It comes at me like the season. In full-force. Unforgiving. And despite the cyclic repetitions, still completely by surprise. Is it negative times negative? or negative plus negative? Which one was it that worked again? I'm still blurry on the mechanics of it all. **
There are some things that the eyes cannot pierce. And some things are just piercing on the whole. Leave the trash somewhere else, please. It is not ours to pick up.
People and their assumptions. So there's this new challenge for the year: just leave it to themselves. What is it about people and their misunderstandings that have always annoyed me, anyway? It makes me want to pull my hair, but, fuck, if people are naturally inclined to be wrong, then so be it. At that point, it shouldn't be any of my business anymore. Balloon anchored to a rock. Either I untie the string, or I take the rock with me.
But what of truth? It's a disgrace to the discipline to just let it off like that; just let it masquerade around town as Fact. **
Sidenote: The only thing I like about that new song from Chicosci is the video.
Some days I think of the Big Fruits and wonder if it's all that important, if having all of them at mediocrity is enough, or if having two out of three or three out of five is enough for me to feel satisfied. And some days I yield and think it's ok to have them all at this pace, or have all but one. But then, ultimately, I think my pride is a bit too great for me to accept the fact that I can't have everything at their absolute greatest. I refuse to be enough or just-ok or second-best or second-choice. I refuse to think that it's ok to float over the bar. I refuse to think about the glass ceiling and the possibility of having limitations. Of running out of potential. Of seeing so many versions of yourself disappear because of prior inactivity or complacence or whatnot. I want it all. I want them all. Love, Career, Friends, Unending talent, the Life, Everthing. All the things people said you couldn't have all at once. I want them all in my tiny hand. This is a declaration of war against the world.
Like any short stint, any traces of it should be absorbed, savored, and then burned.
**
I suppose I should feel some sort of loss, but it's just thoughts and it's always just there I suppose. It's something I've been thinking about for awhile. So what of written 'legacies'? What's the big deal? When it's crossed a certain line, when the words start becoming theirs, for them, then. Burn, babeh, burn.
**
It's so strange. LJ is like my breeding post of 'imissthis' and 'imissthat'.
Laptop crashed. Losing 5 years worth of files and pictures and writings and whateverelse. Ironically, blogdrive is what I have left of the whole period.o.o
