stone cold sober grey

no tea makes for boring time.
no really... I feel so boring & uninspired. There's an episode of the Carebears this all reminds me of. The entire town turns grey & the Carebear cousins (who are infinetley cooler than the Carebears... I mean the Forest of Feelings fucking rocks, come on...) have to step in & save the day. Where is Bright Heart Raccoon where I need him? (And more importantly, will he bring a bong?) All of my creativity cannot be conjured through a glass pipe... can it?

different directions

like driftwood, far & distant
smooth & well worn
a thousand miles from home
...
there are so many things i've missed out on because i was going to the other way. & i wouldn't have it any other way.

future lament

i wish that i had a magical crystal ball. that i could know the future two hundred pages from now. if i knew the future, what would i do with said knowledge? would i change it? would i accept it? try to improve it? i just want to see how i would react. is it miserable? is it happy? there are so many questions because the future is something i'll never really know. never really have grasp on. they don't let me read the advance press copies anymore. not in this life. i'm not afraid of what secrets the future holds, i'm curious. curiosity has killed so many more cats than fear. i just want to skip ahead a few chapters...

of death & the color grey

death is all around & people welcome it into their homes
& it sort of scares me
& it's all so willingly
they pay for it, ask for it, beg for it
& it terrifies me
& it alienates me

i have never felt so lonely as when i feel "at one" with myself.
sometimes i am done with all the bipolarity of... everything.
no more black & white
instead
all shades of
grey

laughing goat

i need to start smoking a new kind of cigarettes. i should walk to the store & buy some right now, but that would just be too easy. going to choke this other half a pack down, should last me the night. going to the store is just what they want you to do.

most people would consider it a shitty night. autumn has crept in secretly & silently behind our backs. cold & rainy & death bringing. wet dead leaves cling to the ground all around me. i think it's nice out, although i must admit, if beer had the warming powers of hard liquor or the naked body of someone sleeping next to you i would indeed be out on my way to the store. it's not very far after all. and the weather is nice.
instead i am content just stay here. silent & solitary. smoking & drinking. writing & thinking. obsessing over the yellowing leaves. dreaming of going home.

isn't this what you always wanted? isn't this what you thought you needed? aren't you happy with this life. this special order. something you customized. when there is nothing higher up, it really is yours. fate in your own hands. your own destiny is your own fault. fault in america is such a dirty word though. with such dirty connotations. we love fault here. as long as it is never ours. faultfaultfaultfault. not mine! but really know, seriously now. this is all there is. your own special blend of reality. specialty. special just for you & me & the man in the corner in the grey hat who keeps making an uncomfortable amount of eye contact with me. and the bad blues from the man who looked just like his guitar. all spiraling around forever in this tiny segmented reality. my tiny segment of reality. perhaps. scared of inanimate objects imitating life... did he choose the guitar (or perhaps it chose him) & to answer that we'll never know.

pack all your bags, your notebooks, your uniball pens. it's hunting season...

certainly so

[alien's note:: this is an elaboration on the ramblings below, a conitinuation, sort of]
it comes with a sort of predetermination. a set of clear expectation. it makes it easy. it means you are not free. i cling to the labels, the catagories of society that i accept & embrace. want to make my own. already are my own. to discover there's an entire school of thought, already on your wavelength. already operating, & carving a niche for you to settle in & take a nice warm nap. we're talking safety & security. that sort of gestalt moment when everything falls into place. right before your very eyes. and it's all been done before. don't worry we're there for you, or you're all alone- which you prefer dear. it's all about you baby.
& my theory on somethings is this: the easiest way to bond with someone in an intentional or unintentional manner is to be unhappy in the same way. (whether spoken or unspoken) suffer the same trials & tribulations, share the same battle wounds. maybe that's why some marriages work. i don't know & i don't really care much about that subject. we're not really here to talk about that, you know?

certainly not

when you label yourself, define yourself, its invigorating. comforting. when others label you it's like a death sentence. stifling. i believe in self fulfilling prophecies. you become what you want to see or you become what they already see you as. reality is nothing more than shifting perceptions. you are nothing more than a product of your environment, of perception. you are certainly not free.

kitten leaves

i was born in the autumn. i was born in a time of dying. i became alive while everything around me died. it's a hard time for me. it's an interesting time. a time to be reborn. a time to reinvent. a time to die. i don't have anything else. so, i have the seasons. they come they go they affect me.
i love autumn in a way i can't explain. it's the only time i'm happy like this. the only time i'm sad. there's a joy in the death of the leaves. it's under my skin, it's in my blood.