Arrival

Glossy eyed he looks to the window where daylight spangles the green growth of leaves across the parking lot. The early morning birds mock him and he rolls over to go to sleep, waiting for relief from the troubles of his life, waiting for the right moment to hit the big time in a world where everyone else has done what’s already done.

The sunshine has been extolled, the games have been made, the thoughts already thunk, nothing remains for him. His hobbies remain as augmented jewels in his crown, the sweat on his forehead is for his garden alone and his misplaced dreams stalk the fields of his mind like whistling stone titans in the dark rain.

Were they dreams or expectations?

All the while a calm voice eternally tells him, too softly to surmount the churning wash of intricate internet data and jabbering movies and maddening music, and fear. It is too soft to hear until he quiets his mind, faces his feelings like a stalwart rock in the ocean surf. Only when he lets the ride play out can he hear her in his mind…

And he finds a kind of peace. A small kernel of what cannot be touched, cannot be beaten down, will not yield to the pounding waves, the moving birds, the thunk thoughts. Each day he finds it harder to find, each day the weeds grow taller and he forgets to make the journey to the place of purity where the titans never walked. And in clarity like a gong, his body relaxes and he gets out of bed and makes coffee.

Suit.

So for the past week and a half I’ve been hibernating within a large comforter and youtube. I did not see the light of the sun for easily four days and resolved that the world would carry on just fine without me and that the source of all my problems was just from getting too involved with the people of planet earth and thus resolved to ignore the world completely. I watched a lot of this rpg stream thing called Thrilling Intent and kind of let that influence the in-and-out-dream-states I periodically went through. I figure if people spend all day doing drugs and whatnot, what would be wrong with dissociating time and reality for a long time with just my brain mind’s stories to entertain me. At least before immediately having amnesia about whatever glorious adventures i was going on in my dream states.
I’d be brought back from dreams with this great feeling of happiness and fulfillment and a glimmer of maybe a memory, but like everything it fades before I can grasp what it was that gave me this good feeling. Then I would go back into remembering that I was ignoring everyone and the regrets of messed up social situations and ruined relationships start all over again with vivid detail and I go back to telling myself i just need to stop with people and ignore the world.
I had all this free time and I used the excuse that i was feeling sick to completely put off having to deal with any engagements of any kind. I haden’t seen the doctor in a while, the dentist keeps calling me, and I have to write a bunch of content, and it’s all hanging over me in a cloud of anxiety, but i just resolve to continue watching trailer park boys for another four hours as time goes on outside my little world.
By the fourth day my mind was consumed by the finite nature of life and death.
Anyway thank jebus I had to go to work at my minimum wage job eventually, or I’d still be there wasting away. The biggest thing that keeps me from going outside is that I wonder what I’m going to do out there in the world. I feel way better when I just pick something and do it.Today I decided to play dress up and I put on a shirt with a tie and wore my Grand Pa’s old trench coat just to go to the library to get work done (those four walls in my house are a place of insanity now), yet wearing the suit jacket also had another effect, I gained a +2 adult status and made appointments with my doctor and dentist after calling my boss about schedule stuff. My second advice would be dress like you’re the shit and you will feel like the shit and other people will be like “right this way sir” when you talk to them.
Anyway I put my adult clothes on and felt better, I even did a little song and dance with my grandpa’s jacket on about how much of an adult I am. It went something like this:

Look at me,
I’m An Adult,
Look at me,
I’m an Adult,
getting stuff done,
woohoo!

 

Childeren’s book idea.

Today is another day
By this guy

Hey, it’s okay, today is another day!

To live and learn and find a new way,

To do all those things you’re good at,

like walk and run and jump and play!

To see all the people that you know go about their day,

and say hi to them as they go on their way.

Odillaly! Callooh Calay!

Enjoy the time while they have it to stay,

performing life’s little goshdarned play

while the cold embrace of the universe surrounds you

and strips away your ego

turning your vibrant achievement’s to particulates of grey,

Swaddles you in the comfort of nothing

and upends your hopeful attempts to survey

 

Titanic gulfs of interest amid existential parlays

Trying to chase your “true” potential day after day after day after day after day after day after day after day:
until the sound of that word makes you sick to your stomach and you realize that it’s all just time happening, night day it has no real meaning than it’s direct effect on when we do stuff and it’s all slipping away into the vast cauldren of bubbling something while our microscopic world spins through space around a small blip of light which is fifty million times bigger than the bacteria that live in our stomachs to help us digest cuz we’re an entire ecosystem, yeah OUR BODIES ARE AN ECOSYSTEM for small organisms who meet the same requirements for life as us because we can’t rationally draw a line (I guess it’s somewhere around viruses but that’s beside the point because the fucking scope of small things to big things is so mind boggling that I’m jaded to everything else now and I don’t know what has value anymore so I latch onto set ideals of what should be values and smoke and drink to relax myself from that constant factor and don’t close parentheticals because barriers are an illusion….

um

….But hey, It’s okay, today is another day

To make the story change

to figure out a better way

to laugh and love and jump and play

Odillaly! Callooh Calay!

