I don't feel good. Just like I knew that I would now.
Disenchantment is getting old.
I try to open it, but that lets in the cold.
I went along for the ride.
Miles before me, miles behind me. None of them calculated, or free.
I'm done waiting wanting wishing, I don't care why.
I'm tired.
I've had enough.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
just noticed
that I can choose to not let people's words make me feel anything less than beautiful
that I can't make you stop saying those words
that I don't know why you do but it doesn't matter
that it's not about you, it's about me
that your mouth saying those words hurts me.
that I have no idea what that means.
that I can't make you stop saying those words
that I don't know why you do but it doesn't matter
that it's not about you, it's about me
that your mouth saying those words hurts me.
that I have no idea what that means.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
'how can I be/a little more free'
I just realized I don't give a fuck anymore and I can't help but say how I feel. For real.
'and we talked like children without breathing'
My sleeping patterns have not made sense in 32 years and I am not sure that will ever change. It is magical outside right now. I saw something shoot through the sky and I don't know if it was a meteor or a shooting star or if they are different or the same and all I really know is that it had a tracer that lasted for what seemed like forever but really it could have been 1 second, but it was beautiful. I have spontaneously given up on going to bed at a decent hour though several attempts were made at saving myself. I stopped myself from drinking any more beer after the first one and some 4 non blondes, then janis, which was the kicker cuz who doesn't drink after singing janis. Well probably a lot of people don't but somehow I need to.. but I walked away even though it would have been a lot of random fun at that birthday party, then I go next door for a minute and instead of standing in the doorway and talking for 3 minutes I give up and chill on the deck with some wine cuz I can't resist the mutual dump of information that is necessary for our survival. And she had wine. And I just got tired of trying to resist things and be responsible because that's just not me all the time. So then I walk home and adham shaikh is playing in my ears and stormy summer wind is blowing and I see the shooting mass of light in the sky and the clouds form weird simple beauty and I just want to break out in dancing all along the street, but I've wanted to do that all day, and my whole life. Break out into a dance everywhere I go and when I can I do. I am so much better now. I remembered to be me who is very young, very wild, and very free. She wasn't here two years ago. Maybe longer. And I found out that the right discipline and structure and motivation is the true key to freedom, real freedom, and now I am learning how to do it. Summer nights are made for me to live in. I want to sleep under a tree. Right now.
Monday, August 15, 2011
1:12 am
I'm chaos with a pattern. I make laughter out of almost anything, only sometimes, not always. sometimes it's always. I make disasters out of beauty and sometimes it becomes even more beautiful. sometimes it's just more messy. sometimes messy is fun. I miss kissing. Or maybe I miss the way it feels, but who could possibly simply miss the physical act, I mean, really. I miss kissing like loneliness misses passion. something about summer nights has remained magical to me since the first time I could comprehend that feeling which may have been before I was born, but I'm not sure yet. I prefer my own company to many others. i have a love/hate relationship with anything that really matters to me. including myself. i would rather be me than you. any you. i'm good at it. even though I don't always know what I'm doing when I do it. I don't know why I am alternating capitalization and proper grammar and poeticism with not so proper and/or poetic but I can't seem to stop. who cares. expression is life. life is expression. sometimes I need to hide. I have a long history of chasing things or wanting things I can't have for one reason or another. It's beginning to tire me out. I want to know if I would still want it if I got it. Any of it. Just to see. because if I don't, at least I know that it's the chase I desire, nothing more. and then I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, though I foresee that being a significant issue. I don't know if I can fall in love. I truly don't. maybe I should just forget about it. like it's that easy. maybe it is. have i even tried? tried to forget, or fall in love? I think I've fallen before but I'm not sure. Shouldn't I know? That was a lie, I know I have fallen in love, but only with something I have created. and if anyone ever makes my whole being feel the way some things I have created make me feel, that will be falling in love. This started out much different than it's become. But so did I, really
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
this is not poetry and I am not calm
I came home with a vengeance today, ready to fight the world with words, yet I realized I would only be fighting with myself, struggling to express that which is killing me in a form I would be satisfied with, which is not an easy task, yet is the main driving force behind everything I do. Meaning my core being is not an easy task to conquer, though I don't know that I am something to be conquered. That metaphor/idea quite honestly could be the key to my problems, right there.
