Saturday, 30 November 2013

A Fantastical Construct

Date written: November 28, 2013

Drinking is such a fantastical construct. This drink makes us sick and stupid, but it also makes us giddy and wise. We get drunk to extend ourselves past what we are, mental, sick, depressed. We extend ourselves past our problems to time in which they don't exist and this extension sets us free to honesty for those around and for us. This liberation hurts us and makes us strong, we cry and scream, we realize what we are. 

That thing could be a child or a care giver, we see men crawl and we see people stand up and help in spite of their liberation that demands worship on bended knee or in full-on fetal position. The fact is drinking isn't disappearing, it's only gaining on closed minds and hopefully sending them into the mind altering brilliance. 

A foray into alcoholism is amazing, a one night stand with a bottle of whiskey you will most likely not remember. The physical matters not, memories and emotions become all the more present; the bottles of rum whisper sweet nothings, the cans of beer gossip with coolers and cocktails, they feed your libido, even though you wouldn't be able to feel it anyway. You sing and dance without thought, you gain the courage to sit with pretty people and tell jokes that you think are funny, the tequila talks you into getting numbers that don't lead anywhere fruitful and buying drinks with money you don't have. The scotch scoffs at you from the back, at your idiocy, he twists his nicely waxed moustache and laughs.

This fantastical construct has created the illusion that it helps us, this thing shapes our obstructions into monsters that make us return to the arms of a familiar numbness. We turn to it in times of need, we turn to it to make believe that our lives are just peachy. We drink to bring us closer to friends and family, sitting on the porch with a beer unhinges jaws like no lubricant the Tinman has ever seen or felt.

This most confusing pastime is familiar to us all. To happiness, to health, and a great New Year, let us not forget why we indulge in this most fantastical construct.

Wednesday, 22 May 2013

A Letter to my Loved Ones

Date written: May 20, 2013


Dear loves of my life past, present, and future,

Thank you for everything you've done or did do because you all have inspired me in one way or another, I love you all very dearly. I'm glad that I was given the chance to carry around little bits of you in my heart wherever I go, and that I can pull it out like change for a beggar, when I'm in need of a home. One day I'll be gone, and I'll miss you all terribly, but we'll meet again, and I can leave happy knowing that our hearts will beat together again, and that our hands will link once more. I wish that things didn't have to be this way, that we had to part, and walk in different directions, but that's the constant in life; change happens, people move or become closer together again. I love you all more than words can express, even if you infuriate me at times, even though you hurt me on occasion, I love you. I've taken great pleasure in knowing you all, but right now I need to be gone. 

Again with all my love, 
Your friend or lover, son or daughter, husband or wife, brother or sister, aunt or uncle, grandpa or grandma

I love you, I hope your futures are bright, and remember I'll be seeing you again.

Monday, 29 April 2013

Loneliness

Date written: April 24, 2013

I once saw my friend talk to a muffin as he placed it precariously on his bannister; he said, "Stay," as if he was afraid the muffin would grow legs, and jump to his death, down the stairs, and into the dust of his basement, but the muffin stayed on its side as if it had actually heard him. I feel like we all do this, we speak with inanimate objects as if they had minds, and feelings; we do this because we want to feel less lonely, and misunderstood. As a child I was alone a great deal of the time, I would often prefer to walk through the woods with my sword, and shield talking to the trees, and the beings I made up. The marvel was that despite my appearance I remained in a state where the world was my one, and only friend; my heart would communicate with the world around me, and it would fill me up with the love that I needed. I think that everyone did this as children whether it was tea parties with dolls, and teddy bears, or adventures with action figures, and train sets; we all want to imagine that we're never alone. We talk to ourselves to make sure that we have someone who will listen because as children we never had the ability to communicate properly, we had all these words we wanted to say, but not the vocabulary. Our conversations varied, but a constant was being misunderstood; our parents couldn't understand us, our ideas too outlandish, our peers were at the same loss because no one had the same mental faculties you, yourself did. We were all at different points growing up, we found out at different times how alone we really were, so we return to the recesses of our imaginations to feel like children again, always alone, but happy all the same. We knew the way of the world, we knew that despite appearances, being alone is a state of mind; we're never alone as long as we keep our hearts like our little-selves did. We've become shut-ins talking to muffins, and giving ourselves glimpses of how we used to be; growing up ruined us, it gave the impression that sadness, and loneliness are simply facts of life, but the truth is that even if we are alone, we have the world to keep us company. 

Tuesday, 2 April 2013

Love is a Funny Thing

Date written: March 23, 2013

"Have you ever been in love?"

"I don't know... I'd like to think so."

"Do you ache?"

"Sometimes."

"Why?"

"Because love is a funny thing."

"Why?"

"It evokes so many things, and creates realities in your mind, they're illusions though; illusions of what could be, but we're always afraid. We're always afraid that love won't return, that we don't deserve it, or the person that we love deserves someone better."

"Why?"

"We're all a little insecure, we think that we aren't good enough for love, and our hearts shrivel up like pruney fingers, or raisins. We all have our faults, and we tend to let them get in the way when we look for love; our only barrier is ourselves really."

"Why?"

"Because love is a funny thing, it breaks us down, and makes us whole again. We get in our own way when we stop at the hurt, and we let it dictate what we do next. We reflect on our broken hearts, and in turn we reflect on what lines the cracks; our hearts break apart at our faults because that's where the pressure is."

"Why?"

