why is it so hard to escape this reality?

it's time to be prolific
leave it all behind
burn the elements of life

remembering to be forgotten

I regret tomorrow more than yesterday.

moving in retrospect

let it rain

how odd.. i just ate some cereal with raisins that taste like aluminum.. what is more odd is that i like the taste of aluminum.

eating too much nuttella..

bury me as deep as u can..
as deep as the hole i dug..
so deep that i meet myself once more
in spirit.

lost in someone elses thoughts

Falling steadfast.. yet ever so slowly..
clearing clouds.. only to find new ones enveloping..
unsure if its a descending ascent towards truth.

Voices leaking from a bag of whispers..
Catching handfulls of air.. short breaths.. holding hands
Voices sailing outwards.. spreading.. catching.
Slowing to a crawl..

Hovering in clouds.. weightless.
White blending into grey..
Bordered by racing halos
desperately searching for
a soul.

Faint whistles whirling through hollow veins..
Feet heavy with blood..
Slowly slowly...

cloudwalking.

slowly gravitating towards night,
night after night,
inevitably meeting last night
or a night before..
every shade indistinguishable
from the other.

patience,
a pain endured.

Relief..
No longer counting drops,
A slow stream finally arrives,
Shimmering with reflections of a
thousand mile journey.
Reflections of questions
to answers bobbing in the
slower stream of time.
Reflections of an unknown
that had been expected,
Shifting to neutral..
resting on water..
following the current.
Thin and weak,
finally flowing,
for now confined to
soft echoes in a deep well.

An unknown title of an unknown book…
Resting upon a dusty shelf,
Spine outward, with no apparent author…
Written of the same ink… bound by the same glue…

Words introduced, names exchanged, the beginning of a beginning.
A beginning soon forgotten, volumes from an end.
A beginning buried beneath chapters of blinding white snow,
twenty sheets of pure ice,
twenty wordless years.
Growing more and more blank pages,
each year growing fatter with emptiness.
It was a book firmly closed.

Closed until opened.
Slipping off the shelf..
Falling through itself..
Shaking off decades of dust.
Shaking in awe, as its corners cut through the air.
Pages breathing the wind, free as a fluttering dove.
Crashing open… lying on its back..
A unique smell of age released… proof of life.

Easterly winds blowing…
Pushing up the twenty first page…
An invisible hand, dips deep in an inky well…
Words… a quick trickle,
followed by a gushing stream of sentences.
Words, racing down the page..
Front and back savouring every drop sliding down..
Each side blind to the other… the only clue,
a few periods poking through.

Blindness soon blinded by the sun.
Words finally seeing both sides…
A page erect and illuminated…
Everything in perfect order.
For a moment everything clear.
Everything transparent.
Seeing, feeling, believing..
two became one.

With every sun, there is a set.
Words, losing sight of one another…
Turning, spinning, contorting,
Finding none other than their own.
Restless words wrestling
in cages of uncertainty.
Letters consuming one another,
spelling unspeakable feelings.
Pockets of resistance, solitary sentences unsure of
the true nature of their words.. Yet too afraid to spell the opposite.
Under attack by synonyms of confinement, madness, and desperation.
Somewhere in the darkness lie the letters of truth and honesty burying a hole on both sides.

Praying for another sunrise.
Chasing moonlight away..
Hopefully holding on to more than a dream.
Twenty one chapters, or more?

Nothing else,
everything reduced to one,
everything painted black,
everything perfect,
morning light peeking,
sliding through blinds,
colouring a face,
splashing hues of light blues,
beauty beyond words,
a perfect painting,
heaven framed in hell.

endless desperate conversations with no one going nowhere..
doubts debating dates, desires, destinies..
reluctance tightly clutching every farewell..
lost air, lost vision, lost horizons..

i need to just breathe.

time for space. space and time.

time for spinning, time to burn. time to orbit, space to pass. space for a universe.. maybe not enough for me. time to wait.. time for gravity to decide.. time for space..

full to the core.. pulling.. closer and closer, nothing but space.. time to give it back..

confusion

Fields of images painting a utopian world, vivid voices slipping into my porous thoughts.. textures, tastes, and smells working up a tattered soul searching for what had little time to harvest.. Trying to feel the shape of a feeling as it fumbled in darkness... doubting whether it's possible to find anything if it is nothing without it.. hoping one day the distance will disappear and disolve between a returning warmth.. waiting for the next crossing.. what truth can be found in a broken world?

Missing.. Warm ashes itching under my skin, vivid reminders of a recent blaze.. Deep felt gashes bleeding piles of ashes under brittle bones of wood broken by distant boots of irony.. all is quiet.

Minute by minute.. feeling it.. multiplying madness, inhaling silence.. breeding empty spaces... heavier than ever. Digesting a broken world..searching for a lost world.

Lost in other days.. lost down other ways.. missing.

the book must be overdue

i don't think i have much time left

time to read a book

Happy Birthday Looney Mun!!

.. out of the shower it comes.. birds are now the silence, along my window the future slows to a drop.. bumper to bumper with the present.. branching into thin streaks.. rain lanes patiently waiting for another drop to push through.. racing each other to their torrid termination .. tightly one drop clings to the glass.. it clings to another time, another place. Snaking through the branches.. trailing down the tendrils.. finding it ...finding a warm sunny day..

rolling down old south.. striking a path through the desert.. leaving everything behind.. leaking thoughts through the tires of my trusty bmx.. Melting with joy under fire.. digging for quartz in the seabed.. combing tangled cacti.. snoozing with scorpions, snakes, and dusty dates...never forgetting how to forget everything .. soon i will see you again.. we will bake together..

one drop of you will sustain a lifetime.

backspacing into the future.. eating letters.. words.. delicious verbs.. bridging periods with periods.. cutting dashes with slashes.. translating it all away.. filtering all through the same word.. waiting for a period to permeate.. All this time.. brewing a broth with it as a loss....nevermind i would say... along the way .. along the way..

backspacing into your letters.. convinced you were there, right before i stare.. leaving your vowels behind.. spitting them out, one by one.. ragged and dusty..only good for my melancholic melody. Where ever there may be air, wherever there may be words small enough to whisper you away.. remember ..i'm transliterating you into my language.. elucidating you into every word.. every letter.. every period.

backspacing into the Gulf of Veils, slowing and slowing.. trails of velvet veils..waving me through a veil of trails, blowing in gales swimming through the sky... clothing the sun..tucking it into the universe.. leaving starry eyed periods for light.. beacons and bookends to cloaked words, every third of a third.. dividing me away from you.