Today is another day.

“Hey what’s up?”

I’m so bad at people and making decisions….but don’t feel bad for me, I don’t think I deserve it …oh god now I’m saying too much and you’re all looking at me and now I don’t know what to say cuz it’s just gonna dig a deeper hole where it gets complicated and people will want more explanations or to comfort me or they just won’t care at all and I don’t know if I can bear it if I say all this stuff and put myself and my feelings out on the line and then getting nothing in return but blankness and whatever because I equate people liking me to my own self worth and I can’t help it and I end up ashamed of myself for even bothering because I’ll know people will be making opinions of me based on what I say like “looking for attention” or “wow that’s sad” or even “What’s wrong” which are stuff that I think about other people sometimes because I’m selfish and I constantly need validation, but don’t bother  to validate others all the time, but they might not even want my validation cuz why would they have the same issues as me? and I’m not asking for you to care or worry about me because those are all the sorts of things I don’t want because I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m okay, don’t worry about me or think about me but DON’T GO AWAY because I’m afraid of dying alone and being alone and dying in general, but I keep making mistakes and driving people  away and why cant everyone just get off of eachother’s case and maybe I’m just on my own case or everyone is a jury and they are constantly standing over me to the point where all of humanity is just this faceless black shadow shrouding out the sky beyond it’s horrid godlike eye that looks at me when I go to a bar or walk down the street or register to vote and it watches me telling me I’m not worth your time because I’ve fucked up so many times before and it’s going to happen again and I don’t know if the eye is right or if I make it right because I don’t want to fail and I want people to like me because I validate myself by people liking me and I can’t keep track of everyone or even want to keep tabs on people or be involved with people because of the jury shadow eye thing and the longer time I spend with people the easier it is for me to hurt them because I’m bad at people and making decisions…but don’t feel bad for me, i don’t think I deserve it…now I’ve said too much the hole is very deep now and I don’t know if I have some kind of problem but all the online tests I take say that I’m positively average and on the one hand that should be good but a uniqueness is necessary to stay sane and I wanna believe that I’m special like my momma would say but I’m not special and that’s okay I’m fine with that so I’m all myself and If I’m supposed to be average that might mean that most people have the same thoughts as me and that means that they can maybe relate to having thoughts like me and maybe that might mean that….something. So anyway…no I’m gud.

The Lamp Struggle

I see an old man and his wife with a large, heavy looking lamp, reminiscent of the old time gas lamps that lined the streets of Paris in a time before our exploitation of electricity.

With the stand and it’s cumbersome head, easily ten pounds apiece, the man removes it gingerly from the trunk of his silver CRV under the watchful gaze of his wife. I can already see that their intended desire is to sell the lamp is folly. A red sign on the front door of the seldom frequented lamp place across the street states -CLOSED- which now at second glance does actually appear to say -OPEN-.

The man’s legs aren’t what they used to be; he shuffles slowly, but not as slow as others his age might be. His bald head is surrounded by a half circle of frosty hair. With their pace, the man with the lamp, the elderly wife behind him, make their way up the rough concrete stairs: pushed and warped by the grassy hill in front of the old store, attempting to devour all human constructs.
The man pants, battling the growing realization that his carrying days are numbered. Step by step, he makes it, leading his wife from the car to the stairs in the hill.

His wife fusses over something in her bag as the man makes for the door. Before he can reach it, the wife stops and says something along the lines of “I forgot (this or that) at home.”

The man with the lamp turns and irritably talks with her yet only with the kind of anger that comes from the burden of a heavy lamp and annoyance with a loved one.

Anyway, whatever problem occurred, the  two continue along the overgrown concrete towards the door, the old man lugging the heavy lamp, the old woman right behind him until they finally see the entrance which bears the sign. On third glance it must say closed after all. The two stand side by side as though the world has dropped away from them. At first thought to me, it is that they cannot fathom the sign being on display, but more likely they are reading the open/closed times.

Side by side they stand at the door as though something may occur to make it open.

