The only solace is this, writing... whittling away, no longer with an audience but like a madman who keeps talking when the curtains long been drawn. It's not even 7 yet and I've already eaten. For what, for survival I guess. Nothing quite like the illusion of necessity. I'm most definitely a stubborn fuck...

every moment of comfort....

is marred by the thought of her. I love it, really, right now I do. Even post mortem for this link to have such an effect is.... lovely.

I was on a path of self improvement today, that was nice, and finally i ate something that i didn't immediately want to throw back up. First time in a week! I totally killed those cold dumplings. man.... that was good.

the teethering between wanting to call her... especially right now when she's close by, is torture not unlike my forays into fitness like i just had today, only mental. Pain! moooooore pain! yes!

Love it. Live it, all hail The Divine

To Choose or not the choose

to feel, is it a choice? I tell myself that sometimes, but sometimes I feel like I must be lying. Well someone's gotta be lying and it's most likely me.

it doesn't get any easier. It hasn't been long at all. I want to write her so much. I want to hear from her, rather, much more than I'd like to write. short notes, long letters, it doesn't matter. This must be what hopelessness feels like. Have I really ever been hopeless before? I suppose I have and will be again.

I don't want to be a footnote but that is who I am now, isn't it. I wonder...

It's difficult to have a strategy when you're not sure whether your weakness is your weakness or your strength is your weakness. Maybe they're all weaknesses and she simply sees something that you do not. I wonder if I can develop to see hers. Actually that is a moot point. I like her faults. But she doesn't like mine I guess. there lies the real difference...

I made an Estella

well, that's a lie, first of all. I merely encouraged one, like I always said I wanted to. So how'd it turn out? Was it everything I dreamt it'd be? I suppose It Is. It's lovely to see, actually, even if the frinedly fire got into my own yard.... ha.

Always a funny side, always a bright side... It is ironic, really, that I get what I ask for. Maybe I should ask for a car that I don't need that people get when they go through their midlife crisis, eh? Well Actually I'm not that kinda vain, yet.

"I heard there was a secret chord, that David played and it pleased the Lord..." There's always music to drown in, at least. I wonder how I became this way, to let myself be affected so... to have been... annoying to the one I care so much for... I'm coming this close... to regreting, but I won't... A man's gotta have some principles, after all.

a cold and a broken hallelujah indeed... I'm reminded of the repetition of prayers. I was looking forward to the meditation too. I suppose there never was a point. To have wanted to share something of oneself, only... it's not an exchange. Maybe that's why we will never understand those tears of heaven when they do rain down. There's simply too much "I".

I'm not quite used to this much self doubt. Could I have done anything differently? No. Could she? No. So why the questioning? Only natural to second guess, but this is not the sign of the enlightened man. Yet I relish it. Maybe it is only in this way do I remember her as reality, and not a character from a book, not just as... print, images, scent, but a moving, able, sentient being.

Maybe I ought to though, so much print... A book character, a literary character I can feel for, and long for, and put on hold. How many days has passed, not even a week. Yet it feels like an eternity... How long will another 4 last... they say there's nothing longer than the infinity, yet 4 or 5 times seems awfully longer than just one span. What is to be done? All this nothing is wearing on me. I wonder if this is how Atlas felt, standing on the nothingness.

Though I have to say... to miss someone... hurts so good.

tale as old as time

I just watched Beauty and the Beast... for the first time in years. It makes me cry. I do love the idea... ha ha, how silly it is, but I love it! To Love is to sacrifice, and I will do what makes her happy. That is my nature and I'm not sorry for it.

6 months of bewilderment

what a torrid turn of affairs. Was it to be missed instantly? or hardly? I don't think it's within me to miss anything hardly. Were the others right? Was I so wrong? In the words of the flighty "as, if". I blame my mom, I think that's where I get this stubborness from... thank god she's strong, hopefully I got that too.

I can honestly say it's not the time for initial reactions anymore. A few days has passed since the marking of yet another chapter, always on that day... the irony has not eluded me... Still, at least it makes things easy to remember. The shock wore off, though the side effects remain to be seen.

I will not be sucked into the cycle. It must be me. I know this. I could have been a bigger person, a kinder person, a nobler person, a stronger person. And I will be. Even if... it does no good. God i hate those jackasses who're always positive and shit, but no no, this is not what I'm doing. Only simply this, I have a reason to be good, to be better, and not perpetuate a vicious cycle.

So the wind turned into a snowstorm that blindsided me, because I refuse to open my eyes and see no evil. I shall give her fairer motives, nobler roots. Is it more than she deserves? could I have been mistaken? I think not. My Divine cannot be mistaken.

so bewildered I was, but clarity I've always had, perhaps because I'm dumb... But I'm willing to take that risk.

Faith

tonight i saw La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc overlayed with a real orchestra and singers too.... it was.... awesome... I suppose for once I'm glad I'm in NYC.

But what I noted is this, in the things that move me the consistency is always in the faith. It didn't matter that I thought the sacraments silly or the heroine simple. Perhaps I am silly too and simple as well. It's all right. I can live with simplicity and even to some degree ignorance. Maybe I don't want to think too hard on this question, for the Divine always requires... faith.

So I have wavered, I admit, and waver I will, in the future. But I do not believe, I'll ever lose it. For my Divine is just as strong, even when I am not. ha. Laugh and laugh and fall apart...

