Holes

I had to re-pierce my ears the other day. I wouldn't have imagined that after 7 years of continuous accessorizing, to remove my adornment for a week would lead me to such heights of pain.

Just goes to show that there is no permanence in this state of existence. . . .

right, right on

It seems I should prepare myself for the time when you choose to re-insert yourself into my realm of being, but something tells me that preparation most times proves futile so I might as well carry on.

somebody said let's keep on keeping on

moment no. 88888818

surprising to think: the difference between butter and margerine.

one of those 'what the fuck. . .?' or rather 'where the fuck?' sort of thoughts.
why indulge at all?

there is a need for knowledge - nonsensical as it may appear when it strikes, it remains undeniable: as long as i am living, i am learning.

perhaps a basic rendition of sanity will allow for the passage of time more freely . . . . and perhaps that brand of freedom is packaged in such a way as to be prohibitive to many wishing to purchase it.

currency
being
currently
misunderstood

. . .

i choose to gamble . . . . but let me first calculate.

does that still count?

Long Distance

I saw you today on the bus - thirty years into the future. I suppose I should possess a stronger reaction to the ever-present attraction.

You were looking . . . .

Still searching I see
(I smile).

I wish I could say I'll be there when you arrive, but then again I don't; we've already squandered so much time.

(laughing) Who am I to mind?

aloud

my desire leads me to disappointment, by way of expectation.

(but how to reconcile the need for water with the perceived thirst?)

i suppose a release into the Unknown - that which defines knowledge as it were - that presupposes desire and therefore delivers me the antidote.

antithesis?

theoretically?

rather practical it seems.

hear hear

yoga gem no. 753

The difference between nowhere and now here is only the positioning of the letters.

hands free

I've never ridden a two-person bicycle, but it sure looks interesting. The most I know about the mechanics is what I can figure out from sheer logic: the two people create more momentum than just one would, but with one person the bike would still be propelled - it would just be more to tow for the individual.

I saw these two people riding by tonight, in a great collective rhythm, having a conversation that wasn't strained by distance and issues of audibility. . . just riding along on that two-person wonder bike, making it look like a real good time.

Just a minute or so before I had been riding along on my own one-person version, working up the nerve to take my other hand off of the handle bar. I used to do this without any extra effort when I was a little one, but nowadays I can only get the one hand off and manage to keep riding along nice and smooth. But that second hand . . . . It lets go for about a second and a half before I know I'm about to go careening to the side and I instinctively re-attach my grip.

I'll eventually work my way up to it, but I didn't until just now think about what it would be like to try the same stunt on a two-person ride. I wonder if you'd have to give a heads up to your partner or if you could just let go and the journey would stay the same (given that they didn't have the same notion at the same instant)?

Or what if my basic assumption is incorrect altogether and both parties need at least one hand with a grip on the machine at all times?

I wonder if I'll have as many questions about the way it works once I actually ride one, or if I'll just know the answers from the feel of it?

Curious.

moment no. 36592746522

the stuff i'm made of or something of that sort seems to be what i'm inspired by today to act upon/call upon/muse upon if you will. . .

the great paradox of human (sentient?) existence: singularity being a given, yet the need for collectivity. need as perceived, perception being all there is.

but love. what of love?

what is love?

love is:
source
breath
fire
life
mean
raking
breath-taking
all-inclusive
a reminder
all-encompassing
unification
embracing
stability
insanity
love

peace and blessings abound my friends, and we are all bathed in glory at all times - let us not lose sight/hope/inspiration.

evidence of wonder exists within this great magic show we call living: here we are.

voila!

noise complaint

i play the drums and i have no job. . . .

but my neighbors do.

my-bad.

dialogue

Write something. The act is cathartic.

There - are you satisfied?

?

i wonder so many things all the time. i was once told that my curiosity is endearing. but in the same breath i was admonished for being excessively inquisitive (apparently answers can be distracting).

i wonder what it would be like to not wonder so much anymore.

quote no. 5673

"I have sex with my secretary. I have sex with my wife . . . . I even have sex with my sister-in-law. But with my researchers, never."

- uttered after an extended bout of maniacal laughter by big shot bad guy during interrogation scene in super-cool rotoscope animation sci-fi shoot 'em up flick Renaissance.

scream

There are always children screaming around this time of day. The elementary school nearby provides me with a multitude of shrieking reasons to get out of bed on days when my funemployment feels more like straight up laziness. Even though elsewhere people are eagerly counting down the hours left in the workday, and in cyberspace my inbox is steadily overflowing with unread messages, the children across the street are running, laughing and screaming themselves alive.

I can't stay in bed any longer when I hear them going off. And I'm by no means annoyed - I'm riddled with curiosity. When was the last time I squealed like that?! Did I ever make those high-pitched sounds when I was their age, going wild at recess . . . ? I had to, right . . . ? So how come I don't remember?

And why did I stop?

. . .

I'm going to scream right now.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Shit, man. That was amazing.

fuck fear

what are you afraid of?

well . . . ?

fuckit.

love musings no. 641

i love you to the moon and back.

does it even matter?

Blue, like the color.

A dear friend, one of the dearest I've ever known (and am likely to ever know), is in mourning. Most likely the weather doesn't help, but still . . . .

It's good to mourn when the feeling strikes. I think too many of us feel pressure (both internal and external) to 'snap out of it' and get back to the business of our routines, but that's bullshit in my opinion. Not to say that wallowing in sad feelings ad nauseam is highly productive, but still . . . .

I remember once about two years ago I didn't get out of bed. Just one day I woke up and decided that there really wasn't anything going on outside of under my covers that I cared to engage in. I don't recall feeling particularly melancholy either - I just made the decision (of course now in retrospect I realize there was definitely something more significant than an arbitrary decision taking place).

My mom peeked in a handful of times during the day - at first to shake her head at my sloth, but as the day progressed and the sun rose to it's full height and began to descend again, I remember noticing how her level of concern took on the inverse relationship. Finally, just as the streetlights were about to kick in, she said something.

"You're being weird."

But with her accent the last word came across more like wared (I love the sound of that word from her mouth).
-
Hells yes I was being weird. ANd . . . ?
-
She paused at my door longer than she had all day, still neither of us did anything. Instead we listened to the last stream of air from the last syllable she uttered dissipate into the ether. She closed the door.

I stayed in bed well into the evening, until a completely unannounced, surprisingly relentless craving for ice cream guided my hand to push back the covers, sit up and put my feet on the ground.

I was done.

I had mourned, and now I would gorge. Who did I harm? Aside from my lactose intolerant digestive system - no one.

. . .

Back to my friend, who's feeling a bit - you know. I think she gets it. She came over to my place and pretty soon after arriving, began to cry. Nothing overly affected, just a good old fashioned cry.

When she finished, she looked up at me all red-eyed and sniffly . . . and smiled.

Yeah, she gets it.