Dr. Mechanic

I had to take the car to the Dr. today, Dr. Mechanic that is. It was somewhat unexpected; I woke up to find the little guy standing over a pool of its own fluid. I freaked a bit, though I was forewarned about the potential for this display of weakness, I wasn’t forewarned about the rapidity of the decline into the undesirable state.

It’s ironic that in a place were lubrication is of the utmost importance that they often want to screw you, the customer, without it. You’ll understand what I mean in the next minute. I was told that it would take 4Cs to fix my metallic feet; for the under educated 4Cs are 4 bills, almost half a grand, half a G. Due to 'sticker price shock' I decided to Google my way to a calmer emotional state, and started looking for the needed parts, and the need prices. It was NOT to my surprise that I did see lower prices; it is axiomatic that you feel as if standing naked with your toes around your fingers when in the presence of a mechanic. The dude was doing me dirty, or at least trying to. After confronting him on his arithmetic he backed off and threw out other more suitable options of pleasing numbers. Since I had to be in my cubicle, I had to let him slide, and leave my baby with his curious fingers.

Muscle Memory

I enjoyed giving into my weakness; I needed to like I need to breath. Similarly I didn’t have to think about it, it was all muscle memory, an automatic pulse that keeps life going. I am still defining the moment in my head, it’s a bit dreamy, succulent, but unwise. I ought to be more careful; cause recycling through the unwanted emotional thug of war is not something we were meant to do. I need to hide away.

Requiem For A Periodically Lost Friendship

Just the title/subject of this blog should suffice to bring added moisture to one’s eye. The departure of true friendship is never easy to swallow (my knowledge on this subject has grown exponentially over the past couple of months (see blog history)) both parties are usually left in turmoil, and lots of pain, that’s the natural thing about the break. The unnatural is the void that comes when thinking about the other love one; it is as if the memories to which this person was tied to never happened. You can’t reminisce peacefully about past times because it feels illegal to do so, it feels wrong, and causes great sadness. Disbelief is the other part that feels unnatural with the break; “how could he (she) do it, doesn’t he (she) feels the need that I feel, or see the potential for greatness that exist, doesn’t the friendship count, don’t I count, I can’t believe this”.

Dealing with the lost is not easy; you have to use every trick in your repertoire to yank yourself out of the grief. I’ve found it quiet useful to hide the hurt for a bit (denial), let it show for a bit (blog), wallow in it for a bit (depression), then analyze the good from it (go Zen), and forgetting about it (party). The length of time I spend in each phase is determined by a very complex formula that includes variables like my social environment, my state of happiness in comparison to other parts of my life, and current music playlist. I do all this while sticking to the routine of life (talk with freinds, breath in and out, eat), because the routine forces you not to give up. I repeat the cycle as needed until I consider myself cure.

Fin-ally

It’s hot in the office, quiet uncomfortable really; I wonder who dropped the ball on turning on the AC, I mean it’s only a binary choice. At any rate I’ve decided to have the party on the fifth of August. I’ve waited long enough for this house warming debauchery, two years is definitely too long. I’ll need some ideas on what to do, I am guessing a keg will be necessary, that’s just common sense when you leave down here; often the only way to escape is to dive in the bottle. I remember when Justin was about to puke in the car, and Samie managed to catch the discharge with both hands; that was something.

The Start

I am sort of numb, the whole affair is surreal, and how could it all happen so fast? That’s amazing; so many people are going to be disappointed. We will still be there for him though, that’s a given. I just hope that nobody in the group gets traumatized. It would be a shame if some were to just give up on the whole idea of marital union. I don’t think anyone could actually write a more interesting script.

Loopy

My version of love is changing as I am typing. I’ve only got so many roller coaster rides in me; I can only travel the known spectrum of emotion so many times. I am party to a potentially very destructive force, one that not only destroys my own sense of worth from the stand point of the standard clause of morality defined by the best selling book, but also may destroy/damage the foundation of a dear one. I am …

Beauty

“Never thought of it as such. Again, everything is a cycle, that’s why we, men/women, are attracted to that shape. The beginning becomes the end, so it makes sense that we should go back to that certain point in time when beauty was described as the totality”

Being beautiful is everlasting, that’s why it’s different from the others; pretty, cute, good looking, banging, handsome, nice, hot. These aforementioned adjectives fade with time; they become something less mostly due to physical laws (gravity, inertia, causality principle, time?). Beautiful, however, shines forever; you can’t argue it, and you can’t deny it. Therefore, it makes sense that the non-physical can more often be beautiful. Our actions aren’t subject to the torture that physics hands out. Hence, they can stay in all their glory forever, and continuously affecting the people they touched. That’s why everyone can be beautiful, because we all have the power to act upon others, and bring them untainted joy.

Puppet

My muse forces newness to pour out of me; the only negative aspect of our relationship is her timing. She only shows up when I am not well. She appears only when I am laying in my own vomit with the lukewarm feeling of it all over my face while staring up at the bottom of life’s shoe.

I remember the first time I met her back on the hills of north campus, I didn’t know how to welcome her. I was so green, so naïve, the interaction was blissful. The first time was the best; she had crawled into me, and made herself comfortable. She had, in all honesty, borrowed my birthday suit, and just like in the movie ‘Being John Malkovich’ she started using me like her puppet.

Sharks

The idea of strength is very simple; it’s just doing the harder thing. Coincidentally that’s usually the right thing too. I guess we, the people, did choose to make this harder for the pleasure of being strong. It’s like not taking the lifeline when it’s thrown to us by the pirates, but instead face the sharks.

