maybe we could be a family
And summer has officially begun. I still have no idea where I’ll be for the majority of it, but it looks like I’ve got another soy-filled summer in my future. Each day the painted turtle doesn’t get back to me, the farther away California dreamin’ seems to get. Now I’ve got a stomach ache and I’m sitting in my roommates inflatable bed, waiting for some kind of inspiration to hit.
Nope. It ain’t coming.
I wish this year had ended on a better note, but not only am I currently alone, but I feel isolated and hurt, and a little bit confused. Alone seems like such a temporary, small word in the most cases, but today it feels like this big looming presence that’s casting a big shadow over my mood. I literally feel alone, like a visceral feeling in my gut. Or perhaps that’s the stomach ache.
I thought writing this down would help, but all I’m doing is adding logs of bad metaphors to the fire. I hope this summer perks up. I hope I get back whatever sparkle I lost.
LOST: One sparkle.
Please return.
wherever you go, there you are…
I’m looking at my shoulders, and it’s not a pretty sight.
Between getting thrown on the ground several times a night for the past three weeks as a part of my role of hostage to Iranian terrorists (I was acting. Maybe you’ve heard of it), general clumsiness and residual bacne scars, I’ve come to the concise decision that tank-tops are not going to be an option for me this summer.
I’m poking at each of my wounds and scars right now trying to decide if they give off the air of rugged physicality, or if they’re giving off a more literal “air” of infected flesh. I’m hoping not the latter, because I’m having enough trouble getting a guy to look at me, the last thing I need is the stench of an infected rug burn to start cock-blocking me too. Goodness.
So, as you can tell, Summer is starting off just great for me. Let’s hope I get the call, and California beckons.
But then again, a summer in Cali with no tank-top privileges just doesn’t sound like that much fun at all…
i’ll gamble away my fright
I think there’s too much these days. “Too much what?” you ask? Just too much. I think the issue is as simple as that. It’s a frightening paradox of life that we’re constantly striving for more, when the real problem is all we have. We’re constantly told “less is more, less is more” but we’re just given more and more every day. Too much advice I say. Too much pressure to be successful, too much pressure to have, too much pressure to be pretty, too much pressure to be smart, too much pressure to be PC, too much pressure to have it all figured out, and you have to wonder eventually when it all just slows down or when you get a breather or if it ever just all stops. Stops. My writing isn’t narrative enough. It’s too explorative. Too much. Too much exploring? I felt the need to write, and this is all I have. All I have, and that’s certainly not too much, but I’m spent. I’m spent on writing, and sometimes I feel like I’ll never be able to write well, or be successful at it, and life just seems so much scarier than it did when real life was lightyears away from me. When did it all become too much?
Many the miles.
I find myself oddly nostalgic about London right now. I knew it would hit me later than the rest, but I think I’m only just now starting to feel the pangs of desire to just sit on the underground and watch London pass by from several feet under.
This is strange for me only because I find myself fairly content with the present.
No- that’s a lie.
I never find myself content with the present. In fact, like most people, I trudge through most of my days looking ahead towards the next hour. And after that you’re just forced to keep trudging until the hours finally give way to the next day. Where you can resume trudging.
I hate trudging. I hate the word, the feeling it gives me, but it’s also the perfect image for what I’m feeling right now. I feel like each step is a little too mucky, a little to difficult to even bother. With every step the reality of the present gets a little bit closer, and suddenly you’re just stuck, in the now, and you’ve forgotten whichever way you were going in the first place. It’s at these moments, I’m forced to ask myself: “What the fuck?”
How do I get out this?
I don’t think London felt like trudging. At least with perspective filtered through fond memories, it’s hard to see it that way. I was having a lot of sex in London, and now I haven’t had sex in more than four months.
Sex never feels like trudging. God.
you silently pushed into each wrong turn
Less and less people seem to care about this blog. Which is just fine by me, because it lessens up the pressure to write more often. It also makes me feel like I can write about whatever I want without offending any of the people who might be reading. I suppose this has been true all along, but now it feels just that much more tangible.
I hate Jews! and black people! and homosexuals!
Hope that shows up in a google search sometime soon. I can’t hardly wait.
fear breeds you
I’ve been thinking a lot about fear lately. Mostly because I am full of it. I’m bursting with it really.
