arionsrage

is that what you called tact?
Date: Dec 8th, 2005 9:55:27 pm - Subscribe


Tomorrow is the start of the gauntlet that is finals. I didn't learn a damn thing this semester. Except, that I'm really good when it comes to short term memory and studying the night before a test.

I think so much of life is wasted in school. I don't necessarily disagree with going to school, just that most everybody learns nothing from it. The only thing I remember from high school, is wishing I wasn't there.

Some days I wish I was an old greasy auto mechanic, smoking two packs a day. I'd spend my nights listening to frou frou and phish before I went to sleep. I'd have the flexibility of schedule to entertain such fantasies as traveling to some remote place in the Swedish alps. I'd climb up onto of a mountain there, who's name I couldn't pronounce, and scream like they did in garden state. I would stand there, short of breath with my eyes closed, and not wonder what life could have been.

Instead, I have to study for the next two hours.

And just so you know, feel free to raid hell between the hours of 9 a.m. to 11 a.m. The devil will be out of town. She will be administering the coma 1301.01 final in room 110.

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sleep now, in the fire
Date: Nov 18th, 2005 10:41:46 pm - Subscribe


i've been trying to help these days move along as quickly as possible. but what i'm trying to get to, i don't know.

i don't sleep well at night. i constantly force my mind to be at a state of alertness, which really fucking sucks because i don't know how to turn it off. i say that now, but tonight i'll probably go past rem and into a coma.

i don't think theres a race of people more ready to argue than christians. nor is there a group more ready to tell you their opinion, and why it is biblically correct, as well as why it is also god's opinion. maybe it's coincidence that their ideas and opinions coincide perfectly with god's.

or maybe their halo is a little too tight around their heads.

i'm thinking about learning swahili and moving to africa.

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your flattery is truly not becoming me
Date: Oct 30th, 2005 10:43:25 am - Subscribe
Mood: homesick


i woke up saturday morning with a call from my mom. she told me she was on her way to my apartment, which is not exactly down the street from her house. she told me the main reason that she was coming over was because she was afraid that i wasn't eating as i should be.

i've been away from home for three years now. i can only think of one other time she has ever driven out to see me, for much of the same reason.

she brought enough food for me to eat for a week. and much to my happiness, it was real food. much to my dislike, it would require more preparation than sticking it in the microwave.

after a meal that a hobbit from the lord of the rings would have been full from, and after a long and heart felt talk with my mom, i felt a lot better. whether or not her "mother sense" was tingling, or it was pure coincidence, she ended up curing whatever was wrong with my head.

in no way do i deserve that sort of unconditional love, especially from someone that i've completely shut out for the past several years. a parent's love for its child is the hope of life, when all life has left the child.

or it is the black hole inside the child where life is sucked away.


i'm going to start a tradition on friday, saturday and sunday mornings. i'm gonna open the blinds the night before, so that i wake up by the natural light of the sun. then fix a cup of coffee, read newly updated sci fi/fantasy stories from elfwood, and work through a couple chapters in a book.
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ahh
Date: Oct 28th, 2005 5:39:03 pm - Subscribe


is consuming me
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ahh
Date: Oct 28th, 2005 2:48:46 pm - Subscribe


self pity
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funeral for a friend
Date: Oct 22nd, 2005 6:29:55 pm - Subscribe


if i could, i would come back as:

1. a writer, singer, and artist. excelling in the only true, and pure forms of communication

2. a woodsman, who lives in a log cabin over looking a forest untapped, and uncorrupted by "civilization".

3. a bounty hunter on a spaceship, ever working to eek his way through life. and of course enjoying a drink and a smoke as often as possible. along with a good woman.

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waste of paint
Date: Oct 13th, 2005 9:59:38 am - Subscribe


I have a friend, he is made mostly of pain. He wakes up, drives to work, and then straight back home again. He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper.

I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover. And I tried to tell him he had a sense of color and composition so magnificent. And he said "Thank you, please but your flattery is truly not becoming me.
Your eyes are poor. You are blind. You see, no beauty could have come from me.
I am a waste of breath, of space, of time."

I knew a woman, she was dignified and true. Her love for her man was one of her many virtues. Until one day, she found out that he had lied and decided the rest of her life, from that point on would be a lie. But she was grateful for everything that had happened. And she was anxious for all that would come next. But then she wept.
What did you expect? In that big, old house with all those cars she kept. "Oh!" and "such is life," she often said. With one day leading her to the next, you get a little closer to your death, which was fine with her.

She never got upset and with all the days she may have left, she would never clean another mess or fold his shirts or look her best. She was free to waste away alone.

Last night, my brother he got drunk and drove. And this cop pulled him off to the side of the road. And he said, "Officer! Officer! You have got the wrong man. No, no, I'm a student of medicine, the son of a banker, you don't understand!" The cop said, "No one got hurt, you should be thankful. And you carelessness, it is something awful. And no, I can't just let you go. And though your father's name is known, your decisions are yours alone. You are nothing but a stepping stone on a path to debt, to loss, to shame."

The last few months I have been living with this couple. Yeah, you know, the kind that buy everything in doubles. They fit together, like a puzzle. I love their love and I am thankful that someone actually receives the prize that was promised by all those fairy tales that drugged us. And they still do me. I'm sick, lonely, no laurel tree, just green envy.

Will my number come up eventually? Like Love is some kind of lottery, where you can scratch and see what is underneath. It's "Sorry", just one cherry, "Play Again." Get lucky.

So I have been hanging out down by the train's depot. No, I don't ride. I just sit and watch the people there. They remind me of wind up cars in motion. The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions.
And I want to scream out that it is all nonsense. And that their lives are one track, and can't they see how it is all pointless?

But then, my knees give under me. My head feels weak and suddenly it is clear to see that it is not them but me, who has lost my self-identity. As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my poetry, like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal ideology that no one can hope to achieve. And I am never real; it is just a sketch of me. And everything I have is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time.

Sometimes I park my car down my the cathedral, where floodlights point up at the steeples. Choir practice is filling up with people. I hear the sound escaping as an echo. Sloping off the ceiling at an angle. When voices blend they sound like angels.
I hope there is still some room left in the middle. But when I lift my voice up now to reach them. The range is too high, way up in heaven.

So I hold my tongue, forget the song, tie my shoe and start walking off. And try to just keep moving on, with my broken heart and my absent God and I have no faith but it is all I want, to be loved and believe in my soul, in my soul...
Comments: (2)

moonshot
Date: Oct 8th, 2005 6:57:50 am - Subscribe


i usually don't support these kinds of things, but this one was fun.



what's your cowboy bebop theme song?
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my internet sucks!
Date: Oct 2nd, 2005 8:29:32 pm - Subscribe
Mood: destructive


if you have the chance to go wireless, don't.

why does a box of soap make you want to talk a lot?

who was the first person to go, "what if i shoved my tongue ring through my penis, and left it there!"

who the fuck has taken some of my books from my book alter?

who was the first person to stick up their middle finger and apply the connotation "fuck you" with it?

what was it like when the finger incident happened?

"i'm so mad at you, this finger is going in the air!"


my dreams are still interesting. the latest included:

a dog that ate a tennis ball, and then pooped something awful

incubus in a battle of the bands in a crappy grass setting

a really confusing mall


right before i die, instead of seeing a ring, i think i'm going to see my laptop screen.


told the angels can't stay in heave
i asked the devil...

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i\'m watching lord of the rings right now
Date: Sep 27th, 2005 7:38:08 pm - Subscribe
Mood: stormy


i bite my tongue
every time you come around
because blood in my mouth beats
blood on the ground
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