Alas, it is fruitless, and although there is no outward showing of emotion, I get the feeling that the old man is annoyed in that way of a working person, always willing to take the burden but unhappy over futility in it. His world becomes that of Sisyphus in an instant.  The woman is filled with the void of reality, of unhinged plans and wasted time. Just for a moment,

the time it takes for them to make their way back to the trunk of the CRV and stow the heavy lamp for another day.

Good & Evil Rush tomorrow

So for a while I’ve been working on this comic, It involves two foxes who may or may not be representing Yin and Yang as they try to deal with themselves and the world around them in parallel adventures.

The vast majority is not online but I do have a website where I plan to rectify that: http://goodevilcomic.com/

Tomorrow from 4:00pm to some time later (eastern US time) I’m going to be uploading a new page every half hour. If you would like to see it from the beginning here’s the link: http://goodevilcomic.com/comic/good-evil-chapter-1-title/

If you enjoy my writing, this comic is little more than a visual story, and I mean that because you need to have an open mind when looking at my drawings 😛

If you like Consider Subtlety please also follow Good and Evil. You wont be disappointed.

SCAN0001

In a room Trying to quit smoking.

The therapist let Fred take any seat he wanted. Fred was afraid of being “The Guy”  seeing a therapist and laying on the cushioney couch like some kind of cleshe so he went to the chair by his desk.

“You can begin anytime” The therapist said.

Fred began to speak, but somehow, now the image of laying on the cushony couch seemed comfortable to him so he got up, still talking and laid down. Until that point he was only covering how he’d been and little facts about his life. But on the couch he felt snug and comfortable enough to really talk. Fred was a poet, and fancied that he would have been a good actor if he had applied himself to it. So naturally he had a flair for drama and big words. he spoke like this:

“I’m so plagued with desire.” he said “It’s a nagging; it’s an unstoppable torrent of Introspective meanderings, whimpering on gripping vices of whims. That-  that desire can be as indomitable as some monolithic Buddha with the grey stone power to crush me one moment, and then in the next moment just seem like wisps welling on the wind”

The therapist nodded knowingly as Fred thought for a moment.

“What could conjure such a comical horror as to supplant a mind to chase desires and thoughts from one extreme to the other in this….It can only be a comedy. Life is just a satire of itself, our fleeting emotions and problems, our tragedies and dilemmas, are just the dilemmas of ants.

Truly, I hope that while i’m trying to grasp my desires or hold back on their pull with the madness of some kinda lone waiter trying to serve the world, that something cosmic is laughing at me. Then at least I’d know i’m doing something good.”

Fred stared at the ceiling as he spoke.

“When in a lonely night, the rising thoughts, and the panic, and the naked truth of my being arises from the distractions of the world… and I shudder without anyplace to cower; when you compare that to a warm night with the closeness of another and my mind is propped up with a fools superiority, I hope that something somewhere enjoys the way I defeat myself.”

The therapist nodded knowingly. Fred had tears in his eyes and reached out his hand as if yearning for a gossamer ribbon.

“In a morning wilder, to bathe in satisfaction It is to live like the beasts inside and remain, lost from the world beyond our eyes, lost from the higher order that we ideally strive for. Letting go of it where the memory reminds us and persuades back to the coveted halls of loving self destruction.

It’s such tangled web of this and that.

And I cant tell you why I enjoy that. I get the web. I see how it all connects and how we pull on one string and it pulls another. But I cant explain it. And so we hide with vice and beer and acts and demeanor which proves only to the world. I need to prove things to myself.”

The therapist nodded knowingly before Fred lifted himself from the couch on his arm.

“It’s just that life IS so unfair. People had told me that all my life, i just never realized how unfair it was until now.” Fred was sweating. “Listen doc, I gotta be honest with you.”

“Hmm?” the Therapist said.

“I really want a smoke.”

The therapist nodded knowingly before leaning back in his swivel chair. It was the old metal kind with the cushon and it squeaked with an awful noise. “Well Fred, you admitted yourself into this program because you wanted results, and cold turkey is how you wanted to do it.”

Fred wiped his eyebrow. “I know that, but I…I changed my mind.”

The therapist nodded knowingly.

“Did you hear me doc, I CHANGED MY MIND!”

The Therapist leaned forward before saying “You’re not in control of your mind anymore.”

He pushed a button and two men came in and took Fred away as he kicked and screamed, back to his cell.

Choices

Sometimes you wonder what choices you could have made and if that might have changed your entire reality, who knows how different the world could have been if you decided to go that other route. Well you didn’t. You went the way that it is now, maybe that’s a depressing thought, maybe its a happy thought. Perhaps It’s just neutral. But there is no way t really know just how different things could have been, they could have been better or like a million times worse than things are now. But that’s okay, because that means that right now is the best balance between extremes.

