I am not entertained
by the weak-willed women
and the foolish men
and the stories on loop
strings begging to crawl into each other
this annoyance with all this repetition
is toxic
When did this blog get so damn angsty?-.-' NO MORE! LIFE IS GOOD GODDAMNIT!!-.-'
Love is a tricky thing to write about. Personally. It's just too intertwined with all its other components and I'm too intertwined with those intertwinings that when one thought comes, it quickly finds itself buried among the others. Hence the lack of posts. I'm too caught up with my own thoughts on the matter that I find it hard to write about anything substantial. My folders are empty with half-written prose. Must. push. against. this. mind. barrier. More than ever I feel like Yamada. Second season. I don't hate it; hate takes up way too much energy for me to want to contain it in myself. I'd just actually like it to casually drift away. But the problem with the stories I cling on to is that there's always this external figure who comes along and slowly fills up the buzzing space. But I refuse to feel any better that way. Waiting for someone to eventually take up my attention is like being in the hospital and waiting for the crutch to help me home. The crutch is used. And I'm still walking on one leg. Why can't they ever be ok on their own? Why do they need to give in to the distraction anyway?
**
I keep on going back to Wikipedia half-expecting the stories to progress differently.
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.