You...I...we

Like the flesh that keeps this sack of liquid erect, you keep my mind upright, and enveloped. Every movement that my mind's muscles undertake finds you there embellishing it, encouraging it, and promoting its potential for success. Our dancing upon this lake of sweet is overwhelming at times, for the rhythm is greater than I; still, mystically, I find my feet under me at every turn. My perceived ability to triumph over the laws of gravity when engulfed in our mind's motion is possible solely because of our merger. You...I...we

Yesterday

Yesterday was really bad, yeah maybe the worst; I pray that it was cause that only means better ones are ahead. I really had forgotten how it felt to be so low, even though a year ago I wasn’t too far from the bottom rocks. The day was bad, cause I chose to listen to the saddest song on the 2046 soundtrack ‘Adagio’; I had it on repeat for five hours. I am a masochist, fuck. So, the productivity level during the work hours was particularly minor. The home front wasn’t much better, I got calls from people demanding that I be active, it’s ok, they don’t know I am feeling the way I am, so I had to ignore them some more. So, I stayed upstairs, and watched ‘Closer’, maybe not the smartest move, but hey, I am a masochist. So I stayed under the blankets, enjoying my doing, my own construction. Maybe it’s the demolition, yeah, my own demolition, so that I can witness the build up at some point in the future. Time went by, and then I played with my phone, erased some more numbers, and looked at all the names that were listed in the phonebook section, and took deliberate time to think about how I felt about each of these names, and the person they represented. It’s a highly therapeutic experience I highly recommend it. So after that, I put on the second season of Huff, kind of good, not as good as the first one though. Then sleep came.

2046

I saw the pictures and heard the sounds that make ‘2046’, again. The combination comes together so generously, and effortlessly that you don’t wonder about their separate existence, in unison they seems to have always been. The rhythm of the whole affair suits me so well that I am convinced that no sexier movie has ever been created. It’s like slow dancing with this girl who is the incarnation of your perfect best.

Voids

I kept pressing the snooze button this morning, I did so five or six times before actually calling on my feet to carry me to the bathroom; as usual, the floor was cold, unwelcoming, and demanded that I shift from side to side, like dancing on egg shells. Again, I didn’t dream last night, or if I did I couldn’t remember any of it. Maybe that’s why I spend so much of my awaken time dreaming about perfect possibilities; I don’t get enough dreamtime when I sleep. I am in a very awaken place right now, in my life I mean, my senses are completely on high alert, so much so that I can feel other people’s voids. Maybe it’s because of my own deprivation, something about birds of the same kind.

She..ll..be

Heart’s content

Met this fictional girl that shattered my version of reality, all of it was thrown into the wind. She had that everlasting quality of being attractive for multiple lifetimes- She was too much of me, cause just like me everything was done quickly and fiercely.

I wanted to write this down, while the feeling was still fresh in my bone marrow, I am smiling at myself and looking in the mirror and thinking that Karma’s got a sense of humor. The same way she had waltz her way in, she blew right back out, and just like a tornado she did damages that will reshape the land for-ever. This is amazingly funny-

Kind of alone and lonely at the same time for the first time in a very long time- Alone…Lonely… and I am not upset, I am ok, I am worried for what I can become

Self Destruction

Driving too fast on icy roads….

Drinking myself to oblivion…

D and D not the only thing both actions have in common, I am attached to both

Delayed manifestation of… or the actualization and enactment of…

The closest to it I’ve been to…

My life…

Red

I am going to get really cozy with the colors, couleurs, colores (‘damn immigrants’, the world is made up of migrators)- I am erasing the old stuff I had in the basement, writing over it with brand new perfection. Perfection I am thinking now, however, once the muscle masses decide to revolt against the monarch that is my brain, all notions of perfections will become relative to ‘good enough’. This impulsive act has been planned for fortnights of eons (I wonder if I can actually multiply time, whatever); the picture of MY faultless lair has danced in MY head on more occasions than I care to admit, and every time, a new piece of subtlety gets to see the light. It is high time (I’ll have to air out this thing so that I don’t actually ‘get high’) I move beyond the probable, and create the tangible.

Harder

Things just got harder, harrrderrrr!!! I was fine till she said nothing; nothing, I am really nothing. Her body felt punctuated too, as if an imposter had traveled through it; she had been rediscovered by some other. I fell like shit. I’ll be fine though, I hadn’t felt this in a while now, I’ll be fine though, I’ll be fine though, I’ll make it, I’ve made it before, I’ll be fine.

Vault

I guess I should open the vault and let things out, let the world witness the scary loot that resides inside of it, the variety of fears mating with the colonies of uncertainty, or the stark aloneness marinating in the boiling depression, or better yet the broken spirit, with the hemorrhaging soul.
That’s the consensus when it comes to my reluctance in showing how the destruction is affecting me. The method I’ve chosen to save the rest of me doesn’t please the masses, and I am being directed to give in, to let go, to open that vault.

De-attachment

Forcing yourself to close the gap between the ugliness that lays in you, and the dream you would like to be-

The amputation is highly necessary, and simultaneously, as painful as pulling one’s own tooth with dirty pliers. The infection is bound to happen, the healing will take years, and the scare that will serve as a permanent reminder will force the area to be less responsive to… everything.

Virtual insanity is no longer on the horizon; it is now at the door, begging to get in. It is begging like a new born infant needing the mom’s juice, begging like a wounded dog out in the storm, it is begging. You must be Heart-Less to ignore this infant/dog; you must have placed your ticker in a pawnshop, in some low place for you needed the funds at high time, and it, time, wasn’t on your side.