Ugh... I'm not heartless but I seriously can't stand animals! [I was Vegan, once and plan to be so when I get a permanent job and home, so do know I care.] It's just this goddamn cat keeps trying to brush up against me and is circling me as I write! Freaks me out... Mainly because I don't know their thoughts. Well, aside from that it's an ideal winter outside in Kansas City, right now... 60 degrees with a cool breeze and a considerably decent view of the stars... This is the one blessing I recieve from Global Warming... Thank you 1980's and your love of damaging hairsprays, you made today gorgeous. Sucks that on such a day I'm left with noone and nothing to do... 'T's why I'm writing outside, to say I at least got to enjoy it before the flakes of snow blot the city white, once more.
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What's annoying and sickening is that lately I'm unfulfillably thirsty!!! Like, that sounds retarded, I know, but it's true... I'll drink countless glasses full of Orange Juice, Kool-Aid, or even have a Coke and I still feel as if I'm trapped in the desert with but a waterbottle to keep me alive for the following week... I don't know, C.J. says it's because of the furnace being up so high, and it creating dry air, but whatever it may be, I wish it gone... Bottomless thirst can drive a person mad!!!!
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
12.24.08
This journal won't last... I've started countless journals and they've all been forgotten and abandoned... That last phrase should've been reversed... "They've all been abandoned and forgotten..." Okay, now I feel better... Damn O.C.D.
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So, to speak the mind... I've turned this personal writing into an unread blog, which will probably be deserted, as well... I know these things are suppose to be purely creative and exhibit contained-brilliance of mind through poetic words and descriptive, expressive art. But, I'm no volcano of thought... As an individual, I typically forget that which I live, and repress what could inspire, I suppose... I've always been told to take all my emotions of pain or happiness I've developed from daily situattions, and transfer them into words to form stories of truth and passion when I write... Though, somewhere in my mind's a wall, more of a baracade, I think, disabling me from that act of transference... The rage, the drive, the hurt, the love, the loss; all strong in my heart, gut, and lungs, but meak when exposed to my tongue or the tips of a pen. Possibly just writer's block, or more proof that I'm not so eloquent... People tend to assume I'm dense, for when I speak the most frequent word to come from my mouth is, "like." Oh, and the cringe-triggering language I speak of a fifty-yearold, male salior doesn't help my case any further... Wiki-pedia gives the definition to my consistant creations of new words.
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Ou, irritating thought! : Why the fuck did Webster decide to put the hairsplitting "word", "ain't", in the dictionary!?!?!?! Like, seriously... What the fuck... We might as well add a new definition in, stating that the word, "mug", is now to be used to state any item of choice. Ex: "Boy, check out that mug, that bitch has got!" Wow, I sure know exactly what that's about... Not! Simply put, just because the majority of society has become illiterate and begins to use such a word so frequently, doesn't mean it's instantly qualified as part of the English language. If it's really so necessary to define these broken terms, then instead of fracturing the book that's meant for proper English, one should create a Slang Dictionary to litter the pages of... Personally, it'd make more sense... Eek, and please don't think I'm being hipocritical! I'm just as bad, but at least I'm trying to improve upon that which I've learned and adapted to. Change takes a great deal of time as history shows... Well, at least when it comes to improvement. When lazy, careless, sloppy, and thoughtless change is enforced, it comes like fire, unfortunately.
____________________________________________________________________
Ugh, I forgot how painful it was to just go about writing for periods of time; most likely why I began a typed journal, from lyrics I'd post on Facebook... I quit the journal part of that, because I became annoied with the scrapbooking part of printing each entry off and organizing all the pages in a book, shortly bound by yarn and paperclips...
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Fuck!!! Alright, I'm very odd when it comes to conversation, okay? I tend to write poeticly when I speak my mind to others through texts, AIM, or e-mails. Unfortunately, I deleted what I was going to record in this entry from a discussion I had earlier with my close friend, Jon. The oddness was not how I write, but how I save any conversations I feel that have effected me, or stated lines of pure, living inspiration. My texted discussion with Jon had a moment where I defined how it is that I fall in love... And, I hadn't ever thought of it till then. I'm in love with a boy named, Cody Christopher Klamp; my one and only true love in 17 years. Cody once said something like:
With there being so many people in this world, I find it doubtful that you could only love just one from billions of others. There has to be more than one person that you are made for...
Truly broke my heart a bit more when he said it, but we were arguing then and about an hour later we were back to our happy, I Love You's, and uncomprehendible deep discussions, we routinely fall prey to. But anyways, what I originally was getting to before my memory ran away with me was, the definition of how I see falling in love is to occur...
Love is only achieved through undying lust. You're in love with their body and face, at first. Then, you fall for the way they speak. Everything from looks, to mind, to their every flaw!