If I were any more fragile right now I’d be made of meringue.
There are moments in your life when reality hits you so hard in the face, you have to take a step back and wonder why it would do something as awful as that. One of those moments where you ask yourself, “did that really happen? Did life really just bitchslap me in front of all of our friends at Kelly’s birthday party, and then just walk out of the room like everything is normal, and then pretend the next day like it doesn’t have anything to apologize for, and say that it isn’t even worth talking about?” I just had one of these moments.
It turns out, through a series of events that would not be interesting enough to outline here, that I am completely and unequivably fucked. I, at the tender of age of 21 have had a complete mid life crisis and suffered a startling loss of direction. I used to have a pretty firm grasp of my goals, my desires, what I wanted to get out of life, and how I was going to get there. Things seemed pretty clear, because I planned for them to happen, and I’d be damned if I’d let anything get me down.
Well, consider me damned. You can also consider me fucked up the ass, fisted and verbally abused while you’re at it.
This of course all comes back to that wonderful thing we call money. It’s no secret that my finances have always been in a sorry state. I never factored in being rich anywhere in my grand life plans before, because being comfortably poor has been the one constant in my life. In fact I can say that it’s definitely been one of the few facts of life that hasn’t let me down at some point. Well, not to deviate from the norm, money has once again stuck it’s big, fat fist up my ass.
(I apologize for the graphic gay talk. I just finished season one of Queer as Folk, and I now dream of a world where queer terminology just becomes something second nature and colloquial)
I’ve been sitting here for the past couple of minutes trying to come up with a more eloquent way of saying thing, but really the best image I can come up with that will adequately illustrate not only my emotional state right now, but also the situation as it stands now… I’m fucked.
I’ve been backed into a corner. A corner that includes taking a management position at family video and indefinitely putting off my dreams of being that kick ass twenty-something living it up in the city trying to make it as an artist. While the idiom “starving artist” has its charms, in my case the starving part may become a bit too literal to be healthy. I always had these big aspirations about struggling for a couple of years to pay the rent , then being discovered for my intense amount of talent and being able to live a comfortable life of noteriety and financial stability.
That’s not going to happen for a long time. Because dreams like that, dreams that big take time. They take focus and dedication, and more importantly they take people. Meeting lots of interesting people who can help facilitate your rise to the top. Working 60 hours a week in Kansas City for Family Video so I can pay off my staggering, dear I say paralyzing amount of debt won’t leave a lot of time. It won’t leave a lot of room for a life either. At least not the life that I ever thought I’d be living.
And without all that, I feel hopeless. I feel like for the first time in my life the luck has run out. I don’t think I can talk my way out of this, nor can I wait around for some kind of miracle to happen that’ll get me through. I’ve been a fool, and now life’s little lessons have finally caught up to me. And it ain’t pretty.
It took me a long time to be able to sit down and right about this. It took me a long time to sort out my feelings about the whole thing. I’m scared. I’m scared that I won’t be able to hack it. That everyone who’s ever thought I’d fail will be right, and I’m afraid more than anything that I’ll lose something about myself in the process. This is all, of course, fairly dramatic, and like a lot of things I’ve ever blogged about will serve as a milestone in my own self-absorption and will only be looked back on with scorn and a maybe a slight laugh on my part.
That’s what I’m hoping at least. I’m hoping that the mix of my defeatist attitude, and my alarmist nature have finally met cute and are looking at have one big life-sized baby called a stress related ulcer.
Let’s hope that at least doesn’t happen.
Rainstorm!
This is the inspiration for daily quotations.
daily quotations and t-shirts, and pretty much the basis for several friendships these days. I can’t even describe to you the power of this video.
I loved you so much just then
I feel like this semester is filled with greater moments. Moments that make me feel like I’m actually twenty-something and alive. Those moments where you realize life won’t get much better than it is right now, and someday when you’re thirty-something, these are the memories you’ll hold on to the tightest.
Sometimes I feel like I should probably write something less self-indulgent in here, something that everyone would want to read. I read other blogs and they talk of topics that would spark interest in almost anyone. I’m not exactly sure what this blog would spark in someone. I’m not sure it would really spark at all.
What should I talk about then? That’s the thing that’s hardest to figure out.