Here I am, spelling your name without a clue how to join the lines, curve the bends, or dot the i's. Illiterately writing words into drawings.. scribbling you into obscurity over and over again. damaged. I can't spell you. You have no name, you are no one, hopefully one day you will be me.

...incase u havent heard.. Shaqalaka has updated his blog!!!!

...maybe there is nothing to realize.. I'll never know, with certainty, if I always know when I'm wrong. Perhaps I dont know myself that well.. I've found it.. understood it.. come to terms with it (I think).. but it is still there. Is it that difficult to think you may be wrong about yourself? How easy is it to be fooled by the other self...... how easy it is indeed. Is there even an objective reality that anyone can hold on to.. or are we each other's reality? How rational is it for the rational to rely on rationality? ..Especially, when irrationality runs rampant from one mind to another burrowing in our hearts, minds, wants and needs.. or am I the only one that thinks that? Only one irrational link is needed to convolute any logic that held the chain together. Maybe i'm completely unrealistic about everything, would I ever know? There are too many maybes.. mixing in with ifs and buts.. all swirling together on a well-greased abacus of assumption. Abstractions can equal one another.. evens can equal odds.. by the same rule evens may not equate. What does this all add up to? Does it really matter? I'm beginning to think it can be broken down into one absolute need. Just one ....to make everything one.

I am stuck in the belly of this beast.....




and down to my last twix bar...

I see you everyday.. more than ever before.. everyday I hear you... singing through the madness.. everyday i feel you through the pain.. everyday I want you back... everyday I miss you more than I've ever missed you before.

somewhere in my mind..somewhere in the muck... a mirage of mirrors are shattered.. a multitude of miniscule candles smoking their last breath.. no more breathing... air slowing.. settling.. resting on my shoulders.. My feet.. no longer a blur... firmly feeling terra firma... Yes, it has been done.. it had to be done... following the path of failure to freedom.

somewhere in the muck.. finally free...free from shepherding shadows.........standing alone.........opening my eyes.. I see but my own shadow standing with me.. defying the light, it grows longer.. but soon loses faith... crawls back, behind, and vanishes beneath me.... Inviting more and more illumination.. seeing more and more.. finally seeing. Everything is gone. The way is clear.

somewhere in my mind a new path is possible.

It’s almost time to leave… I don’t think I can last much longer…was I ever there?

It’s dangerously overcast… too thick to fly… visibility close to zero…
Raindrops raining down… almost falling right through me… I don’t even notice… Stray rays of light dancing in the night… glimmering in each drop… giving me pause… but not for long…

I’m hopelessly lost with hope… staring into space… desperately looking for a shadow…
Shadows should have showed the way… shadows should have paved the way… yet I’m drenched deeper in dismay… Where do you stand? Where does the sun rise? I’m terribly colour blind… When it is black and white, will you only be on screen... will I ever settle for silhouettes? … I don’t think I can ever be the light.

It is growing so dim; I have trouble changing the bulb. I can’t count on the sun… it doesn’t stay for long... for I am stuck between two hills… each one steeper than the other… each side growing higher… overarching towards each other… stretching me thin…so very thin…Each hilltop slowly cracking and crumbling under the sun… grains of sand falling... burying me deeper into indecision… I don’t think I can breathe anymore… what choice do I have? I’m afraid I might have to do it... the rain is relentless...

My coat is dissolving… piece by piece devoured by the acidic rain… but that’s all it will eat… I’ve already consumed myself… there is little left… another pole… another drain… neither clockwise, nor counter, there’s no need for time… I don’t think it will ever change.

One day it will hit you… one day can change everything… one day can last an eternity... maybe tomorrow will be another world.

Wawie, I think what's happening to you is natural.. You see.. long long looong ago in the mountains of Yemen there once lived a tribe of unrully vampires...lazy ones.. but vampires nonetheless.. They called themselves the Khoornifashoon.. Initially they feasted on the blood of caterpillars, baboons, and the ocassionaly albino sheep (mostly for dessert).. but one day.. one fateful day.. they humanized their tastes!!.. I am getting ahead of myself here though.. that's for later.. to truly understand you must start from that place they call.. the beginning.

We must look a few generations back.. swooosh..... swoosh.. swaash...

Ahem .. Part A of our ancestry:

It was a hot and unbearably humid day (3rd of Sha'ban 1222 Hj.) in the magnificently terraced mountains of Yemen. Wet blobs of heat permeated a sleepy... well... very sleepy (with a genetic predisposition to sleep)... mud village in Hadhrammawt (Southern Yemen). As my father says, "It was a scorcher!".

Each additional degree of the rising sun, exponentially increased the degree of degrees. Iqbal and Mustafa, the local scrawny mountain roosters, simply could not cope. They were cooked to a delicious crisp, and unable to cuckoo the tiny mud village awake. As the feathered unfortunates roasted in their vaporizing juices, so too did three of the villages most corpulent Sheikhs. Sheikh Bin-Daheer, Sheikh Yahya and Sheikh Binbrek, the more bulbous of the three.

Oblivious to the harassing heat, these three men continued their descent deep into the comatose, omega phase, of hibernation. Waterfalls of sweat gushed from their jungly body pits, in harmony with the warm gaseous emissions emanating from their various orifices. Hour after hour they continued to sleep, until finally they were forced to surface. It was a rude but welcome awakening, as they were drowning in a cesspool of their own sweat. All three men paddled off their beds, reached for their jambias (daggers), and headed to the local qat (a leafy narcotic chewed by most Yemenis) market.

Anyways... I'm getting sleepy now, so the next part will have to come from our highly esteemed cousin, The Looney Man!! Take it away cuz..

Where are you now?

Nearly a lifetime has passed
since our fingers first met,
Blindly searching for some sort of net,
Feeling for feeling, feeling for grip,
Crawling in space, blindly they hit,
Duelling for life, our fingers were bound,
My mind awakened, shocked from the ground,
I can't thank you enough, you transformed my strife,
Word by word into the most beautiful life,
No reason to frown, no reason to mourn,
For out of our hands, a universe was born,
A world for the weary,
Your glove of sanctuary,
We had good times, we paid no fines,
Yet, despite the quiet, despite the wit,
The glove was always too small to sit,
If only it stretched, it would snuggly fit,
If only we met where no one bit.

Maybe I dug too deep,
creating a path too steep,
blackening my fingers with the tar of your sleep,

Darkened were my hands, they were harder to see,
Out of control, they were looking for thee,
Day by day they crawl away,
A part of me begs them, pleads them to stay,
I don't know enough to finish this poem,
My solitary hand, at a loss while you roam,
Too much to say, much less is known,
What can I say when nothing is shown?

