November 2006 Archives

I'm one sexy motherfucker.

November 26, 2006. Yikes. It's 4:30 on a Sunday morning. I had the windows open up here all day and it is now freezitated in this giant open space. But I'm wearing new flannel pj's so it's okay.

Things went a little crazy a few weeks ago. Not only is there a new daily-living reality that is less than smiles, most of my long-held hopes for this house and my bank account when zippity dancing out of the window. I had been holding on dearly for March 2007 - in fact, it was this hope-clinging that made living here tolerable. Knowing that change was coming. But now change isn't coming, it's pretty much evaporated and things will mostly just be staying the same. Which makes me wonder this about myself: how will I continue with the one thing that was allowing me continue now gone? There are certain stories about my adult life as you well know, but perhaps of them all the overriding theme has been insanity inducing patience. Patience. If ever there was a man who embraced, nay - exuded, instant gratification it is I. But for all kinds of reasons and in all kinds of ways I have been forced to make decisions that delayed for great lengths of time my own satisfaction. For the most part I have made these decisions to endure extended holding pattern periods due to the value I placed on personal relationships and my determination to see situations through - to push myself and to show the world. The world always gets the last laugh. Each time I near the end of the waiting, just when all of the benefits and the payoff of having succeeded appear on the horizon...the rules change and the game ends. I can't tell you how fucking sick of this I am.

Sanity
We long to see you
Keep our ears down to the track
Honesty
Did we desert you?
Is the truth ever coming back?
Slightly episodic
Always on the run
Ever so neurotic
Still we have our fun
This is the time of the new sign
This is the sign of the new line
Time, this is the time
Time, this is the time
Revenge and fear
How can we heal you
With our heads down on the block?
Family
There is no curfew
In the town they call the rock
Ever so hypnotic
Underneath the gun
A little too erotic
How do we get things done?
This is the time of the new sign
This is the sign of the new line
Time, this is the time

Sometimes, I really feel like exploding.

really. i struggle with this, as is obvious i guess. parts of me want to just give it up, and i hate those parts of me. i won't. give it up. this is mine, and even when i'm not writing it still reflects what's going on with me. i can't not be represented here. and as gloriously awful as this place is, as fully everything/nothing as it is, terribly passe and fibberjibbets, i will hang on.

something about just throwing my words out into the ether. but my words only come back to me. the fact that no one anywhere is listening is so apropos and perfect.


maybe i'll go turn on a CD and play the drum set I'll never have.