Kerouac

I've been reading a lot of weird writing lately, mainly Down In Me and Reclaiming Imogen. I really like it, it's manageable in brevity and thought-provoking in the way it disturbs me. I might take up writing like this. I worry that someone will find it and the works will ruin my future career, but then this comes to mind. This thought process is the same thing that prevents me from linking my blog on facebook. I have over 100 "friends" but I still hesitate to show more than a few (those who are reading this) who I really am. I know they won't accept me. This knowledge is odd in that I enjoy playing in their world but need to live in mine.

So really, time will tell what I will do. Oh, and I should really get around to reading Kerouac, he sounds like a pretty cool guy.

Oh, and Juliet thought I killed myself. How quaint. Some days I wish I had. Hopefully the new medication will help with that. But really, I think the world is more beautiful when looking at it from the perspective of "after I die, she gets to live and..."

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Awakening

I've been asleep since I came home. College was torture, it only took me until the end to see it. So when I came home, I blotted it out. I've been playing World of Warcraft upwards of 12 hours a day lately.

But tonight I read a book, called "Manic". It's about manic-depression, whihc I'm pretty sure I don't have, but it was a trip anyway. I usually avoid reading literature or watching movies because my emotions merge with the art and I lose myself, leaving me depressed, euphoric, or even dangerous to be around. But tonight, I read and woke up from the malaise. But only time will tell if this feeling will last through tomorrow morning.

Oh, and Neveret?
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Home and Miserable

The first thing I did when I got home from college was call my best friend from high school and get drunk, waking up to realize he had used at least half of my brand new pack for cigarettes and bookmarked porn to my computer. I almost would have preferred a hangover. After the bonding was over though, I was forced to resign to my mother's new house.

So, all I've done since coming back is smoke cigarettes and play World of Warcraft. It's an existence without meaning and I'm absolutely miserable. The worst part is that I don't want anything more than to sleep. I don't feel the need to change even though I have the vague memories of meaning and desire. Now I'm left without passion in the place between the hours, what was previously my refuge.

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Snow is a Blanket Over a Sleeping Town

Years ago, a man I greatly respected at the time said "You are the center of the universe, and at the same time you are the most insignificant part of something infinitely greater than yourself. When you can hold both of these truths in your mind at the same time, you will have achieved something."

I think tonight, five minutes ago, I successfully held both truths in my mind, and I understood something meaningful. It's true and it's beautiful.

Another Poet

So, I know another poet, and he said I could share some of his work here. This piece really spoke to me, and the phenomenon of falling in love on the train, which I'll talk about another day. So, without further ado, I present "Sincerity" by Prester John.

Sincerity

To the dearest, precious woman
The dandelion of the garden
She who breaks the ice
Just so she can go fishing
For compliments.

To the lovely
No, beautiful
No, pretty
No, cute girl

I thank you
For everything
You never gave me.

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A Shoulder To Lean On

Earlier tonight I thought about this.

I am a cigarette.
A tube of chemicals and addiction that burns until there is nothing left
Nothing but a foul taste, an odor
And regret.

But then, I ran all around the dorm fixing things and looking at the lives of everyone else. The industrious souls who slave away or break down into elaborate rituals of alcoholic self-destruction. I am one of them, but tonight I walked among them alternately fixing their problems and making new ones. I like to think of myself as a bad person, but in reality I get the feeling that I walk the line pretty damn well. I help those I care about and break those I don't and don't feel bad about it either way.

Tonight, the popular kids asked me to do their dirty work and talk an annoying kid into leaving them alone. I agreed, because it's better him than me. Is this what the Gestapo felt like? Regardless, I'm popular now, and that status comes with a price. The price of course, that I am willing to pay.

Last but not least, some truth to go with all this beauty. The truth being that I tell nothing but the truth when I'm drunk. Not the facts, but the truth. There is a distinction in that the truth is real where facts can be unfortunate or banal. I told a girl last night that "I'm engaged, so I can't be in love with you." Now, I haven't been engaged in over two years now, but in my heart I still belong to Juliet. I may not care so greatly about the girl I told this too that I love her, but I cared enough to make it true, if only for a moment.

What am I doing here? I don't know. I'm just trying to make ends meet and hearts heal. Well, most of them anyway. Living in this dorm is like putting a frog in a blender with a thesis paper. I think I'll drop out of college and go to The Ringling College of Art and Design. Seriously, it's as good a plan as any.

The Most Beautiful Poems, You Will Never Read

It's 7:33 and I'm falling asleep even though I woke up at 4
And all I can think of is
Polish castles,
True love,
and how sorry I am for everything I ever I ever did to you.
Sorry,
Will you marry me,
So when I die you can use my money
To sing and make it big on the indie scene?


I'd rather kiss a girl than have a thousand bucks,
I'd rather taste good chocolate than eat well for a month,
I'd rather smoke than breathe for a week,
I'd rather say what I mean than watch what I speak,
I'd rather love you tomorrow than be married to another,
I'd rather die terrified than live forever.

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