You have more wisdom, you feared to linger,
Wasn't so easy, I was wrapped around your finger,
Twas a moment of eternity not long enough,
So soon it ended, too soon it's rough,
Will a handshake ever do?
Do you fear it may be true?
Where are you now?
Where are we now?
Tell me how?
I sit and wait, hoping for your call,
But I fear deep inside
the day may never
fall..

Silence has befallen me..

These two months of drought describe infinitely more than any string of text.. At first glance, it's just another dry patch of sand in the Empty Quarter...Another dune behind me, another bullet on my resume...It scares me how easily I succumbed, how easily I crossed the burning sand..

Yet, despite my automatous actions and monotonous distractions, I continued to ferment the mixtures in my closet.. I am still host to the midnight rendez vous of questions and answers...often in arms with one another.. more than often against me.

So much is desired in this world, yet we deny ourselves what we truly need.. It is painfully obvious, yet ever resounding, too painful for some...I cannot delve into didacticism for I am guiltier than the next, nor do I need to.. my three readers already know what they need to know.

Wisdom can come from many directions, but to act on it requires that I disentangle myself from myself and away from that which holds me in place... It is mutiny from below...supreme mutiny.. and if it succeeds.. it will leave a heartfelt voice in my head... strong enough to beautify the Quarter.. soft enough to bring the birds and bees.. deep enough to bring the rain... large enough to bring life. But what is new???

Questioning the questions.. they do arrive in plenty.. but if they are finally answered on paper will they hold any value? Will the test be outdated.. ? Will there be enough to salvage?? Will I ever know?.. Truth can be the most slippery of creatures.. will it consume me whole? Or suffocate me with its pervasive presence, just out of reach, but close enough to squeeze out life. When will I care enough?

an insight,
or simply a rediscovery..
a treasure i repeatedly unearth..
and one i repeatedly bury..

the bloody day passed.. as did many more..
rewinding my eyes.. realizing it was but a scratch,
now a scar to remind me of better days
.... ... .. .. . . .

migrating to a mundane monotony
signing every mile in scarlett
running residue in my rearview..
dripping to the last drop
reaching a suburban sea of solitude..
empty..
releasing my last breath
commending the suffocating conformity..

reluctantly entering hermitage..
counting the degrees, urging the shadow on..
growing you in..pushing me out.. dousing my soul
leaving frenzied footprints on my mind, stained in blood..
fresh blood.. from an old place..
feeling the puddle forming.. seeing what was hidden
reaching for an image, for a hope..
touching what is painfully untouchable..
losing more blood.. losing my mind..
losing the emptyness.. gaining an insight..

everyone, check out my cousin's cousin's (aka Wawie) blog !!

One more bloody day

.
..
...
..... ..here comes the fog again..
......
.........
.............

i've found u again.. descending from your eagles nest.. a solitary soul u are.. flying circles in the endless ether of your mind..looking for a way out.. angry that i am not there.. happy that i'm near.. and sad that i'm not.. waiting for perfection to set you free

..marching up the mountain.. my feet moving to the beat of life.. guided by the currents of my soul.. perhaps foolishly, perhaps to stay alive..climbing.. bleeding.. slipping, spinning, flying, and crashing to the top in a frenzied funnel of heat.. melting the snow caps.. warming the air.. drenching your nest.. bringing a blinding explosion of fog....... the fog of war....... there we are.. facing off.. firing missles of misunderstanding..stabbing with our fingers.. calling out, trying to find our way.. getting lost.. hearing but not seeing.. losing hope.. doubting that we were ever there.. trying to cover it up.. realizing what we already know

..over and over again.. realizing we are our own enemies.. teasing fate with your feathers, wishing for the impossible.... i dont want to go back down.. we cannot escape the gravity of our minds..

Hey ya'll check out ma buddy's , new blog

in search of sunrise

HAAAAAAAAAAAAPPY BAAAAAAAATHHHHHDAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY HUUUUUUUJAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND HAPPY BELATED BAAATHDAY TO MA CUUUZZ SAAAALMAA!!!!

.... ... .. . . .

in 5 hours i will stop at a red light, lean over, and double knot the rebellious laces on my right soccer shoe.. 1 minute later i will make a left turn and pick the grass out of the hole in my left shoe..i will park the car and see a tall lanky fellow running alone in circles.. . dried up mud will follow my first footsteps out of the car.. the pitch will be uneven.. the wind, cold and uninviting.... an hour later.. people will kick the ball in some direction.. and soon after... a large whale, the great Paindo, will plop onto the pitch and devour the opposing team.. minutes later it will spit them out as Oompa Loompas.. the great pizza chain, Marios, will rejoice!

.......leaning back in my makeshift, wingless, metallic fuselage..pulling on my rebellious bedsheet of a sail, perhaps married a bit too long to the broom sticks of my ice boat.. Sailing across an ice world, a placid purgatory.. smoothly sailing over miles of ice.. in a straight line.. straight in any direction.. All around.. the ground.. is ice.. Hunger left behind.. warmth no longer needed.. speech devoured by thought.. thoughts persecuted into hiding ..silence prevails.. Soothing winds prompting the sails, pushing.. towards an infinite nowhere..

Ocassionaly stopping.. stopping to feel the motion, never for too long.. eventually caught by the currents.. During these brief moments of respite.. tentacles of transparency radiate across the ice to a point of clarity, giving glimpses of a utopian underworld...leaning over.. my breath.. condenses on the invisible barrier, wiping it away, inches away from the souls of walking feet, i look down through the ice and up at them, they are odd creatures.. no words can articulate, no words are allowed.. thoughts are silenced.... Their world.. totally inverted.. upside down.. a table top world.. polished with care, shining, fragrant and free..

Puzzling.... In rare moments when the silence turns on itself.. persecuted thoughts dash across, under cover of firing synapsis, (diversionary friendly fodder) dashing in bursts these thoughts attempt in vain to create a collage.. an idea.. Inverting the idea.. seeing in the mirror, the tip of my sails.. scrapping lines through the icy sky, sweeping a barren sky.. eternally sailing.. over a final destination.

i dont know why.. why i try

i'm happy just to be

when the gates are opened.. when nature enacts its will.. when the tides kiss the sky.. all is covered.. Suddenly submerged, u become the tide, your mind is flushed out.. a new but familiar presence takes hold.. what you used to believe no longer matters, everything seems justified..for the moment.... for the moment, the moment is everything.. The journey is one you have taken before, knowing all waterways lead to a perfect cul de sac.. Anything is possible..