The East Wind

Bright and friendly, like we called the last waking moments of a peanut shell, born and raised the lovable adorations of another penniless vagabond Bond, a martini in hand shaken and stirred to a questionable resolve. Muppet tops and flimsy crops, permeates the air that so luckily abandoned whatever the sense have simmerd to a boil. Perfections and prefects, zoned into a marshmallow joy unforeseen and locked in a Gordian twist. On camera like the rest of the world, blinded by the blank page the heaviest resolve the hip my angel and hop my hearts. I wish Ginsburg was alive to beat on but theresn't a time and a place and a decision to reverse.

I like riddles but I do not like solutions to questions no one asked and there is only a time and a space to remember the fillers and weed out the ones that matters like the form that isn't pertinent and the matter that is work. The am i turning into the thing i hate or am i not the kinda that i loved to begin with question begins and ends in a whimper, an invisible in audible bleep on an LCD. Whereforth has thou gone, period. Long have I gone the path of the righteous and I am tired.

Tired of a virtuous life? when there's nothing left to burn of oneself, but there is always, something the other, the more, the bells, bells, bells, silver bells, like the tinkering of the shells, ever ever, more.

God I was praying to the Divine, as if I've all of a sudden gained faith in the things that I found disappointing, boring, mundane, lame, in other words, the way we describe... the shower. From real love. I sing still

Sometimes I enjoy the silence. I've heard that Silence is Golden, but I think it's closer to Death. Perhaps Silence is Golden Death. Nothing would make me so ill as The Silence. That is the whole point isn't it?

When it is silent, I feel the lines in my head. I can almost picture it looking like a Pollack painting. Random and Variable, the the idea of it is mind boggling and I'm no more pleasant than tortured. But really, let's get real here, what am I tortured about? I'm not even sure. If the feminists can have a "problem with a name" then what do you call whatever everyone else feels anyway?

I felt lost and trembled and spurned and loved and cared for and touched too. I couldn't get away from the term "I" and I did not want to stray too far...

the song goes "live through this, and you won't look back" and I wonder, that if at this indeterminable time frame that make up the moment as I know it in my heart, would i really ever let the past wash over me? Would I not miss the singular lost of heart? The questions bear on me like pigeons over a piece of bread on a hot summer day, pecking away.

at this moment I want to sing, and sing and sing myself away. But I will not raise my voice because my voice is hidden. I have never felt so forlorn and I love it. It is not the end of which, but the beginning of which, like Fenrir swallows the world, like Orisis who needed to be pieced back together, or Horus who did what his predecessor could not. Like to Overthrow, Like to Overcome. It is the most curious kind of silence that dominates my mind. When I close my eyes I could still see the fire. I wanted to know, i wanted to feel, i wanted to long for, to yearn. But what do I know about what I want?

I want all the wrong things because they seem so right. I want the Love the die for but I know I will not. The life with which i was given had not yet come to terms and I do not understand.

The Beauty in not understanding, the beauty in the way we work. I would give anything to retain this ignorance, and give some more. I am fury and calamity and peaceful too. In the you of I, there is no end to the beginning. No hatred or jealousy, no pettiness or the grand, only the Self and I want to snuff it out.

Songs

I love being inspired... the feeling of communion with a song is like, feeling at home, feeling peaceful and chaotic at the same time. It is almost like being in Love though I know that songs only cover the symptoms where as only a bitter dosage of philosophy will cure me at the root. More later

What's beautiful about songs is that I feel inexplicably able to relate to the slightest circumstances that in reality I'd feel nothing for. Locations, names, a series of unfortunate coincidences that might not fit, all are game when sang. I who am too heavily invested in drawing parallels between what is and what should be. Though I probably should mention a song to me doesn't even have to have music. A song is just a conglomeration of words recited or said, as long as it is in a voice that I adore, and I find that I am not so critical as to not be able to adore the simplest and most complex instruments available to us all...

I realized today that I liked to sing but some people's singing is like a moral incursion or repellent to me. Then I realized that my own singing might serve such a purpose to some other schmuck and by this empathization I was sad. Perhaps not all of us are meant to sing, yet I'd like to think that all of us are somehow capable of that yearning that only song and verse can express.

The Bus has been good to me. I think I do some of my finest mind chewing when I'm on the bus from my parents' to my own place. It always brings out the humility in me. Today I had the thought that music must only be like over the counter medicine to me. It certainly makes me feel better, almost consistently. But it's a drug that never seems to make me truly peaceful, or rather, i should say, feel absolutely right. On the other hand there's Philosophy, which I know is rather passive and meaningless to the average bear but those people should be shot anyway so who cares. Maybe it is my earlier brainwashing but I have a heavy conviction that the solution to life lies in the way we live. What is it to want a Virtuous Life? What is it to want to be Divine? I almost used Good for Divine there, but then I realized that my definition of Good blows big chunks for this instance. The fundemental question has long passed the Why am I here? question. That I know, yet the path of illumination eludes me at every turn. I know what Aurelius said, to keep at it, to continuously work at it, as philosophy is indeed a long, long road, not an eureka moment. Sometimes I understand that, sometimes I want instant gratification. But oh am I that American yet?

I fear I've gotten off topic, again, Songs and Verse, the lyricism with which we speak. How I adore thee. How I abhor thee.

and now I want to sleep, and forget.