i'm being patient. keeping an eye on the stream and only focusing on the ones that seem like the right ones. i'm staying conscious about not overextending or forcing.

that's what it's like to cry sometimes.

when you have to be a very strong person, when people are looking at you for what to do, you have to focus all that energy into your head, but your emotions go somewhere, carried by an underground river into somewhere deep. dark. afterwards, when you find a safe place, you cry like that, just release. it's almost masturbation, once it's gone, you can see things the way that's normal again, but you'll always remember those days when you cry as rainy days, whether or not they were.

what would it be like for me to just be myself? claim ownership over everything i own, feel that the things i've collected really belong to me. to believe in whatever i want to believe in, and not worry about how other people react. become...average. enjoy the mundane.

did you come here looking for me?

oh, you know that if you come around, i'll show you exactly who you think i am. the truth is i haven't changed. and i know all the masks you like best. but the stuff you're hating, the stuff that's shocking you because you don't own it...i didn't change. it's who i've always been. and you caught me before i'd recognized it.

you haven't seen me in a while. none of you have. i'll tell you what it's like in my world. my body's a machine. it's strong and it's cut. i could lose this focus any day now, but as it serves me now, it gets a lot of attention while holding my boundaries.

my heart is massive. you see, life is either really focused or it's really polarized. you either put your heart into one, focused thing, or you put your heart into everything, but in doing so, you love nothing specific.

i've never been good about taking disappointment. it's one of my deepest flaws. it's not because i want it to feel that way, but it's this sadness that rushes into me like water from the darkest corners. it breaks my heart, but because i can refocus, i abstract it. i put it into the realm of imagination, of theory, but in doing so, i have to let go of the thing that hurt me.

i've been very focused, but in a way i've never experienced before. i control my experiences and i meet a lot of people. i'm focused because in one world, i'm happy, and in another, i'm very sad. somehow, this produces an energy that people seem to be drawn to.

the flip:

the two sides of a coin. and its shadow.
so many people have so many questions and they search for answers. when they meet someone who's a mirror, the mirror takes on their questions and allow them to provide answers.

perhaps it's the shadow that is the mirror. perhaps these shadows are actual people.

i've always been so offended when people believe darkness is synonymous with evil and fear. some people use dark energy to do good. like the moon. sometimes it's not about doing good or bad as much as maintaing a balance of opposing forces. there's a truth to this energy. most people perceive their mothers as complex energies, light, dark or sometimes a combination--mothers are the ghosts that haunt a child within adulthood. it's a matter of understanding it and not being afraid. to gain or to lose. whichever is your greater fear.

the problem is i speak my own language when i'm myself. and because of this, i spend more time alone, having random experiences. but i've been pretty helpful lately.

everything. is everything.
the more i talk about it it, the less i do control.

significance. is in the connections between people.
home. is wherever you need it to be.

Life is 100% a storm. never let it fool you. but don't let it keep you from living.

oh, i'm missing poetry in my life. i'm missing so much poetry.

i don't want to carry any more secrets. i just want to find someone i trust to tell them all to. everything that i've been holding for everyone.

the best way to show you who you are, is to show you everything you're not.

When I started to write this book and I was writing and writing every day, then when that darkness came, I was ready to enter it. It took time before that, to reach that stage. You can't do that by starting to write today and then tomorrow entering that kind of world. You have to endure and labor every day. You have to have the ability to concentrate. I think that's the most important ingredient to the writer. For that I was training every day. Physical power is essential. Many authors don't respect that. [Laughs] They drink too much and smoke too much. I don't criticize them, but to me, strength is critical. People don't believe that I'm a writer because I'm jogging and swimming every day. They say, "He's not a writer."

-Murakami

the hands that can't see
the eyes that can't feel

sometimes they just have to trust each other.
that is, when they finally realize the other exists.

i keep saying it, but i'm not applying it. no one can jerk you around without your permission.

nothing i say changes anything. so i will stop wasting my words.

a gemini self portrait

ask questions twice in quick succession, forwards then backwards. you should get a forwards then backwards answer and these answers should be complementary. if the answers are the same, if you get no answer or feel physiological changes inside the person as they answer, there is a problem. Not necessarily a lie or dishonesty, but the person is on some level aware they are not being completely honest.

the question then, is always why.

i've found mountains and anthills, as well as anthills perceived as mountains, mountains perceived as anthills.

(yes, it's from the play closer. it's a craving. i can't watch the movie without it giving me longings of obsessive thought. but it's definitely one of the best works of modern, urban literature. i say that because so many of the words, their meanings and the way they're arranged, tickle the hell out of my brain)

Larry (smiles): Don't get lippy.
I liked your book, by the way.

Dan: Thanks...You Stand Alone.

Larry: With Anna. I'm not sucking your literary cock but I did quite like it--because it was 'humane' (surprisingly). You should write another one.

Dan (shrugs): Haven't got a subject.

Beat

Larry: When I was nine, a policeman touched me up.
He was my uncle. Still is. Uncle Ted.
Nice bloke, married, bit of a demon darts player.

Don't tell me you haven't got a subject--every human life is a million stories.

Thank God life ends--we'd never survive it.

trust me. you get the most out of me as a friend.

one day you're gonna jump so high, the world's not gonna be here when you come back down.

musiK is music when it is stripped of its market value. It is the naked German beauty.
Being at the centre of man’s innermost reality, musiK is probably the wildest expression of the omnipotent might embodied by the great requiem. It is the impotent shiver performed by the descending lonesome violin. It is the spotless expression of enlightenment and its ‘highly praised’ tempered tonality. It is the sublime oud indecisive tonality digging into the Arabian night.
Unlike visual art, which composes beauty out of shapes, colours and matter, unlike prose, which integrates words into meanings and narratives, musiK is all about musiK. In other words, musiK is all about man, man’s emotions, intimate desires, pain, hysteria, tranquillity, lust, love, frustration, liberation and indifference. musiK is the search for oneself; musiK is the search in itself. musiK is mankind at his very best.

Keep true to the dreams of your youth.

sometimes the masterpiece, after it comes to life, doesn't acknowledge or thank the creator, and that can make the creator feel used. 

certain words have a spatial echo for me.

time
space
infinity
large
small
echo
energy
feeling
universe
connection
lost
night
sleep
dream
shadow

more than anything it's just sad. i'm thankful for the memories. i'm thankful for the experience. he's a good person. there was no loss of love. it's just...i don't know...life. sometimes you have to step aside and let god do his job.

waiting for answers that will never come, for a person who was never there, for a promise of truth as empty as the dreamer's eyes.

i put all of my faith in a carrot.

"what is it that i'm waiting for?" always a whirlwind of poetry but never an answer. how could i possibly stay when it became too painfully obvious? always a "wait and see...it's coming," always in the horizon. never a reality. i think the truth is, there never was a place for me. i was led on. i was manipulated. i allowed myself to become blinded by my own dreams to dismiss the glaring signs. there is no one sadder about it than me. but i stood up.

why, in the face of the obvious, is it so difficult for me to believe in never? my fatal flaw is that i believe in the impossible. i believe in miracles. i'm not going to throw out the good with the bad. i'm just going to trust myself more next time.

"what's financially?"

i've decided to post things i've been keeping private the last couple of weeks. why hold it in? enjoy.