Problems. Right.. this is why I'm here. Trying to conquer myself. This will not be poetry, but I think I already was trying to say that. Besides for when I said it in the title.
(Do people wonder who even reads their blog? Am I just a self absorbed twit for thinking about it? Half of me is a sick little exhibitionist and feels an explicit need to flash you her most deepest dirty laundry barely dressed in poetry, and I have no idea why. Because I'm an 'artist'? Is that what all 'artists' feel? The other half would prefer my words go lose themselves in cybernothingness for the benefit of me venting. Either way here's my words and I mean them, if you've stumbled upon them, I guess you wanted to, or maybe you were supposed to, and it seems I will not be satisfied either way anyways, so I don't really need to know that you are here.)
Anyways. So I'm pissed off. And hurt and stuff. PLUS pissed off that I feel like I don't have the right to express my hurt and pissed off ness cuz really, I should be made of stone and never feel a thing, this is how shit works in my world. Feel and you shall be punished. Allow yourself to feel and be happy about it and WHAM! Heeeere's something you can feel-
first confusion, then hurt, then maybe some lack of understanding, emptiness, anger, throw a pinch of apathy in there, maybe some disillusionment, betrayal, disbelief, outrage, fucking bullshit heart break, there I said it, and endless amounts of other dark tragic bullshit feelings.
See? Feel all you want, there's no end to the multitudes of situations in your life that can be hijacked by all this shit at the very moment you might possibly maybe kinda a lil bit just fucking slightly feel ...happiness.... joy?... in something... ohbutyoucanwriteMUSICaboutthisnowisntthatwhatartistsTHRIVEontomakegoodstuff? ...Fuck right off.
Guess what? this fucking tattoo on my arm? It's supposed to represent the meeting of divinely created and inspired musical creation coming from my being at the same time as entering and living in a divinely blessed, two-whole-people-coming-together to make a union of love. Yeah. That's right, it doesn't just mean 'oh you love music how cute!' (Nor does it mean I'm a fucking unoriginal catty lil you know what who saw my tattoo on the arm of another girl musician in town and then proceeded to get the same damn thing tattooed on myself. But that's a whole other story of grrr that I may or may not get more pissed off about here sometime.) basically: I want to experience the reality of combining my life passion at a level of actual creation that is real, with an actual, real relationship (with a completely real in every and all senses of the word real, person) that I can sincerely say is fulfilling me/them and growing us.
SO THEREFORE.. I have no interest in fuckin SUFFERING for my art. It's not necessary and I want to know this for fact. so fuck off with the hey, every struggle is a lesson and makes you stronger and makes you have more to say through your art hallmark card cheezy ass motivational motherfuckin bullshit! I can be divinely inspired by so much that has nothing to do with yearning, wanting, needing, missing, wondering, confusion, frustration, unrequited desire, and played out heartbreak. Divine inspiration doesn't even come from the same place as any of that shit.
So if there is anyone out there, in my sphere of guides and/or angels, whatever in the hell is orchestrating this wild mess of bloom and crazy that I am.... please reprogram me to divine inspiration and real actual love.
I. AM. DONE. with anything else!!!!
On another note, not necessarily so unrelated I am sure.
To those of you who in the recent and not so recent past, have affected my life greatly in similar forms.
In the not so recent past,
there was a 'you' who had, in your way, slipped past checkpoints in my mind and or heart and or soul and or every damn thing, eventually. With the subtle grace of words that read me and make me laugh which if you know me in any fashion whatsoever, is the absolute thing I more than adore, drop me to the floor, it is the make or break in the do I like..no no, really really like this person. With natural ability to wander around the facets of a million pieces of life like it's nothing yet so something. You, slipping through checkpoints in my multidimensional being, over and over again yet then: you ever so swiftly snap every last connection made with the same intensity and effectiveness.
Basically.. here you are.. now you're gone. Oh, what's that? You were wondering where I went? Don't do that, oh and while you're down there wondering wtf just happened, just stay there, don't I look better from here?
Don't ask me to care, even if I act like I do now. I won't later, it's a trick. Or something.
