talking of Michaelangelo.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
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maddening capriciousness // 9:50 pm
"It's like asking somebody to swallow the sun."
E. Gilbert on creativity, hm...
Sometimes you look in the mirror and there are others present and you don't recognize yourself and the thought"Crap have I disappeared"... yes, yes.
You have disappeared, inside yourself.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
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// 11:19 pm
I honour the divinity that resides within me.
Friday, February 22, 2013
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with the lenses in your eyes // 9:29 am
You see a different colour.
The smells, senses and tastes are different.
Sometimes you open up a beautiful, beautiful thing,
but it turns sour and you turn sour with it...
but to another person, it's still a beautiful beautiful thing.
So don't ruin it.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
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helps me remember // 12:44 am
we hardly notice the feet first
when the toes are prunes, we always think
fingers first - they're closer to our face
and our brains
but our toes, they're a guise
the toes are prunes.
and the memory seizes me
the forever legs
a floating bird
the dishevelled damp hair
bit blood-shot, tired, selfless eyes
holding my gaze, probably
half cold, half warm
candlelight
cliche, it was all worth it
the pruned fingers that let mine
lay there
talking about the nothings
where the kisses should go
talking about the nothings
where the places are that we should go
and when
those moments of imperfection
they strike me and seize me and
overwhelms me
I indulge
in the imperfection how perfect it makes them the moments
I indulge
in the perfect it could have been and it helps me
remember and helps me hurt and think and
take it all in...
those good moments.
those good moments I will hold
until I can have them again.
how wordy,
I'm reading Murakami again.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
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distracting internet in the hours of procrastination // 2:50 am
"I'd rather sleep in a box like a bum on the street
than a fine feathered bed without your little cold feet"
- Guy Clarke, Magnolia Wind
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
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i have seen everyone now // 10:17 pm
and I think I can die.
I am not going to commit suicide.
This is not what it is.
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
I don't think I need to care about them
we are all stuck in the whirlwind vortex of eyes and eyes
that don't matter.
Nothing matters.
It's all in the perception
- and everyone is wrong.
We are all wrong.
I have seen everyone and everything and it is enough.
I can carry on and not care.
They have liberated me with an excuse
and though the excuse is no longer useful to me
I have been liberated because I no longer need it.
It was always a question, "Can I do this?"
But now it's just a glass of water half empty half full
and some people just don't really deeply care
so don't expect them to.
But I can be naked to all the world
and raw and free in this whole thing.
Let me just be happy now.
That is all I ask. I will ignore your eyes and eyes
and I will say my formulated phrase.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
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salsa dancing // 6:48 am
Fuck jet lag. It's screwing up my whole waking schedule.
I woke and saw words penetrating me from me forehead,
forcing its way into me like a current of chaotic thoughts....
and though I didn't fully remember thank goodness for the internet.
I quote the man on the bridge, Mr. Speed Levitch;
his monologue was particularly memorable.
“And so many think because Then happened, Now isn't
But didn't I mention the ongoing WOW is happening right NOW?
We are all co-authors of this dancing exuberance where even our inabilities are having a roast. We are the authors of ourselves, co-authoring a gigantic Dostoevsky novel, starring clowns.
This entire thing we’re involved with called the world,
is an opportunity to exhibit how exciting alienation can be. Life is a matter of a miracle that is collected over time by moments, flabbergasted to be in each other’s presence.
The world is an exam to see if we can rise into direct experience. Our eyesight is here as a test to see if we can see beyond it. Matter is here as a test for our curiosity. Doubt is here as an exam for our vitality.
...
An assumption develops that you can not understand life and live life simultaneously. I do not agree entirely, which is to say I do not exactly disagree.
I would say, that life understood is life lived. But the paradoxes bug me. And I can learn to love, and make love to the paradoxes that bug me. And on really romantic evenings of Self, I go salsa dancing with my confusion.
Before you drift off, don’t forget, which is to say remember.
Because remembering is so much more a psychotic activity than forgetting. Lorca, in that same poem, said that
the iguana will bite those who do not dream. And, as one realizes, that one is a dream-figure in another person’s dream: that is self-awareness!”
listen, now, in the silence to your own mind being blown, ha ha.
time to go do some remembering
Sunday, February 03, 2013
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frothing // 10:39 pm
Shit.
I've lost the good habit of watching people and making whimsy of them with colour and vibrancy. I've lost the touch of making them interesting. Instead, I look and I judge them. Has my whimsy and colour and vibrancy left me? I've stopped taking the subway, or I've stopped enjoying subway times. The colours pass me by.
I look down into my book and look down and have not looked up; up, the scenery is bleak. But I have made it bleak. It is with my own doing that the bleak, the Hyde is leaking out through the seams. Mine.
Frothing.
And what horrible thoughts!
What has happened to me!
Where did Miss Butterflies and Unicorns go? Or did she never exist, and only in some disillusioned hindsight-mind do I see that as the was of myself?
C'mon, don't let the monsters in, and certainly, don't let 'em out.
Fuck you! You don't know struggle. I'm a beautiful fucking mystery to you.
Damn, that's good.