But there is another thought…what if making that choice that would have shattered you out of whatever funk, maybe that choice that you think ruined everything, what if going a different way would have changed nothing, and through all manner of convoluted happenings, the same overall outcome would still be happening to you.

I guess that really boils down to whether you think time and plans and our choices are already planned out for us or if we are actually changing anything. Well I mean we are changing things, but weather we have a choice in the matter is up for debate. Well we don’t have a choice to change things or not, because by the mere fact of us being born we changed someone’s life. We were never given a choice to be alive wherever we are as far as I can remember.

When I was little I thought about the idea that all the babies were hanging out in heaven, or maybe all the dead people in heaven…I was raised christian until my whole family just stopped caring…That all the people in heaven would choose where they would want to be born, and then they would fly down and…be born. It was like a big thing of musical chairs where everybody took a turn being dead and then being born. It didn’t stop with just people either, if you wanted to reborn as a cat or a giraffe you could do that. Morality of whether you were good or bad never factored into my vision of souls jumping back and forth from the afterlife to life-life. I guess this means that my particular view of reincarnation would not have been a practical religion, but perhaps a basis for one.

Point being that religions are meant to give people an ideal of morality and fend off the existential crisis of life. But in the idea that I had meant that choice didn’t really matter. Any creature on earth (my theory never expanded to alien planets) was just as good a choice as any other, and whatever you picked was really just to enjoy living life in a different form. Then you died and got to say “well I’ve been a fox, how about an amoeba?” .  The reason none of us would remember our past lives  while living was a necessity to really live life as whatever creature you chose. Up in heaven you would remember all of them.

It was a nice thought. But the thing was I think I actually believed it for a time and it affected the way I see choices in general. Of course later in life a helping of psychoactive drugs would also change my worldview, but the point I’m trying to make I guess is that we don’t really know what’s behind the scenes, what we can perceive and what we cant, what’s happened and what we remember. Anything we have instilled in our mind as “a way things are” or “A way things are supposed to be”  we had no choice in being told those things.

All you can really choose is to be afraid of the future, or have faith in the future, to regret the past or accept it. Being cynical is a foolish way to seem smart for no reason other than to change the opinions of others.

I guess I don’t really have a point. But I hope you have a good day.

Bigger things on my mind.

Okay, so lets say that I find someone who I love, whatever love really means, and lets say I spend my time with that person and we hold hands and laugh and carry on with fulfilling each others’ sexual fantasies  and all that jazz. I know eventually what that leads to is having some kind of offspring, and that involves creating a new person, and that person makes more people, and more people keep making more people and that keeps fucking over the earth until there are no resources left and everything dies.

I guess there is adoption, but that’s like the same thing.

I mean it’s a selfish thing to say that what genes i put in are gonna lead to the kid who grows up to solve all the fuckn’ problems. most people don’t try to solve any problems.

No, it;s better off that I just don’t get involved, if I just don’t look for anyone, I’ll just devote my time to my work, writing things and traveling, and writing about traveling. making up stories and commenting on the status quo with my own observation and ending up poor homeless and broke, but maybe somewhere cool where they still respect hobos.. maybe Australia, or Iceland.

I’ll just devote myself to something, and even if it changes nothing at least I can say, “hey I did that stuff at least”

Maybe when I’m dead people will see some stuff in something somewhere. After the internet is gone and some some scrap of paper with something I scribbled on when I felt the pangs of loneliness and the crushing embrace of the voidy aspects of existence, maybe someone will find that and suddenly the conundrum of their life is made clear and they have some kind of zen style enlightenment and that person goes on to lead what remains of humanity back to a civilization but without the folly of our ways and that awesome civilization, inspired by a poem I wrote, goes on to create technology and culture that our primitive, unenlightened minds could never comprehend like…fuckn…mind..wave…power, or maybe they discover the latent powers humanity has that we just forgot.

Maybe they go on to space  somehow and create new planets with different evolutionary timelines that lead to all wonderment of fantastical species of plants and animals, like talking dogs or sentient daises, and all the people aren’t ashamed of themselves and run around the grass all naked in the sun and shit because no one is sexualized or unsightly in the awesome culture of people and sentient daisy-dogs, but like all the people still get it on (consensually) however they want because they can all tell eachothers’ thoughts. Stuff we would think is really weird and taboo would be totally cool because we are all just temporary beings in a fluctuating world…and..

well that’s why I think we should be seeing other people.