Morals which once navigated the seas are mercilessly minced, discarded and forgotten... Letting go.. flirting with the world of consequences awaiting beyond.. enjoying every moment.. flirting until u lose your breath.. and all at once floating to the surface.. breathing in your mind, reaching for your morals, looking at your reflection in disgust.. appealing to the sky.. disappointed with your weakness, wondering who you were.. Who will take hold when the moment counts. Who is holding now.. where is the watermark? What dangers lie ahead.. and who will be to blame..
Amazing how little control i have over my thoughts..

the printer at work flashed the words "wake up"

deebug note: transition from dr. k and dr. r to van dykes today smooth..

Heavier air, deeper ground, higher pressure..

Let me waste a few minutes of life to type this. Let me save my breath so i can waste it later... Pressing all the right buttons, opening all the right doors, smiling when a smile is required, getting absolutely nowhere. Shaving down the point each and every time, now too bloodied and blunt to make any difference. Slurping from my sour bowl of cynicism. Why? Soon there will be nothing to hurt, nothing to protect, nothing worth masking. Judgement and justice divorced at the altar.. their children living in my head. Each in their wicked ways wooing the court for their paternal rights. Their children, the only company of truth.. Others, enlisting each side, unknowingly feeding embryos of miscontent. Slanted schemas of a twisted world.. conceived in a breath of wasted air, harvested by a jealous parent, consumed by a human soul.

Since Basic is skilled in the art of stealth, his sudden leap on the convertible (top up) is only noticed by the friendly fungi of his hobbit-like feet..

"WHAT biznizz do you have here?!", exclaims Basic.
"Mhhwah? What did you say?", the Dark man questions Krivitskee.
"Huh? What did who say?.. You said something?", Krivitskee replies.

"Fools, it's me! You clueless clot poles! ", laughs Basic.
"Ooooh!!", the two clueless clot poles say in unision.

After much confusion the three weirdos realize they are friends from primary school and put away their plastic knives.. chuckling they enter a hexagonal straw hut.. Krivitskee and Basic both checking their six, the Dark man checking his watch..

Following much talk of saving the planet, canned fruit, and the feeding rituals of baby mushrooms.. Krivitskee and the Dark man explain their mission... Basic seems unimpressed.. after a few violent games of rock paper scissors, Basic agrees to join the pair on their mission to do who knows what..
Minutes later they exit.. with 3 shaven sheep..

"I can't wait to be outfitted in your stealthy Peepsheep spy suits", says Krivitksee, "It will be perfect for our covert operation in Tunisia!"
"Mahhh, yes just remember as long as you keep your zipper closed you will avoid discovery by those damn desert sheep", Basic advises.
"What does this button do?", inquires the Dark man.
"Oh, that's the high-tech fecal fabricator, incase those Tunisian guards get suspicious.", snickers Basic
"Cool, I just hope that rabbid raving lunatic Sheik Bizzybottoms.."
"Don't you worry about him, I know of an eagle eyed, potato fry lovin tenderfoot, he can plug any leak", interrupts Basic, "We will need him if we are to succeed"
"Ok, lets pluck this fellow from his flock", concludes Krivitskee.

As they plan to extract the unknowing sharp shooter from his gaggle.. mother nature releases a disapproving belch..she doesnt like sneaky plans.. the ground breaks open like a bad case of acne.. the air smells .. oh it smells too horrible to describe.... apples, pears, and bok choi start falling out of the sky.. . giggling is heard in the distance....

"This is turning into a mystery stir fry! We'd better run before it starts raining water!!", yells the Dark man.

All three strenuously galumph into the car.. the Dark man produces a rag from his shoe.. (most likely his sock) and quickly checks the oil... in seconds they are off..

"Damn!! I forgot my toothbrush!", yells Basic.

* * *

(Somewhere.. else.. preferably far far away.. )

"This book has been overdue for 3 months sir, pay now, or you will be put in a cell", states the balding monkish librarian.
"But, I only gyat 8 dollaz and fitty cense!! Ah can't pay right now, ya dunn undastaynd fuzzy fella!", yells Bumba, a frustrated southern bumble bee watcher.
"Sir, you must pay this fine now, you have exceeded your warnings, look here I'm pressing the button for security hehehe, you are going to suffer!", cackles the librarian.
"Nawww you listen here sonnyboy, I'm about to miss my scuba divin lessons for this.. I'll show u, I got a busload of whoo.."
"Come with us sir!", state two box-like creatures.

Bumbas pathetic resistance is subdued by a splat of rosy smelling book binding glue.. he is dragged off to the nearest cell.. and thrown into a black cube.

A few footsteps and hours later..

"Mrrrr..", groans Bumba.. "where is I?"
"You are here.", speaks the voice.
"Here? Where's here?", asks Bumba.
"Here, is where you are, where you arrived, and where you will never leave.. here is what you were, what you are and what you will become.", answers the voice.
"What, huh where who?", mumbles Bumba, "Mayn you gimme them hibbie jibbies! You speak anglish?"
"I speak to you", the voice whispers, "Your ears are my seive."

As Bumba shifts uncomfortably, the voice in the corner of the cell goes silent.. sound is replaced by darkness.. darkness takes the form of a figure..that of a woman..

blah.. gummy worms, i ate too many gummy worms..

words flying through..
no place to sink in..
no place to impact
drained to the bottom
light enough to float
just cold hands typing..
pressing down on each and every thought
pressing on the only thought
pressing on
floating on a flood of life..

such a bad idea..

there might as well be no time.. what's the point? You will not even realize the world passing beneath your roots.. all will be the same.. all will be worthless.. your only distinction... that u have none. Stupid stupid idea.. you will continue to hate what you are about to become.

lunchtime at le commensal..
there was i..
no..
there i was..
out the window, no signs of a stormy petrel..
it's probably too big to see
I can only peck away when i've lost
all feeling
then I shall see my own reflection
through the void..

im finding it..
almost thought i lost it, i can't hide it from u..

ahhhhhh.. i slept for 18 hours.. my goal now is to sleep 24h.. and wake up at around the time i went to bed the day b4.. hmmm.. maybe if u do sleep 24 hours.. u will wake up at the EXACT time u went to bed.. and not lose any time... that would be so nice! I had a hard time getting up though.. while i was innocently sleeping (dreaming about how to make the world a better place, of course!.. well i dont really remember actually.. hmm let me think.. mmmrrrr ... i cant recall.. at least it wasn't part 2 of wild dogs chasing me at a driving range, armies of rats invading my bubble bath.. or giant space ships with huge eyes starring at me from every angle.. and thank goodness that annoying el diablo dude didnt enter my 18 hour snooze.. hmmpf....it sounds very wet outside, well i'd better end this bracket before i ramble on about who knows what..i may end up like those people who talk to themselves on the way to "work" each morning..and.. ).. my butt was busy at work burrowing a crater so deep as to contend with ngorngoro's national wildlife crater park.. at least now if i ever spill crumbs on my bed they will all gravitate towards the butt zone..well whatever i came on here to type i've forgotten.. so gbye