And it's the 'or something' I used to get stuck on like choking on a big chunk of... bullshit, really.
I have now...finally... realized you are not capable of ever not breaking my heart even if you don't mean to.
So I let youinafairytale go, many many moons ago... and let you know you were a fuckin complete asshole to me. And you were.
So that bullshit, I do not accept now. From anyone..
(here's a completely different 'you' I'm gonna introduce. character number two.) especially from you, yeah, YOU.
There was no trick here, at least there shouldn't have been. Who brought the fuckin rabbit, and where the fuck is the hat. Seriously..I'm fuckin pissed at the fact that I can't even explain how pissed and yes.. HURT I am... yeah I feel shit like that! Wow!... anyways, where the bloody hell did you go?? and what makes it okay for you to just wander off into the metaphorical No-No land of no cell service where you also happen to go blind, deaf, mute and invisible and also forget where I live? I missed the memo I guess.. the one that would have warned me of the lost connection, and yeah, that's supposed to be a cheezy metaphor, because it's freaking true. I don't deserve that... am I retarded for thinking we were actually like.. for real friends? I actually feel like a grande supreme asshole for ever saying shit like 'I could totally count on him for anything like anytime I needed to' out fuckin loud, based on the sudden veer onto Apathetic Asshole Road you've seemed to take. Yeah I know you don't give a fuck about anything, blah blah fuck the world etc but that's not what I'm saying.. jesus christ, I am fighting with metaphorical 'you' here.. oh the irony. Anyways. I don't get it.. and most of all, I'm sad that I don't matter to you anymore, suddenly, do I even know what the hell is going on with you at this moment, no I couldn't even venture to guess, not even close (that sucks! it really does).... and I absolutely truly don't know why. And let's top that off with the Idontfeelcomfortableaskingyouwhatthehellhappenedcuzyoulljustsaynothing- flavored cherry....
That's as pathetic as I'm allowing myself to get in words right now... gotta put me back together before anyone notices that I care.. and I miss you. Yeah I do but... whatever.
What the fuck ever..
do I feel better
about ANY of this shit,
now that I full on ranted?
I don't know.
sigh.
Problems. Right.. this is why I'm here. Trying to conquer myself. This will not be poetry, but I think I already was trying to say that. Besides for when I said it in the title.
(Do people wonder who even reads their blog? Am I just a self absorbed twit for thinking about it? Half of me is a sick little exhibitionist and feels an explicit need to flash you her most deepest dirty laundry barely dressed in poetry, and I have no idea why. Because I'm an 'artist'? Is that what all 'artists' feel? The other half would prefer my words go lose themselves in cybernothingness for the benefit of me venting. Either way here's my words and I mean them, if you've stumbled upon them, I guess you wanted to, or maybe you were supposed to, and it seems I will not be satisfied either way anyways, so I don't really need to know that you are here.)
Anyways. So I'm pissed off. And hurt and stuff. PLUS pissed off that I feel like I don't have the right to express my hurt and pissed off ness cuz really, I should be made of stone and never feel a thing, this is how shit works in my world. Feel and you shall be punished. Allow yourself to feel and be happy about it and WHAM! Heeeere's something you can feel-
first confusion, then hurt, then maybe some lack of understanding, emptiness, anger, throw a pinch of apathy in there, maybe some disillusionment, betrayal, disbelief, outrage, fucking bullshit heart break, there I said it, and endless amounts of other dark tragic bullshit feelings.
See? Feel all you want, there's no end to the multitudes of situations in your life that can be hijacked by all this shit at the very moment you might possibly maybe kinda a lil bit just fucking slightly feel ...happiness.... joy?... in something... ohbutyoucanwriteMUSICaboutthisnowisntthatwhatartistsTHRIVEontomakegoodstuff? ...Fuck right off.