"We all want to fall in love, but a lot of us don't love ourselves; we put so much emphasis on making people like us when we don't even like who we are. All that pressure builds then when we finally find love, and lose it, all those faults burst back into the door's of our hearts because self-loathing tends to fill a pretty big void."

"Why?"

"Why do you insist on asking me why after every answer I give?"

"I want you to stop seeing love so negatively because there is beauty in falling in love, but your mind is full of grief; I just wanted to know if you loved me."

"And I do, I love you more than you could ever know, but don't you agree?"

"With what?"

"That love is a funny thing."

Thursday, 21 March 2013

Rocks & Mirrors

Date written: February 15, 2013

What if we're all just talking our own reflections? When we look for a mate or a friend we tend to gravitate towards people who hold the perspectives we do or the traits we possess. It seems like all bets are off when it comes to finding similarities. We look so hard sometimes to find people who are liked minded so we can be better understood, but what about our differences? Why would we talk to a mirror when we could talk to a rock; something that doesn't reflect our ideals, but challenge them? They make us think, and question our thoughts because that's what we're meant to do, we're meant to move through life, and question the inconsequential, and the mundane because if we were all the same what would we talk about? You already know what you think, you've already shrink-wrapped your thoughts because what you think is valuable to you, but thoughts are like action figures because they're worth nothing in their cages, they deserve to be played with. You can't bounce a ball off a mirror without the fear of breaking it, but if you bounce it off a rock, it'll come back to you, but in a different way. You may say that it's the same ball, but of course it is, and you may not think your ball has changed, but it never hurts to check again because shit happens, you offend people with your thoughts, but that can't be helped; sometimes the ball hits the rock with such force, that it leaves a never fading mark because a world can change so completely in an instant by one thought that can't be processed. My world has fallen into shambles more times than I can count, but I've recovered, and I changed because that's what rocks do; they're steadfast, and solid, but they do crack from time to time, and they compensate for their obvious falterings. They open up, and things grow within the cracks, we cultivate new trains of thought that grow, and come to light as time passes, and our new organisms move through the world , and inspire so many things, and it's amazing to think that all these thoughts came off a rock, and that our minds were unlocked by something so unfamiliar, and adamant in it's ways; something we couldn't get from our fragile reflections. We as people are always changing, and sometimes it's hard to keep track of where we are, and where exactly we're meant to go, but that's why we have rocks because their moss always points us in the right direction in some way, shape, or form. They shield us from storms, they help us perform, so what's the point in talking to a mirror? They only let you see you, and what's behind; there is no way forward looking in a mirror, so maybe it's time to stop talking to ourselves, and start talking to our differences.

Clocks

Date written: February 20, 2013

Have you ever watched two clocks side by side? They're never synchronized, forever moving independently; through looking at these clocks you really get a feeling of how mailable time is; we have so many implements to keep it but, we are all still running on our own time. My watch will never be the same as your's so why do we insist that being on time is so important? If my late is your early than who am I to say that your time wrong? Our clocks are merely on different schedules, time is relative, a long day for me is a short one for you, and the only thing time seems to be is a weight that gets heavier as the day goes along. I can't say how many times in a day I look into the face of everyone's mortal enemy, and he says, "Not right now," and I bow out, and away from his ugly face for a little while because I have work to do, but soon I look up again, and he says "Not right now," but when will be the time to break free from that bond that holds you to your seat? The truth of that is you'll never truly stand up, you'll always be glued to your chair staring up at the clock, and it's only illusions that allow us to stand. We're surrounded by clocks at work, while we're walking home to where we think time can't get us, but the reality is that time is dragging you through life, and it's easy enough to break free, but we can't because we can't beat our conditioning without everyone doing so as well. It seems like this is never ending; we'll always be slaves to time, and we are tricked by our everlasting master that we have all the time in the world, but the fact is that time is a countdown, and we're all just waiting for our worlds to end.

Thursday, 7 March 2013

Words

Date written: January 23, 2013

Words, I love words. Writing them, reading them; I love words. Words are vital, without words we couldn't get our meaning across; we couldn't emboss things on sides of buildings or on lover's rings. Without words what could we do? How could we move through life without this means of communicating? Our instinct from our animal days has faded away, and all we are left with are minds full of thoughts; thoughts we couldn't express without our precious words. To me words sparkle, they make a light for me in the dark. All becomes clear through words, like after having an ice cold beer, you reach a moment of clarity, and the rarity of that moment feels like love, like the kiss of two turtle doves. You realize that life isn't so bad, and you call your best friend, and say "Hey wanna come over for a drink, I gotta talk to you." Without words you wouldn't be able to say "Thank you for listening, and understanding, I'm glad you're my friend." Words bend like trees in the wind because said one way a word means this, and once it's bent the other it means something totally different. Take for example "Fuck you!" In my life I use it as a greeting upon meeting one of my friends in the loop, but as the tree bends it means hate, pure detestation, and that's the brilliant thing about them; words mean different things to different people. The power of words is enormous, they can warn us, inform us, and harm us. All those kids who chanted that mantra never knew the power of a well placed word; the sting lasts longer than any bruise or blister, and sticks like klister on the inside of your mind. They bind you for the rest of your life, and leave you thinking that you're not good enough, that you're fat, or ugly, and as much as people say that "It's not true," those words have already scarred you, and those scars don't fade like those left by lover's lips; those words held weight, and cut in places you wouldn't except like scissors in the hands of a toddler. I've felt like fodder for most of my life, and the strife I've felt had been aided by words. They soothe, and calm in the worst of times.