Check out my cousin's new blog! The Looney Mun, yes we are blood related... there will be a permanent link to his site on the side over there.. be sure to expect some interesting/disturbing posts from that end..

months ago..the quicksand.. which i so happily found myself in, was warm, new and exciting.. then it started sinking away.. leaving me trapped in an hour glass of its own unique design.. i saw a refracted image of the world.. everything was tinted.. the last few grains of sand.. scraped through.. scratching the glass as i freed them from my shaky hands.. i couldnt hold on to them forever.. were it not for fate, i may have broken the glass.. yet those from above surely enjoy the irony of my existence.. seconds before impact...seconds before the final hour.. fortuna (the sneaky hog that she is) flipped the glass....and a waterfall of sand shocked me from above.. im losing vision of that refracted world.. my feet are starting to feel heavy.. lets build sandcastles like we used to?!

I'm going to see what awaits.. I shall be late..or early depending on the zone. Hopefully I will have a tale to tell.

is it normal to pee 3 times/hour?

......the sidewalk knows my face as i know its grace, on our morning walks together, nothing is spoken, nothing is hidden, that which is hidden need not be seen .. my sane companion as long as i can see.. you are very good to me.. keeping me occupied with your imperfect lengths and all your capricious cracks of character, oh i know u aren't that random! For years I have tried to keep you in step with my own.. ever so sneakily you inch away, the unwelcome fly in my cobweb of perfection..hah i dont think i will ever bring a balanced beat.

perhaps it's too dangerous to entertain such shifty guests.. when they entered I only saw their feet.. that's all they had.. then as the days flew by, i added little bits.. an ankle here.. a knee there.. hey! i almost have a skeleton. I must ask myself, have I spurned all this? Oooooooor is there a wind at their backs.. slowly blowing up the parts, counterbalanced by my own breaths... am i in a secret partnership? If it is so, our collective conscious is slowly edging to a grassy cliff.

I'm still collecting data, when im not in denial ... I am pretty sure that in the end, i should not activate the mechanism.. there are too many strings on both puppets.. this is dangerous, it's as if there is a hidden magnet.. if they swing too close, they may collide into a complex world of entropic entanglement.. strings will likely be cut, and all will watch as they spiral down to the deepest depths of the deep.. no one will catch them, there will be nothing to catch.. ooooh that would be such a shame!! Such a deceptive face. When i'm not looking, my hand sometimes looks for the switch.. it's something I will have to try to avoid.. I may have better luck avoiding a breath of air.

Without turning the lights on i will try to make my way to the fridge, and if i make it there, i will survive.

tomorrow is friday!!!!

maybe its not healthy being so openminded, so condusive to new ideas, actions or choices.. to almost be devoid of any sort of conceptual boundaries.. perhaps it would not be so bad if one were only to conceive from some purely clinical vantage point.... however, one could argue that acceptance of ideas can result simply due to familiarity.. and deviant habitual actions could easily be accomodated by a beaten path of rationalization.. in these cases at what point does openmindedness interfere with moral integrity, can there be total coexistence between the two? at what point is openmindedness seen to be the originator of weakness, deviance, or insanity, when superimposed upon the loose set of universal moral principles.. when does it slip from the positive to the negative end of its definition.. maybe it is not a problem of the mind, simply a weakness of the soul?.. i'll finish this thought another time.. maybe im not openminded enough

well, its a new year so they say.. lets hope it stays new and good

and yet, i feel like i already know what happened and what will happen.. anyways, hopefully tomorrow we'll have some dim sum, i feel like eating fried squid.. mmmm.. and perhaps learn more about windows in space... sheep, i hope u're having a good time.. i bet u're sick

there is a spot on my wall where the paint is peeling.. every so often i play with it and remove a few pieces of the curved up paint... Under the paint the wall appears to be white.. with a few patches of gray.. maybe there is a grand image on these walls that i can only see if i peel away all the paint.. it might not make sense to peel away at this paint, but maybe in the end it will.. maybe only when im completely blind will i see what i never knew existed.

blog blog blog

busy, shifting order to chaos..

so many patterns out there.. its time to go..

Entering this world.. taking my first few uncertain steps.. gazing far into the distance.. far was the visible.. far enough to be invisibly visible.. taking a few more steps.. exploring.. digging a few holes, planting a few seeds.. just a few.

Turning my back, lumbering around.. allowing sand, air, and heat to slowly permeate through.... reluctantly letting the seeds grow, the water flow.. green overtaking brown.. walking with care in some areas.. trampling others.. gazing into the distance, regenerating with the rising sun.. likewise the seedlings did so, rising to their master.

Awakening in a maze of hedges.. looking forward, sideways, backwards..all is green.. stepping on a beaten path.. certain only of the upcoming uncertainty.. trying to break the walls.. realizing they will quickly grow back.. growing tired.. succumbing to the shade of the leaves.. walking in dim light.. following the path.. aging with the hedge.. digging in my roots.. waiting for the soft drops of rain.. and glimpses of light, following the arrows.. giving up on finding the edge.. no more vindicating my vilified volition, i see nothing.. what is to be seen is not worth seeing.. blindly walking and talking in circles.

im getting dumber and dumer..

aha.. i finally see it.. yes yes u've been elusive havent u .. how long will u last in that cage?? .. hmm the last attendant left a note saying u'll eat through those bambo sticks in no time.. THIS time i think i'll be foolish enough to turn my back... hehehehe time time time.. u see my friend.. i WILL let u out of the cage, but only once i've fattened you up.. until you reach such a size as to react with the surrounding air.. then u shall invert the horizon.. Oh.. trying to slip through eh? I'm not letting u go this time.. the stakes are too high..

revisiting the cold quiet cave.. .... navigating the sea of clutter covering the soft sandy floor.. fingertips freezing into the walls.. what am i doing here? remembering the past, or becoming the past?

turning around..
smelling what i used to see...
superficially appeasing the pugnacity
water.. air..clouds
holding hands.. racing by
only slowed by this relic
streamlined by the currency of life
time to fill the hole with silence
typing nails into this empty mind

i dont know why im typing, i shouldnt be..

just had an odd phone interview.. and now i dont know why im still awake.. wrapped in my blanket.. when i was younger.. much younger.. i used to occasionally use my blanket as a cloak.. and move ever so swiftly in the halls and corridors of our old bungalow.. seeking out human bodies.. when i found some.. i would drop to the ground and cover my whole body with the blanket.. then i would lie still.. i would lie very still .. and remain that way for quite some time.. hoping that the people nearby would forget my presense.. and i would be able to sort of slip away.. i wanted to become an inanimate object.. a piece of furniture.. to be seen and not seen.. it never worked.. and i dont know if i ever really wanted it to..

