Monthly Archives: November 2008

There’s beauty in that rotten pomogranate

There’s beauty in that rotten pomogranate, 

Life is full of rotting fruit, gems of the forgotten, jewels of the disguarded, dumpster diving, i come accross such reminders of inner beauty vs asthetics, and it reminds me of those things i fell in love with over time as opposed to instantly. I never liked the smell of ciggarettes, but you, you conditioned my senses to relate the smell of stale butts to youre bedroom, your balconey, your presence, and i cant shake that butterfly stomach effect associated with them. Or is that rather a potential vomit i feel comming up?

We all die. This is true, sometimes we escape taxes, this is also true. Hopefully we each find love, be it in a person, place or thing, and i think we generally do, and those of us who chose to ignore the bruised beaten and decaying intestines of a pomogranate tend to live a much more agonizing life. Notice the usage of the word life as opposed to death, because whether you ignore that innocent beauty or bask in it, you still have to live beside it. Like I will always relate the butts i come accross to you, and youre eternal youth, forever etched in my mind, forever grateful to have had that chance to be with you, at least long enough to learn to love your ugly habits. Those habits that comfort me when youre not around to do it yourself.

One of my co-workers Phil, had a stroke the other day, shes back to work today as void of life as she was while she was convulsing on the floor benieth me, waiting for the paramedics. She makes sloppy melting cakes, nobody touches, cause they look like someone deficated on them, but she always comes in with pearl earings, eye shaddow, and lipstick, as if reaching out to some middle aged man that she still tries to impress, and still begs for their company in her lonely bed at night. She is beautiful, like the pomogranate we spoke of above. 

Another co-worker, my friend kathleen, works with fake flowers all day long, yet longs for the real thing. Dont we all? who can resist the beauty of a fresh flower? Why else did you think they were so popular? Even those who dispise flowers and try their best to convince themselves all day long that flowers are the devils work, know deep down they envy the beauty of a flower. 

When purchased they come in many forms, fresh haircuts, expensive clothes, botox, but do they really bring happiness? however when given, in such forms as double coupons, a fat tip, a smile form the girl in the red dress on the subway train, the comfort of grandmas quilt, they can live on for eternity, etched in the mind as ideas of beauty, as opposed to the real thing which fades. 

Kathleen overcame cancer. her cure in addition to all the modern technology, radiation, gizmos, gadgets, etc, was more her spirit than anything, kathleen is strong, but soft enough to love, and the love she gives, gives back to her threefold, she beat her cancer, or so she tells me, through the shit eating grin on her face, kathleen is pretty in comparrison to phil, she tries to be beautiful, she tries masking herself with flowers, and sometimes its attractive as all flowers can be, but phil, doesnt need flowers, her beauty shines in her graceful dedication, to her peers, to her friends, to her loyalists, 

nobody rode with phil to the hospital, she was alone, and disorented thought it was still 2006 in the back of the ambulance, nobody carried her, cradled her in their arms through the whole ordeal, and now, a week later, shes back at the daily grind. never said a word ton anyone about it, just simply endured a,d drove onward. everforward to her grave, she is beautiful. not because of her servitude to the tainted system, but rather her determination to face the rugged slopes of life doing somersaults, boucne back up, and still feel pretty enough to wear her pearl earrings, even though her face is showing its wear, 

life is fucking tough, and its never getting easier, but i wouldnt have it any other way. ive seen death firsthand on several occasions, stared it dead in the pupil, its cold, its dark, and its lonely, like a johnny cash song, but its not the worst part of life, and i am no longer afraid, thanks to people i meet like phil, who protect me from the fear of death, thanks to my friend the dumpster dived pomogranate, 

and my endless supply of stale cigarette butts, to remind me of you.

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Today I realized. Today I learned something about life. People are cordial, sure, people smile, and pretend to be happy, especially when purchasing some nice shiney item they have absolutely no need for had they been stranded on a beautiful but desolate island somewhere out in the pacific ocean. They bitch when you take too long to ring them up, because waiting in line is the last thing they want when they have this new item they are going to take home play with for a short while, and let the dust bunnies do their work on. 

