how it works

empty self; negligence of thought, so as to be creative; the universe is a series of contradictions trying to work themselves out, be courageous; so as to not succumb to a despair born of comparison, find piece/peace.

empty, create, put forth, find piece/peace.

infinite jest

If everything is but a progression towards one phrase.. 'I love you,' 

then I would think it comically tragic if life were not an infinite jest.

If everything is but a recession from one phrase.. 'I love you,'

then I would think it tragically comical if life were not an infinite jest. 

As it stands, life is a jest of infinite proportions.

You are here to probe at my deepest held sentiments, so that I don't seek refuge in the recesses of conditioned response. 

And I, to you. 

Lose my mind, find my body. 

Out of my head, into the music. 

Less about me, more about you.

Less about you or I, more about us. 

I hope that my children, upon reaching that stage of development whereupon, in reminiscing, they come to find that those motherly words of wisdom were more than just words, can remember "my mama told me there'd be days like this."  I hope that I can teach my children to love, not loath this cycle of  bliss ~> wonder ~> despair ~> neutrality..... so that their whole lives are not neutral, emotionless, loveless. So that they can stick it out through the bad times and remember that the good times will pass too. So that they are able to empathize, be compassionate. So that they don't just have to sit idly by during a downturn and watch the sky change colors because there is nothing else to do, but that they watch it change because there is nothing they'd rather be doing. 




SEXISM 


you allow me to be me. you give me what I lack. my mama always told me to be able function independently. but i want to always be lacking something. empty somewhere, waiting to be filled, the continuous progression towards and recession from 'i love you.' because if i am full, independent, strong, then i can't be in love, because i'll have everything i need. you allow me to be me and i'll let you be you and together will have never felt so good.  

Acidic Reflections of Trips Long Past, Still to Come, and Never to Be

It was just me and you in the room, in bed, swaying to oldies. It was the only place I wanted to be and I found that I was happy that I didn’t yearn for something more. I imagined everything other than this room, this feeling, and you to be impersonal, unfamiliar, and frightening. The city is big yes, but more importantly fast and cut-throat. These four walls will protect us. But then the four walls caved in, got closer and closer like I was being strangled and I felt claustrophobic. I needed to go out and be amongst the impersonal, the scary, the unfarmiliar so that I could appreciate the mundane. I needed to explore! I needed to do things I’d never done before! Get dirty, feel unsafe, cry a little! I imagined life as a big adventure or a mystery waiting to be solved and I wanted to solve it! Life is waiting for me out there! What the hell am I doing in this room staring at a picture? But then I convinced myself that I shouldn’t need to do that. That I should be able to conjur up gratitude, peace, and contentment from somewhere deep within my soul. And every decision felt so weighty, so full of “what-ifs.” I was in prison, a mental prison. Is there any other kind?

Everything was big and scary. Everything was small and intimate. Nothing felt good. Everything felt good. I had no idea who I was or how to be myself. I was myself and it felt so good. 

I found the bad music and the sky turned dark. My attention turned to all of the garbage lying around me and the crowds of people checking their cell phones and complaining about the light drizzle. Then I found the good music and it was bliss. Colors were brighter and my focus drifted towards the happy, dancing people, the careless ones. I danced and thought to myself “this is it! All you have you to do is tune into the good music!” Which is very different from finding the good music.

Inklings of that earlier ‘weighing down’ episode kept creeping to the forefront of my consciousness. I could feel them coming on – those doubts, those “what-ifs?,” that gal in my head trying to convince me that I should try and find a way to enjoy things that didn’t feel right. But I had found the good music and I was determined to keep it playing for as long as possible. And so I shooed them away and felt empowered.

What if this never ends? Or, worse, what if it’s already over and I just don’t know it. Or, better, what if it’s a glimpse of eternity that I’ve just stumbled upon. The beginning of the collusion of trips long past, still to come, and never to be. The sky doesn’t turn dark in the winter and colors aren’t more majestic in the fall. It’s my own undoing and redoing.