.. went for one of those 3am drives.. life was getting too exciting in this padded prison cell. It's always nice to drive late at night.. especially when you have no place to go.. the later the better.. you can drive slowly.. crawl up roads you normally zoom by.. and observe all the things that normally get blended into the background. At first.. I puttered around the old neighbourhoods..hoping to spot some friendly animals.....one day i will catch the NH racoon ... .. without taxi cabs Kitchener could easily be mistaken for a ghost town after 3am..... approached Queen St. then slowly proceeded downtown.. in search of human life. I was not disappointed.. 3 white limos parrallel parked.. crowds of hooded hooligans, waving.... hmmm then further down .. a young male being arrested.. with a look of fear on his face.. probably peed his pants.. decided to do a U-turn after a few blocks and head back.. 3 limos were no more.. 5 cop cars in their place.. hooded hooligans now eating pizza.. Headed north after this.. a few stragglers between clumps of student bodies.. all looking for taxis... Could have made a lot of money if I had one of those Cab signs... ended the night on a dark country road.. couldnt enjoy it though.. some weirdo kept tailgating me.. now im further into the quarter of my quarter tank.. soon that fuel light will burn out.. i think the only therapy i can enjoy right now is the cold winter air that surrounds us.

now i'm officially sick of carrots

ahh.. well, i finished off the last of the lasagna.... had a nice carrot for desert.... while watching tvo at 5am i found something that i found a few days ago.. its funny that the source of my malaise is also the cure.. Realizing this more and more as the days go by.. ahhh and there's still some time i believe.. Anyways.. the beat.. yes i hear the beat.. its doing what it always does.. and so shall i. Watched a classic episode of Knight Rider afterwards.. I think im going to get another carrot.. brb. (munch munch) I find that the bigger carrots seem to have less taste.. hehe so I brought back two smaller ones. Its not easy to type though.. how would bugs bunny do it? Hmmmm.. one munch at a time.

.. leveling off .. angle of attack zero.. horizon parallel.. contrails for wing prints.. leaving a wake in the abyss of air..

red in the desert
quarter of a mile of quartz
wild dogs to the east


.. increasing throttle.. pulling back.. reaching the top of the loop.. pushing to the side.. completing the Immelmann, losing velocity.. gaining altitude..sun at my back, carpet of clouds below..

comfortably numb
lighting a flame in the rain
words and no action

no more haikus...... close to relapsing into a Split-S.. too many bogies down below, nice big juicy crippled superfortresses. Plexiglass can't save you from sausage size bullets.

I can enjoy half a tank of gas for the next few days. Need new shoes.. soccer in 7 hours. Bruce Lee has a place in Montreal.. 3 or 4 days.. Huja, maybe you can meet one of the other boroughs. The windows are clearing up.. I can see outside.. it is night time....

Today was an ok day. I didn't do much. I made a few small steps nowhere. Heated up some lasagna.. checked the mailbox, highlighted a page of notes.. learned that it's stupid to subsidize export goods.. especially if you don't care about political survival.

I like the first outfit.

it's very grey this morning...getting kind of hot in here.. roof looks cool... why do some people say "ruf"? Ohh! Martin's furniture drove by.. nice pink letters.

The Ravine is a very large open area.. yet at the same time every floor is potentially a roof of another floor.. only a few spots are safe, and only if they are guarded smartly.. It's history and location are known to very very very few people.. even I, the author of this mumbo jumbo, has no idea where the blasted place is.. Krivitskee, however, knows of its location. In fact, he wishes he never knew of its existence.. the mere thought of it often throws him into violent bowel movements and thoughts of moldy cheese. Atop the highest floor/roof, there resides a crazed vegitarian warrior known simply as, Basic. Surrounded by leafy body guards he meticulously examines each and every page of old issues of National Geographic, searching for.. who knows what... Wanted in dozens of countries and by dozens of bus drivers, for hundreds of crimes .. from egging egg lobbyists to excessive stealing of rubber bands; a menace to the free world, yet an excellent partner for Krivitskee's mission.

"Sir, we have visitors in Bear camp sector", says one of the leafy guards.
"Mmmm, I have been expecting them, deactivate the proximity mines, I'd like to see them in one piece", mumbles Basic.
"Yaaasur", says the guard as he tugs on various strings and pulleys.

The air, very still, slipping into nonexistence at once grabs attention as it lets out a loud snore.... the sound of Krivitskee and Dark man approaching at terminal velocity.

"Dark man, do morals get in the way of your life?", asks Krivitsksee.
"Sir, perhaps another time, I'm trying to land this beast of a car", says the Dark man as he bangs round objects and curses at regular intervals.
"I think you would make it in the rap industry, you have a good beat there", chuckles Krivitskee.."Oh hey watch your blind spot, you might hit that flock of birds".

All heads in the Ravine look upwards, except for the heads with no bodies. A silver convertible slowly lumbers down, instead of parachutes a family of mutant condors are let out of the trunk, and guide the car to Basic's cozy, leafy fortress. The four tires hit the ground with a very inelegant thud. The settling dust reveals Krivitskee cleaning out his ears, along with the Dark man, carefully examining the tire pressure. Out of nowhere Basic lands on the hood of the car..

9 minutes.. nothing passed.. seems to be less traffic.

thick mud walls forming..

changing colours in the sky.. growing brighter.. so beautiful at first, gradually mixing into a cerulean surrouding.. holding its ground, as pervasive as its dark twin.. sometimes its best to forget.. and forget the pain of not forgetting.. to let the colours slip away, swirl down the drain.. banished to the horizon.. beauty can be such a tragic thing.

Perfection, maybe it's the ultimate tease.. a ruler with no boundaries.. it seems as though everyone is created perfectly imperfect.. when the warm fuzzy glasses are cold, scratched, distorted, and discarded.. how does one reconcile all the imperfection? Should one be apathetic, evasive, delusional, confrontational, or perhaps become a groundless ping pong ball? This is all assuming there are perfect cases of coexistense.. yet, if one reconciles all that is backwards and approaches it from the side.. eventually it may move forwards.. transforming the imperfect to perfect.... .... .... an unfinished thought, maybe someone else can finish it.