This is the same for all human interactions. All human related objects of lust, impulsive passion. We breath these “desires” in then exhale them back out again, and the further along we tread in life, the more reliant on impulse we become, and the less we truely long for something, giving it the real passion we would desire. We dont need that wait, the only wait we have these days is in the checkout line. The cashier is the worlds defender of passion, the block, the reason we love our items at all after we purchase them. The cashier is the only person who sees through our bullshit, chooses to ignore it, chooses to ignore that piece of ghiridelli chocklate you just had to have, that bag of candy corn, that pint of ben and jerrys, that condom, that photo of you and your boyfriend going at it, that dildo, that porn magazine. We see life, for the reality it is. Sad, and pitiful.

As a dumpster diver, i have evolved to elude the pretentious cashier, the gatekeeper, i have ridded my life of the majority of my impulse, and i am a happier person because of this. I have spent many a nights looking for something. some item of my desire, my dreams, and when i find it, glory be the day, i can wait forever to find a stash of yogart, a pair of fitting shoes, a decent shirt, a new flashlight, and when i get it the wait makes it even more special to me, and even harder to let go of, but i find a way, since i no longer have to pay homage to the cashier, i give these beloved gifts freely and make even more people happy, you see, happyness can be recycled, as can any other emotion, but why recycle the bad? why give anger and hatrid for christmas, sadness for valentines day? 

I have many theories as to what life is all about, but what i tiihnk it really boils down to is not your 5 mins of fame, but rather your ability to learn the difference between happyness and sadness, anger and pride, these things create a well rounded soul, someone who even with their add, or ocd, or compulsive lieing, or deciet, and so on and so forth can still learn how to recycle the good things in life, 

the planet is going to collapse, it has before, its really not the point, mother nature can take care of herself, but to find a shread of glory, a shard of happiness in the gray is magical, you dont need to go out and buy it, i promise it isnt going to make you happy, it will only occupy your time. 

what you need, is to recycle the things in your life that make you happy to others who are less fortunate. with this your life will be that much better. 

I love you, i miss you, i will never forget you, i may be hurt, i may be jealous, i may be a pain in the ass form time to time, but its going to fade, my memory fades, and i have found thanks to the above, the more i recycle the good, the bad in my life fades away. there has been tons of good in my life, and the bad can never replace it, but the good is what sticks much longer. 

its 7:15 again, and again i ant sleep, i have passed that point several hours ago, thanks in part to my friends on youtube, and other places that keep my mind from sleeping, i dream when im awake through the internet, i love when awake through the internet at times, sometimes more so than in person, now im rambling again. 

maybe someday ill go back and edit these, untill then welcome to my restless mind.

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Im glad your well, im well too…

You know i love you, you can deny it all day long, but at the end of the day you also know why im not with you. You ARE self involved. I treat you like a queen, and you come to expect nothing less. Well, you are not a queen, and i am not always in the mood to treat you as such. And on those days, you shit on me for not being your slave. Fair enough. I still love you. And i still consider you on the top, but im gone, and you are starting over. Good. Im glad. Im happy you can so easily pick up and move forward. By the way, not everything in here is about you. Im sorry if you think i spend my life writing about you. Cause i only spend a portion of it. And even then, most of that is because you pissed me off. And i used writing as an out. We ARE very alike you and I. We both express our frustrations through art. And violence, and crying, and isolated depression. We are each others drug. We create highs , then we fucking crash, then we are addicted to each other. I hate it. I fucking hate being addicted to you. You are my love, you hold my heart, my body, my soul, and even my mind at times, and it consumes me, to the point where i neglect myself. I fucking love you, and i hate what it does to me. I hate being vulnerable, weak, clueless, and i hate playing the veiled fool, and i hate that you have changed so fucking fast, you have turned around, you have been true to me, and i am still suffering from shit that ended ages ago. Why? WHy cant it be like it was when i was stupid? Why do i have to continue to suffer? fucking christ i love you to death, and i cant be with you because i make myself sick around you. You want to talk about torture? this is fucking torture, self imposed torture.