Guess what? this fucking tattoo on my arm? It's supposed to represent the meeting of divinely created and inspired musical creation coming from my being at the same time as entering and living in a divinely blessed, two-whole-people-coming-together to make a union of love. Yeah. That's right, it doesn't just mean 'oh you love music how cute!' (Nor does it mean I'm a fucking unoriginal catty lil you know what who saw my tattoo on the arm of another girl musician in town and then proceeded to get the same damn thing tattooed on myself. But that's a whole other story of grrr that I may or may not get more pissed off about here sometime.) basically: I want to experience the reality of combining my life passion at a level of actual creation that is real, with an actual, real relationship (with a completely real in every and all senses of the word real, person) that I can sincerely say is fulfilling me/them and growing us.
SO THEREFORE.. I have no interest in fuckin SUFFERING for my art. It's not necessary and I want to know this for fact. so fuck off with the hey, every struggle is a lesson and makes you stronger and makes you have more to say through your art hallmark card cheezy ass motivational motherfuckin bullshit! I can be divinely inspired by so much that has nothing to do with yearning, wanting, needing, missing, wondering, confusion, frustration, unrequited desire, and played out heartbreak. Divine inspiration doesn't even come from the same place as any of that shit.
So if there is anyone out there, in my sphere of guides and/or angels, whatever in the hell is orchestrating this wild mess of bloom and crazy that I am.... please reprogram me to divine inspiration and real actual love.
I. AM. DONE. with anything else!!!!
On another note, not necessarily so unrelated I am sure.
To those of you who in the recent and not so recent past, have affected my life greatly in similar forms.
In the not so recent past,
there was a 'you' who had, in your way, slipped past checkpoints in my mind and or heart and or soul and or every damn thing, eventually. With the subtle grace of words that read me and make me laugh which if you know me in any fashion whatsoever, is the absolute thing I more than adore, drop me to the floor, it is the make or break in the do I like..no no, really really like this person. With natural ability to wander around the facets of a million pieces of life like it's nothing yet so something. You, slipping through checkpoints in my multidimensional being, over and over again yet then: you ever so swiftly snap every last connection made with the same intensity and effectiveness.
Basically.. here you are.. now you're gone. Oh, what's that? You were wondering where I went? Don't do that, oh and while you're down there wondering wtf just happened, just stay there, don't I look better from here?
Don't ask me to care, even if I act like I do now. I won't later, it's a trick. Or something.
And it's the 'or something' I used to get stuck on like choking on a big chunk of... bullshit, really.
I have now...finally... realized you are not capable of ever not breaking my heart even if you don't mean to.
So I let youinafairytale go, many many moons ago... and let you know you were a fuckin complete asshole to me. And you were.
So that bullshit, I do not accept now. From anyone..
(here's a completely different 'you' I'm gonna introduce. character number two.) especially from you, yeah, YOU.
There was no trick here, at least there shouldn't have been. Who brought the fuckin rabbit, and where the fuck is the hat. Seriously..I'm fuckin pissed at the fact that I can't even explain how pissed and yes.. HURT I am... yeah I feel shit like that! Wow!... anyways, where the bloody hell did you go?? and what makes it okay for you to just wander off into the metaphorical No-No land of no cell service where you also happen to go blind, deaf, mute and invisible and also forget where I live? I missed the memo I guess.. the one that would have warned me of the lost connection, and yeah, that's supposed to be a cheezy metaphor, because it's freaking true. I don't deserve that... am I retarded for thinking we were actually like.. for real friends? I actually feel like a grande supreme asshole for ever saying shit like 'I could totally count on him for anything like anytime I needed to' out fuckin loud, based on the sudden veer onto Apathetic Asshole Road you've seemed to take. Yeah I know you don't give a fuck about anything, blah blah fuck the world etc but that's not what I'm saying.. jesus christ, I am fighting with metaphorical 'you' here.. oh the irony. Anyways. I don't get it.. and most of all, I'm sad that I don't matter to you anymore, suddenly, do I even know what the hell is going on with you at this moment, no I couldn't even venture to guess, not even close (that sucks! it really does).... and I absolutely truly don't know why. And let's top that off with the Idontfeelcomfortableaskingyouwhatthehellhappenedcuzyoulljustsaynothing- flavored cherry....
That's as pathetic as I'm allowing myself to get in words right now... gotta put me back together before anyone notices that I care.. and I miss you. Yeah I do but... whatever.
What the fuck ever..
do I feel better
about ANY of this shit,
now that I full on ranted?
I don't know.
sigh.
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