If u are reading this, if u are there, if u still feel like u are there.. keeping low.. afraid of being thrown back if u show too much.. waiting for the storm to end. I just want to let you know that I'm still sitting at the table waiting for the Queen to move, no matter where she goes. I miss everything. It's hard to reciprocate through tinted windows. Will my only guests be teasing tumble weeds? I am waiting with a thankyou card. Thankyou for waking me up. I'm getting old and filling into this old old old soul's shoes. We will have to play bridge one day. Laconically yours..

The hurricane arrives just in time. Unlike any other hurricane in history, this one decides to be constructive rather than destructive. The dark fellow in the driveway remains in the dark. At once Krivitskee realizes that it's time to head to Copenhagen, a flock of demented birds confirms this. A surge of energy pumps through his apendages as he forces the window shut. Turning, he see's his face, touches the mirror.. then proceeds to smash the previously open window, pops his head out and yells,
"There is a hidden world of opportunity behind every wall of deception! "
The dark fellow shrugs and offers a french fry.
Hopping out the window Krivitskee lands in the dark man's convertible.
"Opps, before I forget", exclaims Krivitskee as he flaps his arms like a chicken.
Instantly, a black bedsheet, resembling a glorified cloak flies out the window and wraps itself around his shoulders.
"Can't leave without my bedsheet!"
"Yes, sir", mumbles the dark fellow.
"Take me to the man they call 'Basic'", commands Krivitskee.
"But sir, he's... umm.. . nevermind"
"Wish washy today aren't we dark man?"
"I'm not perfectly dark yet, and I believe he is residing in the Ravine", responds the despondent dark man.
"Well, regardless, lets pay a visit to Basic, events in Copenhagen require his attention."
Krivitskee grabs the french fry and begins to viciously pick at his teeth.

ma'a salama ya hamama..

curves everywhere.. notes off key.. water water.. so much water, there must be more to it. I dont think i'll ever get it. Maybe this means I will never do anything. I need to make some more mistakes. Where's that ape arm that turns the pages? It looks like the world is heading towards itself.

I once had something... a basket that I filled with goods..(like a good economist)... At first, things looked promising, I had all kinds of widgets in it.. wonderful things. I treasured each item, understood it, and placed it neatly in my basket... One day, I had a terrible thought.. a self defeating thought.. I convinced myself that this basket was hopelessly finite. Soon, I started to limit what I placed in the basket.. and eventually.. my standards went so high that I picked nothing.... the less I picked, the more the basket shrunk.. the more darkness cascaded over light.. This evening.. as I was indulging in my usual nothingness.. I saw something that changed everything.. lately i've been posting my own 95 thesis.. this is the 95th, as im sure everyone (my two readers) is sick of hearing about it.. i hope i'm not being naive this time.. stupid ScanDisk is taking forever. I shall be reaquainting myself with an old friend for the next little while.. Harrr, I think that binding glue did the trick..

White walls are much easier to converse with than blue ones.. there is no room for excess baggage.. as well, tunnel time is accelerated.. Escaping the void of nothing, if only for a moment, can leave a lasting impression.. clarity is usually stuffed in between the empty chaos, only if I am lean enough can I border the boundaries.. watching the grass grow higher. Entering that utopia would at once put me in its antithesis. As long as I approach it, I will enjoy its warmth.

Slowly.

Its an evil sort of slow.. savoring every hour, minute, and second, so slow that it’s invisible. Distracted by epicurean cats and dogs, chewing, regurgitating, eventually mangling the chaos to a fine pulp, perfect for suffocation. Maybe this is good, butchering the soul to buoyancy. Yet, that is only half the journey, or so I think. A memory is required, a strong individual memory.. so strong that it appears to live around the corner, comfortably settled into the paranoia. With one slip, it threatens to grab with the speed of capitulating dominos.. squeezing out everything of value. The stench of the pit, must keep me afloat if I am to approach that slice of crisp clarity. Some people like the thin crust. Hopefully, I will learn the rest on the go. Once again I have started the race.. spacing my dominos more wisely, looking back.. looking forward.. realizing I’m at the edge. I hope someone has a stopwatch. ~!S!~

Sheep, I passed the Skedar level!!! U have to check out the next one.. it's Blondes Revenge... back in Cassandra's building..the one with the elevators!!!

somone is knocking.. with each knock reality grips more tightly, squeezing out dreamy thoughts.. Krivitskee gets up ... tempted by wild goose feathers and visions of eternal rest, he contemplates capitulation.. but somehow is pushed further .. there is more knocking.. a rhythmic knocking.. tripping over stacks of "Good Houskeeping", holding on to the door for support.. he starts to feel the blood flowing, the room starts to settle... sunlight.. at first blinding.. shows him the way.. the knocking becomes louder, fuelled by the knowledge of his lazy movements.. looking out the window he sees what he already knew was there. He grunts. Unlocks the window, sniffs the air... grunts once more. The knocking stops, two pairs of eyes meet, with one glance a message is passed.. having eavesdropped.. the leaves begin to wilt.. clouds start to circle.. the air, very still.. takes a break.. Five eyes converge on one spot and for a brief moment the world stops.

what i see is what i have to say, so u see i have nothing to say.. but as i say this i see what i didnt see before and at once i have something to say although its nothing really worth seeing..

the round thing with string is going back down..

thanx to u.. u .. and u.. as well as the other u's :)

I need to slip between the lines of text that are my life.. if i succeed.. the freshly printed ink will hopefully smear my skin.. blending my being into a hermitic hue allowing me the comfort to be everywhere.. but more importantly nowhere.. detached and free i shall spin a solitary path to my island.. i just hope its not filled with eremites.. goodbye for now.. postcards will not be sent..