I did my fucking best, i tried so many times, im still fucking trying to change, to get over it, to love you with all my mind all the time as well, but i am weak, and i stab myself, in your name, and slide backwards in therapy.

I want to be with you. i want to love you like i did that first time we met, i want to be ignorant agian, to blindly trust, to boldy share, but i cant, and thats why i left. and thats why i think i should stay gone, we both deserve better, maybe someday i will change, and you will still want me, but i doubt it, as you even said, there are so many other guys that would give you what i gave you, that you can chose from. well, i hope you find your happyness,

in the meantime, im going back to school, im getting a job, im working on my future, and trying my fucking best to not think about this addiction of mine. Im making my life the most important one. No longer someone elses.

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funny the chaos in life

Advertising has its perks, as we all know if you dont advertise you dont get results. Directly or indirectly, it works. even a fucking online blog gets results even when you least expect it will, its fucking 6:25 am and i am feeling better, whether it was writing my drama out, and showcasing it to the international anonamous public, or having the intended directee recieve the message loud and clear, either way, it worked, i like adbusters, but they got one thing wrong, advertising is vital for a healthy mind, even if your mind is far from healthy, what the fuck m i on about, it must be really late cause im hungry for some mac and cheese, and i cant think straight, sorry if i offended anyone.

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Another fucking morning without you

Im glad you had a happy holiday, i hope you got your costume together. I hope you had a party, and got some.

Im sorry i seemed to have wasted your time, but fuck you. I came back, for the unteenth time, trying to make it work, i forgave as much as i had it in me to forgive, but did you care? fuck no! You were just happy to have another dick in your life. The last one dumped you in new york, i hope he fucked you, and then dumped your ass, cause you sure made him a nice notebook, much better than the one you were making me. I also appriciate you stealing a good bit of ideas form the one I made you. You fucking pathetic waste of life. I hate you. But for some fucking insane reason, i love you and, here I am another fucking night without you, feeling like shit, and im not sure what feels more like shit, being dumped by you for any other guy that flirted with you when i wasnt at 150%, or being without you, the most amazing woman i have ever met, and by far the most perfect for me, except that one little fault. your self esteem.

I did my fucking best to boost it, as did ben or so i thought, maybe he didnt, who fucking knows, but this isnt about ben, its about you, we spent close to a year, and countless wars, and recoveries together, we traveled the country together, we fucking had some times didnt we? we should have a movie, you should be played by winona ryder,  with all her clepto twisted glory, and i by john cusack in high fidelity, except only the part of him that hates you then comes back to you, you are the cusack that constantly cheats on his girls, looking for something to satisfy your low self esteem issues at all times, cause your art has run dry, your job sucks, and you have no friends except guys who want to get in your pants, and you probably let them you are a habitual liar, and i fucking hated you for it. The more you felt like shit about yourself the more you did stupid shit, and the more you lied about it, and the more we both felt like shit creating our downward spiral.

you want to know why i left? i told you all over the place. but im sure it doesnt even matter to you now, cause im sure you already have someone else, good for you, but they will never make you as happy as i did, they will never love you like I do, and you may come to learn that someday, but i doubt it, cause youll never be alone long enough to think.

god, you fucking suck. maybe im being a woman, but i fucking love you, and you shit on me, and lied about it so many times why should i have trusted you? im sure karma will sort things out, but fuck, ide rather have you in my life than you get punished by some stupid faith driven force. i fucking love you to death, and i cant be with you. i cant fucking do it, and its tearing me apart inside, and to think you are living your life like nothing happened, like i mean nothing to you, fuck,  thanks for the beautiful blog about how you were upset, but the part about me fucking up your halloween was a nice touch that reminded me how little i ment to you. I was a filler in your vaccumme, and i got sucked up in it all.

some day ill give any bits of my heart i win back from you to someone new, and they will appriciate me like you should have, and maybe someday you will allow someone to love you for you, you are so fucking beautiful, especially now that youve gained weight, god, you are so fucking hot now, and i dont think you see it, but who knows what the hell goes on inside that twisted fucking head of yours, maybe its all just one big iphone, and nothing else.


i like writing about this, it helps me feel better. it makes me feel ok that i got away.

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