I fell in lust with Cody when I first saw him, February 1st, 2008 at the first Lakeland show I had ever attended. I wanted him so bad, I barely knew what had comeover me. Then, February 18th, 2008... I fell in love with who he was; mind of truth, beauty, and limitless potential, combined with a personality so pleasurable, he was someone impossible to hate... Yet, I swore I would hate him for all that he'd done; but I can't... I love him more... That's the only thing I can hate, myself, for not being able to just turn away. His flaws are gorgeous, although they repulse the average person. Schizophrenia is this twisted sickness he's contorted to, making him crazy-beautiful. Doesn't bathe, a complete slave to any drink or drug, angry and filled with rage, a little boy just wanting to be loved... He'd deny each claim, screaming I don't know him at all and who am I to judge. But, I know this part of him I read too well, despite his attempts to push me away from this core. I know him, I promise, and always will, no matter how far he runs. I think it scares him, but that I don't know... He's more likely annoied... It's sad, as brilliant as he is, there's no way to get him to shine... He knows that in the end we're all forgotten, so why bother making any impression on this time... If only he'd act, you'd see something great; not an accurate comparrison, but he'd be as impressionable as John Lennon, or at least close to that degree. But, he remains still. I find it cowardly, the way he hides and avoids the World's reality, living in his schizo one... But, it's a disease of the mind being controlled by paranoia and imagination, that's only to be treated if the host, in their delusion, can see the advantages in doing so... In Cody's case, I don't see him changing, even though it's all I hope... This disease is what creates either our instability or our fabrication of love... It forever haunts me that I don't know which is true.
__________________________________________________________
So, to speak the mind... I've turned this personal writing into an unread blog, which will probably be deserted, as well... I know these things are suppose to be purely creative and exhibit contained-brilliance of mind through poetic words and descriptive, expressive art. But, I'm no volcano of thought... As an individual, I typically forget that which I live, and repress what could inspire, I suppose... I've always been told to take all my emotions of pain or happiness I've developed from daily situattions, and transfer them into words to form stories of truth and passion when I write... Though, somewhere in my mind's a wall, more of a baracade, I think, disabling me from that act of transference... The rage, the drive, the hurt, the love, the loss; all strong in my heart, gut, and lungs, but meak when exposed to my tongue or the tips of a pen. Possibly just writer's block, or more proof that I'm not so eloquent... People tend to assume I'm dense, for when I speak the most frequent word to come from my mouth is, "like." Oh, and the cringe-triggering language I speak of a fifty-yearold, male salior doesn't help my case any further... Wiki-pedia gives the definition to my consistant creations of new words.
_________________________________________________________
Ou, irritating thought! : Why the fuck did Webster decide to put the hairsplitting "word", "ain't", in the dictionary!?!?!?! Like, seriously... What the fuck... We might as well add a new definition in, stating that the word, "mug", is now to be used to state any item of choice. Ex: "Boy, check out that mug, that bitch has got!" Wow, I sure know exactly what that's about... Not! Simply put, just because the majority of society has become illiterate and begins to use such a word so frequently, doesn't mean it's instantly qualified as part of the English language. If it's really so necessary to define these broken terms, then instead of fracturing the book that's meant for proper English, one should create a Slang Dictionary to litter the pages of... Personally, it'd make more sense... Eek, and please don't think I'm being hipocritical! I'm just as bad, but at least I'm trying to improve upon that which I've learned and adapted to. Change takes a great deal of time as history shows... Well, at least when it comes to improvement. When lazy, careless, sloppy, and thoughtless change is enforced, it comes like fire, unfortunately.
____________________________________________________________________
Ugh, I forgot how painful it was to just go about writing for periods of time; most likely why I began a typed journal, from lyrics I'd post on Facebook... I quit the journal part of that, because I became annoied with the scrapbooking part of printing each entry off and organizing all the pages in a book, shortly bound by yarn and paperclips...
____________________________________________________________________
Fuck!!! Alright, I'm very odd when it comes to conversation, okay? I tend to write poeticly when I speak my mind to others through texts, AIM, or e-mails. Unfortunately, I deleted what I was going to record in this entry from a discussion I had earlier with my close friend, Jon. The oddness was not how I write, but how I save any conversations I feel that have effected me, or stated lines of pure, living inspiration. My texted discussion with Jon had a moment where I defined how it is that I fall in love... And, I hadn't ever thought of it till then. I'm in love with a boy named, Cody Christopher Klamp; my one and only true love in 17 years. Cody once said something like:
With there being so many people in this world, I find it doubtful that you could only love just one from billions of others. There has to be more than one person that you are made for...
Truly broke my heart a bit more when he said it, but we were arguing then and about an hour later we were back to our happy, I Love You's, and uncomprehendible deep discussions, we routinely fall prey to. But anyways, what I originally was getting to before my memory ran away with me was, the definition of how I see falling in love is to occur...
Love is only achieved through undying lust. You're in love with their body and face, at first. Then, you fall for the way they speak. Everything from looks, to mind, to their every flaw!