Many people are subconsciously self-proclaimed immortals.. waking up each morning.. afternoon or evening.. depending on the lifestyle.. plopping their minds on the conveyor belt of daily life.. moving along.. receiving the familiar pushs and shoves.. never thinking it will end.. never counting on the loop to break.. the belt to stop.. the axe to fall.. perhaps nature has a hand in this.. with each day ..comes the rising sun.. the setting sun.. the luminous moon.. the darkness of night.. i remember..years ago reading a book by Ray Bradbury.. in it he writes about this planet which closely orbits a giant sun.. the people on the planet live very accelerated lives.. at most they are alive for a week.. on day one they are babies..day 4 they are adults on day 7 or 8, if they're lucky, they are old.. wise .. and at deaths door.. far in the distance there is a large futuristic capsule..a mystery to all.. the tribe of people have been surviving for generations in the caves of a small mountain range.. many have tried to reach the capsule.. but none have been able to cross the lengthy track of desert in between.. this is due to two factors.. if they are caught in this desert during mid day.. they are burned alive.. if they are in this desert after sunset.. they freeze to death.. they are a highly intelligent race.. yet the elders who have the most wisdom.. often do not have enough time to pass on the valuable knowledge.. after years of drought.. a violent storm approaches the mountains and dumps rediculous amounts of water in the surrounding area.. two brave souls attempt the trek to the capsule.. hoping the raging waters will push them along the dried river beds that lead to the capsule.. miraculously they make it.. and upon entering the capsule their life changes in a way they could never imagine........ for us.. each day the sun rises..lingers in the air.. then grows tired and slips away.. a few hours later it gets jealous.. pushes the moon away and takes up its old spot.. it feels like an endless cycle... each new day is expected.. counted on.. looked forward to.. or dreaded.. but very rarely is its arrival ever doubted.. im getting too tired to finish this off.. why am i awake?

Sometimes I ride the wild bull.. going headstrong.. spearheading the most unconventional of attacks.. often closing my eyes.. not wanting to see where I may end up.. hoping for greener pastures.. blindly kicking the bull.. aiming its horns at the paper thin fabric of properness.. ripping a gaping hole.. and entering the real world of another.. smelling the real flowers .. discarding the plastic..

went to class today.. hmmm... felt strange .. i tied my shoelaces.. shortly after i washed hands much like one would wash their hair if it was a nesting area for wild bucktooth, flea infested, constipated rats.. ok maybe that last simile was a bit long.. i just had a flashback to the desert days and the rat season.. what i saw.. i saw.. but maybe by seeing i became blind to other things.. vision can give a false sense of security.. like tunnel vision to heaven that blocks the surrounding hell.. its probably for our own sanity.. who really wants to stare into the pits of hell? Or perhaps its the reverse..

Water gently pats my raft along.. not wet enough to be uncomfortable, not dry enough to be content.. lying on my back, as I usually am.. I do not see where I am going.. looking up into the sky.. I see such grand images.. I see birds .. flying.. I wish I could fly.. how do I reach the sky? As long as I look at the sky, my fate will be determined by the gentle and not so gentle pats.. I think I have an oar.. maybe I should start using it.. so one day I can fly.. one step at a time and I shall reach the hills of kitty hawk..

I have returned from an 11 day journey of mind and body.. am i wise enough to know if im wiser, probably not.. the walls in my room are looking a bit green tonight.. teetering on the edge of aqua .. school is starting on monday.. still have yet to decide if this is a good or bad thing.. where am i going to find the discipline to actually sit, listen .. and learn. The orange traffic cone is screaming to be washed.

today was a long and tiresome day.. as most long days are.. however, this time i sort of detached myself and avoided slipping into holes of frustration.. once at the airport.. at soccer in the morning.. at dinner time.. and of course when i lost a game of monopoly to my neice.. i dont seem to care.. but at the same time i'm puzzling others with no real motivation.. oh well.. slowly im becoming more and more an impartial imp and less and less an emotive being... or maybe i just didn't get enough sleep last night..

words words words.. lately i've come to realize how heavy words can be.. i don't agree with the phrase, "actions speak louder than words", at least not in the vague context im refering to.. Actions and words can be interpreted in many different ways.. but i think words can, at times, be more lethal.. likely one of the main sources of pain and frustration on this round planet.. i have to learn to say what i mean and not what i would say in an impossible, yet ideal set of circumstances.. i just don't know what i want.. hmmm i think im going to sleep.. hopefully i'll dream about mangos again

im not asking for too much.. maybe im expecting too much.. in any case im still not satisfied after a few scoops of ice cream.. at times it seems no matter how hard u try the chicken still lays bricks instead of eggs.. probably b/c the game doesnt play by our rules.. we play the game.. logic will only get u so far.. after that one enters a messy world of hidden pythons, ready to grab u by the head and squeeze whatever idea u thought u had into incomprehensible chimp scribbling, if the python doesnt get u then the misty haze confuses the language.. making it that much easier to step on landmines.. and thats just the external.. inside the squeezed head is countless more.. assumption.. paranoia..phobias.. ancient quirks... confusion is often a symptom.. often, the python.. chimp.. and other furry/reptile metaphorical creatures do not know fully why they even exist.. adding to the confusion, similar to what most of my readers are experiencing.. the sane ones.. but such is life..

.. sometimes more is told by what is not said.. by speaking vaguely.. tiptoeing on ambiguity.. one can deal with difficult issues... sometimes its the only path to resolution.. a sharp sword of bluntness can seal more than it cuts.. to see sunlight u don't need to look directly at the sun... ankle braces look tiny at first.. but after u struggle for a few seconds.. the impossible appears possible leaving u with a nice snug fit.. currently i am non compos mentis.. spiralling down a hole i dug myself.. some people need darkness to wake up..

cold inside, hot outside.. such is life with old people.. slipping away into a dark void can be quite exciting..if only it weren't sooo subfusc. I seriously need.. something. Physically I'm held back (stupid ankle!) mentally im stuck.. maybe I need clearance for take off? Enough of that.. as encore says, "I'm walking in the sky, heaven's holding hands with me... I'm happy just to be".. I'd rather fly through the sky.. walking.. hmm only good for when i'm in a reflective mood.. often that's more of a melancholic melee than a liberating "aha", unless i take off the gloves .. It's such an odd time of the day.. I'm not getting enough sleep.

.. not thinking might answer much of our thinking.. its pretty difficult to sit for two seconds without thinking of one thing or another.. or for that matter exclusively picturing blueberries on swings... there's so much junk floating around in our minds.. so much background static, or synaptic slush as i call it.. if one were to block out the chaotic contiguity of thoughts then a simple truth may be found..and maybe that is the human curse, that we are able to have all these silly thoughts bouncing around in our heads at the same time.. sure as heck confuses me sometimes.. now i've lost my train of thought.. oh i'll shut up now..

Ugh.. once again, logical thinking lost the battle.... efficiency and rationale brutally squashed by slow narrow minded bufoolishness..... is time the culprit?? Slowly chipping away at a reasonable mind.. twisting it ever so slowly until it becomes a defensive wet ball of black and white stone writing.. shutting all doors and windows.. condemning itself to a solitary voice.. at least until it receives visitors from "senilia".. well maybe not all is lost.. maybe one must attack with mercenary foces disguised as objective voices of reason.. or maybe there is, in fact, wisdom in a dark room.