Quarter can of Coke
A half dollar and some change
Iconic sugar
Holiday work week
Post-apocalypse office
Workplace solitude
Meat tenderizer
Consumer-grade wood chipper
Soft particle steak
Discarded cable
Still in bag, bound by bread-tie
Junk drawer inmate
He she you we they
A carnival caravan
All in together
Unintended act
Bounced once after hitting floor
Severed fingertip
Mr street sign man
He's observed and recognized
Stoic and unfazed
One hundred four keys
A to zero to space bar
QWERTY, if you wish
Friday, December 27, 2013
Thursday, December 26, 2013
You Know What I Mean?
On the surface, I like to believe I mean well and in the ongoing search and definition of my life's meaning, I have made it a habit to actively contemplate/capture that meaning, at times in the immediate then and there and at other times in a more cumulative fashion. While I've done my best to be honest and forthcoming, one can argue that complete objectivity is impossible, due to the simple fact that I'm me and even with a well-lit mirror, I don't always see all of myself.
One of the primary purposes of this blog is to attain a bit of that objectivity by putting myself out there and moving on, then reviewing and critiquing the me that was/is and hopefully realizing and enacting the necessary changes to effectively continue "meaning well". I bring up the topic of "criticism" because when hindsight is brought into the equation, we inevitably find that some of those well-meant intentions go sour. The amateur therapist in me (using the title as evidence) loves nothing more than going back over past entries and mining for golden nuggets of wisdom that will lead to solutions to yesterday's/today's/tomorrow's problems, but that's rarely the case. What I've typically found is that I've merely got wild dreams of romance and fantasy that come out in wordy posts and poetic jibberish.
What am I getting at? I'm not sure, but I've had a lot of free time lately and a lot of that time has been spent looking for meaning in various angles of my life story and I seem to keep coming up short. Short of what? The same meaning that philosophers and great minds have filled volumes with various thoughts and opinions while still coming up short of a consensus. When I put it to myself in that light, I begin to realize that while I'm not wasting my time, I'm joking and essentially lying to myself if I ever think I'm going to find a single or definite meaning to anything I see/think/do... life is far too infinite to ever be pigeonholed.
So, with all that said, I guess you nor I know what I mean.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
4
Number 4. Those are words I never thought would apply to me, yet its not really a surprise now that its here, considering that I... continue to credit myself for intelligence that's not really there... continue to turn a blind eye to the obvious... and continue to think and act like I'm in a position to give advice and judge, when its pretty clear how much of a directionless plop I have become at the tender age of 37.
"4" refers to a situation I'm currently mired in, thanks to my dear associate, alcoholism. A dear associate that has stuck by me through thick and thin, in good times and bad, and for all intensive purposes, is bound and determined to be there "till death do us part". Depending on the day and mood, I have called it far worse things and conversely, have even joked about it's place in my life, which is probably one of the many reasons I'm writing about this subject instead of sharing my thoughts on something else, such as... the sand in Barbados.
On one hand, I almost fear putting down additional words about this topic for the same reason reason kids are scared to say "Bloody Mary" or "CandyMan" and that's the fear it may show itself again. On the other hand, burying it (along with other things) has allowed it to become a festering parasite that has made me into a shell of what I believe I am capable of being.
And it's at this point that I need to say "Whoa". Take it down a notch and re-read the first paragraph. The whole mantra of perpetuation is what needs to be interrupted before the count increases. Maybe even blogging is counter-productive, because it continues the trend of self-talk that has me trying to self-diagnose myself. Whatever the solution may be... what I'm doing isn't it.
So I've started to believe and live the cliches (keep it simple... one day at a time... we have twice as many ears as mouths for a reason - one should be used twice as much as the other). They say a lot more than I've said over the span of this post and this entire blog. And while I'm obviously sorting through a lot and still feel like a bit of a directionless plop today, I'm not limiting myself because of "4". It's happened and it's a significant hurdle, but it's not the end. Its going to only be what I allow it to be and what I decide to make of it.
"4" refers to a situation I'm currently mired in, thanks to my dear associate, alcoholism. A dear associate that has stuck by me through thick and thin, in good times and bad, and for all intensive purposes, is bound and determined to be there "till death do us part". Depending on the day and mood, I have called it far worse things and conversely, have even joked about it's place in my life, which is probably one of the many reasons I'm writing about this subject instead of sharing my thoughts on something else, such as... the sand in Barbados.
On one hand, I almost fear putting down additional words about this topic for the same reason reason kids are scared to say "Bloody Mary" or "CandyMan" and that's the fear it may show itself again. On the other hand, burying it (along with other things) has allowed it to become a festering parasite that has made me into a shell of what I believe I am capable of being.
And it's at this point that I need to say "Whoa". Take it down a notch and re-read the first paragraph. The whole mantra of perpetuation is what needs to be interrupted before the count increases. Maybe even blogging is counter-productive, because it continues the trend of self-talk that has me trying to self-diagnose myself. Whatever the solution may be... what I'm doing isn't it.
So I've started to believe and live the cliches (keep it simple... one day at a time... we have twice as many ears as mouths for a reason - one should be used twice as much as the other). They say a lot more than I've said over the span of this post and this entire blog. And while I'm obviously sorting through a lot and still feel like a bit of a directionless plop today, I'm not limiting myself because of "4". It's happened and it's a significant hurdle, but it's not the end. Its going to only be what I allow it to be and what I decide to make of it.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Wolf!!!!!