I fell in lust with Cody when I first saw him, February 1st, 2008 at the first Lakeland show I had ever attended. I wanted him so bad, I barely knew what had comeover me. Then, February 18th, 2008... I fell in love with who he was; mind of truth, beauty, and limitless potential, combined with a personality so pleasurable, he was someone impossible to hate... Yet, I swore I would hate him for all that he'd done; but I can't... I love him more... That's the only thing I can hate, myself, for not being able to just turn away. His flaws are gorgeous, although they repulse the average person. Schizophrenia is this twisted sickness he's contorted to, making him crazy-beautiful. Doesn't bathe, a complete slave to any drink or drug, angry and filled with rage, a little boy just wanting to be loved... He'd deny each claim, screaming I don't know him at all and who am I to judge. But, I know this part of him I read too well, despite his attempts to push me away from this core. I know him, I promise, and always will, no matter how far he runs. I think it scares him, but that I don't know... He's more likely annoied... It's sad, as brilliant as he is, there's no way to get him to shine... He knows that in the end we're all forgotten, so why bother making any impression on this time... If only he'd act, you'd see something great; not an accurate comparrison, but he'd be as impressionable as John Lennon, or at least close to that degree. But, he remains still. I find it cowardly, the way he hides and avoids the World's reality, living in his schizo one... But, it's a disease of the mind being controlled by paranoia and imagination, that's only to be treated if the host, in their delusion, can see the advantages in doing so... In Cody's case, I don't see him changing, even though it's all I hope... This disease is what creates either our instability or our fabrication of love... It forever haunts me that I don't know which is true.
12.23.08
Seems I never returned with my thoughts, yesterday... Currently, my body's lagging and my brain's feeling needle pricks, with every attempt I make to concentrate on my multi-tasking... The side effects I experience when I'm wide awake, after inhaling forgettful amounts of weed. Smoking, although very enjoyable, has lost its glow to me. Once, a perfect escape from reality, now, just consumes the time which I'm wasting slowly, day-by-day.
Monday, December 22, 2008
12.22.08
I write in intervals... Shifts of the mind, really. So, I might make myself hard to follow or understand from page to page, and word to word. My mind itself never runs as it should... Cutting out days, throwing off time, and filming each memory in some backwards form, just making it so unfitting to maintain a single constant. Explosions are quaint once you've experienced the battlefield that rages-on in my head... It makes traffic-collisions seem pleasant. Now, I'm lying here, in this temporary bed, with the most massive headache... No, I have not taken any pills to help the pain, for as strange as it sounds, I don't ever take things to make me well. I believe, after I got heavier into counter drugs and prescription pills that truly no medications were gonna make anything stop... Only mask the existing with a fading guise, and then BAM!!!, that sickness hits again, until it goes away naturally, as it would've before. Yawn... I am tired; in the morn' I'll go on...
12.21.08
Nobody is who I've become, or maybe it's just who I am. I can't recollect these 17 years I've spent in this world. Sometimes, I think that it's but a dream, or a nightmare... Neverending. I never thought Hell as such a bad place, because the physical torture is something that you could adapt to... The emotional torture experienced as a mortal, I personally believe is far worse. You can never adjust, you can never prepare yourself, and everytime a pain happens it hurts even worse than the last and lingers on further pass the point that you ever thought it would go. I'd rip out my organs if I knew I'd live. Depression's like Hell inside your body and mind... A fire of pure irritation crawling beneath your skin.
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FEEL WHAT'S REAL
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FEEL WHAT'S REAL
We were only ships, floating and fighting against the waves and tides of the sea; which was waiting to swallow us whole... The only end for all is to drown in the abyssis.
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Suicide was never something I could put into action. It's always a thought. Might be my fear of death that made this so, but the idea still remains. I dream up ways of dying and it being this final chance to have happiness. But, just the same I'm dreading the horror in my head of dying and leaving nothing as noone; living a wasted life unfulfilled of working love, achieved aspirastions, and lived happiness. So, in order to indulge and protect both thoughts, I conclude that I am to drink, do drugs, and smoke cigarettes like a chimney, because really it's the slowest most oblivious way to kill yourself ever... Live now and do all that you dream, to die young before you lose everything. Carpe Diem; as the cliche standard.
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Suicide was never something I could put into action. It's always a thought. Might be my fear of death that made this so, but the idea still remains. I dream up ways of dying and it being this final chance to have happiness. But, just the same I'm dreading the horror in my head of dying and leaving nothing as noone; living a wasted life unfulfilled of working love, achieved aspirastions, and lived happiness. So, in order to indulge and protect both thoughts, I conclude that I am to drink, do drugs, and smoke cigarettes like a chimney, because really it's the slowest most oblivious way to kill yourself ever... Live now and do all that you dream, to die young before you lose everything. Carpe Diem; as the cliche standard.
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