect others.

09. We will not allow ourselves to be demoralizing to those around us and ourselves.

10. We shall improve ourselves, to benefit ourselves.
a. With regard and respect to our loved ones.

"Them"

They walk in twisted reality made of laughter, smiles, and grins.
The wind chimes softly in the background of every moment,
The sun shines a soft light on to every surface,
And at night the stars and the moon hum softly a melody of nothing.

They are unremarkable
They are unnoticeable
They are common place and mundane.
They are walking with emptiness.

And they have a need.
A most desperate need.
The desire everything.
They desire to drink the world.

And so as they drink,
It becomes twisted
And they inebriated with lust
And the violate themselves
And sodomize their existence
And find pleasure in breaking


And then they drink more
And the ground rots
And the walls burn
And they drink and drink until the world seeps from their mouths and spills over the ground
And ground of their world disappears
And the chiming in the wind stops
And the night no longer hum, but rather wails.

It's a savage thirst that goes unnoticed by no one.
They just pretend.

A bad day indeed

It was a bad day.

This morning I called my sperm donor of a father to confirm that I would see him in the afternoon to pick up money for textbooks. I was then told I am a worthless, lazy, waste of space leech that only serves to siphon money from is pocket.He forgot to mention I was also his son.

A nice serving of reality-my-dad-father-is-a-douche with my cereal.

In the early part of the afternoon I was informed that my financial aid would maybe arrive on the 8th, but it was not likely. The woman was older, greying and had tremors. She also was more interested in trying find her pen than explaining to me what was happening to my fin-aid. I left before she found her pen.

During my last class of the day, my professor assigned quite a lot of reading, which I can't do. So I waited after class to ask him if the library had a copy of the textbok I could borrow for an hour ( had done this for my Japanese class, the books have to be authorized for use by the professor.) At which point the very white man turned a shade of very dark red, much like a tomato but not quite, and proceeded to inform me that it was my fault for not buying the book a month ago when he sent out an email. When I told him I had no money or fin-aid to speak of, I was Indirectly informed it was my fault for being poor. He kept referring back to the email he sent as if it would somehow change something about my inability to purchase a textbook. Maybe if Steve Jobs had said it...


I think be fine, regardless of what happens. I'm going out to look for a job on Friday and Saturday. I can borrow the textbooks from classmates. I can buy e-book chapters I need. I started again jogging to relieve my stress.



I'm going to be fine, if I ever wake up from this fucking twisted nightmare.

Greatness

I want to be great.

I want to make them shut up.

I want to drown their voices out with success.

I want to mute the judgmental world with my greatness.

I want to be me with out a care to what might be said of my actions.

But Is Actually Are

Wanting So Achieving Falling

To Much Greatness Backward

Be Different When Into

Great From You Something

Made

Of

Dispair

Doubt

Misery

Anger

Frustration

Rage

Ire

I can only hope hit the surface that I don't go splat,

I can only hope that when I hit the surface I dont shatter into helpless shards,

I can only hope I won't fall beneath the surface and slowly drown,

All I know is that I will not die.

What is it?

It is a shattering window in the morning

It is a nearly burnt-out light bulb

It is a the dim light of of the sun

It is the brightness of the night sky

It is a wall of ear shattering silence

It is a burning forest that screams

It is a rose bud that whispers

It is the mute man singing

It is a leisurely stroll past the piles of forgotten hopes

It is a delicate waltz upon the broken aspirations

It is a simple walk down the halls of glorified memories

It is the nothing like unyielding stance I take.

Into the sky I fall

Dancing and twirling
The voice of strangers flooding the air
Clouds of thought floating
Sweet merriment, it tears.

Truth rains unto the masses
Countless umbrellas open in place
Under the woven ignorance
The layman creeps.

Through the curtains the sun seeps
Out of bed I slowly crawl
A rush of dancing a twirling greets
And into the sky I fall.