Have I screamed "wolf" enough that now no one gives a shit when I disappear? Is it really what I want unconsciously? How does one remake them self and is it possible for me?
All questions that have been rattling 'round the peanut gallery over the last few days.
In other news... I'm getting closer to the end of "In Cold Blood" and and much like "The Stranger", the underlying concept of human disconnect seems to be playing out in real life. Granted, both novels also revolve around murder, which is "not playing at this cinema", but the fact that the two books I just so happen to pick up and maintain interest in contain characters with a waning interest in their fellow man is not lost in coincidence.
Skipping to weather... I know that without drink, I'm generally a pretty introverted (emotional time bomb) person and with, I'm fun for a limited time until I inevitably drown sensibility and become "SuperFuck"... Which ties back to the lead-in and convinces people to grow tired of the schtick and move on past the accident.
As you can tell from my rambling... This isn't the most thought out post, but its been that kind of period where I need to see my thoughts on paper and don't feel like FB is the proper channel.
Whether I follow through and re-medicate myself or see how life in a self-imposed exile plays out is yet to be determined, but these are uncharted waters and I'm hoping that by leaving some floating bits behind... I can find my way back, if that's what's in the cards.
Wolf!
All questions that have been rattling 'round the peanut gallery over the last few days.
In other news... I'm getting closer to the end of "In Cold Blood" and and much like "The Stranger", the underlying concept of human disconnect seems to be playing out in real life. Granted, both novels also revolve around murder, which is "not playing at this cinema", but the fact that the two books I just so happen to pick up and maintain interest in contain characters with a waning interest in their fellow man is not lost in coincidence.
Skipping to weather... I know that without drink, I'm generally a pretty introverted (emotional time bomb) person and with, I'm fun for a limited time until I inevitably drown sensibility and become "SuperFuck"... Which ties back to the lead-in and convinces people to grow tired of the schtick and move on past the accident.
As you can tell from my rambling... This isn't the most thought out post, but its been that kind of period where I need to see my thoughts on paper and don't feel like FB is the proper channel.
Whether I follow through and re-medicate myself or see how life in a self-imposed exile plays out is yet to be determined, but these are uncharted waters and I'm hoping that by leaving some floating bits behind... I can find my way back, if that's what's in the cards.
Wolf!
posted from Bloggeroid
Sunday, July 21, 2013
I am the loveless beast
Becoming more and more withdrawn and alienating. Starting to feel like a Radiohead song... Faint eerie background with a rushed heartbeat, all narrated by Thom Yorke's unmistakable wail. From drunkenly roaming dark city streets to short-term self imprisonment, I feel like a loveless beast that people abhor, with good reasons.
posted from Bloggeroid
Monday, July 1, 2013
Something About Mondays...
Contemplation... About the speed of time as I age... About what I'm becoming (and what I haven't)... About the "observation" that white girls with naturally black hair seem to have a higher degree of "diva" than those without... About today's music generally sucking the ass of that which I heard growing up... About the temperature difference between my living room and my porch... About my evolution from a "boobs guy" to an "ass man" (one is far harder to fake than the other and I'm all for natural beauty)... About the fact that a majority of my posts come on Monday... About the rancid smell of stale cat urine... About seeing a new shade of color, simply by having a zen moment with nature... About finding a better purpose for Mondays than sitting around and pissing and moaning about them.
Happy Monday
Happy Monday
posted from Bloggeroid
Monday, June 24, 2013
Disclaimer:
The two earlier posts are not any indication of my current state of mind... They do however reflect a point-in-time of mine, so they do deserve a place in my "therapy session".
With that said, I'd be lying if I claimed I haven't posted any recent updates due to being "cured". Far from it, but have come to the realization that there is no fix for "life". It's been more of a gradual development of a comprehensive emotional toolbox that I'm sure many of my peers have attained and have been more than willing to let me borrow from in the past, but were of no use until I figured how to acknowledge and utilize them.
In the aim of keeping this post concise, yet introspective, I'll finish with the following:
No destination
My hand riding waves of wind
I'll know once I'm there
With that said, I'd be lying if I claimed I haven't posted any recent updates due to being "cured". Far from it, but have come to the realization that there is no fix for "life". It's been more of a gradual development of a comprehensive emotional toolbox that I'm sure many of my peers have attained and have been more than willing to let me borrow from in the past, but were of no use until I figured how to acknowledge and utilize them.
In the aim of keeping this post concise, yet introspective, I'll finish with the following:
No destination
My hand riding waves of wind
I'll know once I'm there
posted from Bloggeroid
cost of delay
1989's film "Do the Right Thing" was/is one of my favorite films. I feel it captures the daily turmoil that was experienced by those living in the general vicinity of HATE, SUFFERING, and RACISM and those who continually choose to see our country as a place where a son/daughter of a "citizen" can BE ALL THEY WANT TO BE. THE MOVIE starts with Mookie who is portrayed as a synopsis of all that's good and bad (pre-marital sex, economical settlement, repressed capability), yet decides it's worthy to carry on.
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