tail feathers Sometimes I wake up having been so far away that it takes me a while to reorient with this time and place. This morning, a single bird chirped away outside the window as if it were spring, calling me back from afar. It's fifteen degrees out there today, so what is that bird doing? Freezing off its little tail feathers, I bet.
confused I get so confused when I read so many online journals, and even more confused when I read the bloggers' profiles. So many people, all interacting. It's almost like (omg! gasp! it is!) society. Effectiveness is only an illusion. Life was far better when art happened to me instead of me creating it. Any place is the same as any other place, literally. Universality is a much better state of mind that focusing on trivial differences.
unknown How can I possibly describe the way the world both opens up and narrows down at the same time when she is near?
until now Charles Dickens led a double life, that of a famous author, and that of the secret lover of a lady friend. He kept these lives totally separate. I'm leading a double life--or, really, multiple lives, online. I am multiple personalities, none of which recognize the others (until now). We are not alone, but we are not visited by aliens from space. A presence exists among us that we do not realize we are.
vengeance is mine I am a metaphor for mental disturbance, as I mess around with others' karma, and my own; but I just want to help. He spilled the beans, and now he's got to be investigated, harassed, defamed, and discredited. We're wrong, internationally and domestically. The end is near. Crime proliferates and criminals are incorrigible.
another world When we cut down trees, we trap spiritual entities in wood like plants and animals become trapped in rock as fossils. Palpitations as I slept. I should stop drinking coffee, I think, half-awake. But it's my back, my sleep posture, I rationalize. People say what I think, and sometimes what I say that they can't have known about; or things I only believe, but never thought to say. Sometimes I talk to people who aren't really there. Sometimes these are dreams, but occasionally this happens in reality. It's scary.
assholes Mozilla, IE, and the Backstreet Boys. What do they have in common? Contrast and compare. I don't wanna be no schmuck. "You are an asshole. Why don't you just shut up?"
alienation Two Italian boys come into the pizza shop to ask for directions. They want to know where Azalea Drive is. I don't know. I don't want to talk to them, because they can't speak English. I feel embarrassed and pass them off to my fireman buddies, all of whom try to avoid them in the same way that I did. I feel sorry for the guys, who have to leave without any information, lost in a country whose language they do not understand. They probably chose the pizza shop with the idea that here people would be Italian. Now, years later, I could handle that situation well. I could communicate with them via gestures, ala charades, draw them a map, connect with them. I've advanced and developed, but sometimes I wonder if this is really true. Liberals may be praising him, but he only wants to do it to keep the cost of legal labor low.
again I'm falling in love with my bedroom again. Single-digit temperatures and the deepening winter are getting to me. Coffee is good for you again. Lewis Black pops an eyeball complaining about how experts flip-flop good/bad. I keep opening my mouth when I should be quiet. It's an old problem, with a new twist, being stupid in blogging comments.
schizoid doubt Should I strive to become one known and consistent identity or enable as separate beings multiple smaller identities I discover? Look out there at that world of marginally dysfunctional people. You can immediately spot those who do not choose to suffer. Mars landscapes and cosmic dust. We're really getting out there onto other specific worlds and into the vagaries of space, aren't we?
web-nazis Online clique-masters influence decisions re content, determining if it is acceptable to the cyber-world they're trying to control. If my ideas are not juvenile enough, nor p.c. enough, nor tolerant enough, nor... They're no different than... They're web-nazis. Adventitious mini-projects incorporate content designed to change my stalwart life, except I am so firmly set upon remaining what I am.
flame " '...assure success in every endeavor,' " or "...stop launching new missions and '...go to the caves and draw pictures of elephants.' " I know he didn't mean it this way, but isn't that a criticism of artists? Are modern artists any different, really, than cave painters? I feel like I'm writing on rock walls right now, cutting back on "more serious" stuff to blog. (Is that a flame of online artists?)
Valhalla Days pass. Nothing is accomplished. Only routine and token work.Where are the days when large insights dictated future plans? Dreams of climbing into the rafters, unable to enter Valhalla. "He's hit bottom and broken through to another bottom I know nothing about." I keep jabbing and digging at the bottom, but I can't break through. My bottom is hard and impenetrable. Top and bottom enclose me.
change I got a bug. Not a virus, unless mental viruses (virii?) exist.She does it so well, so naturally; she says it takes her a long time. Buzzbuzz inside my brain. How do I do it as well as she does? I approximate, but it's never quite good enough. Make it better. Buzzbuzzbuzz. Leave it alone. Go back to what you were doing. No! Change occurs through persistence in the face of frustration.
abortion "Who chooses these dogs?" If they did this to humans, it would be a clear case of classism. (No person who was well-off would allow it.) Zen detachment is a denial of life so that you can experience it in a more profound and freer way; an intentional separation. Sugar hangover, a massive withdrawal headache. But I'm free to abort all plans and go back to bed, which I do.
the party's over New Years' celebrations circle the globe. I circle my own life. The planet reversed tilt on its axis two weeks ago. I'm still tilting. The residue of scented candles and Celeste's perfume permeate my awakening brain. I sniff my memory-shirt. I'd change my life if I wanted to pay the price. This is the problem: Love is free, but life costs so much. |
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