i wish my dad would write some book or journal about all of the grumblings he brings to the dinner table when he chooses to squash what it is we might be describing as things we enjoy or love. at least then it would have some value, and would be instantly relevant as soon as the reader opened the book instead of being the Monty Python 'God's Foot' that hurtles two dimensionally on our unsuspecting world. we're rarely met with screams or roars, just doused with negativity gas and ignited.
topics might include: the Baltimore Ravens any and all American presidents that are not JFK Jim Carrey the NHL not-Rangers dogs Mother & Brother
it wouldn't have to be a long book. even a page essay on each would do. there would be more topics as welll, though many chapters would be born in others. it might read like a manifesto.
i have so much going on behind the gory synth tonight.
1. i ruined everything for absolutely nothing. i don't linger on it until i feel something about it. only then it's misery, and only then it's the only thing that matters at all. i don't think anyone really believes me when i say what i say about it. but it's true. she is. here's to futurewoe.
2. so, what do i say when this whole ordeal is going on and how long do i wait until the scenario is faced head on. little time to breath it out or unpack and resettle. some ice ages would never end, given time. ohh it's not working out so well, is it. goddamn you, goddamn it, i want to know and i'll never know. am i wrong to bring it up? something needs to change, else there's no closure.
3. where am i going to be living and who is it going to be with? so many / too many options.
4. okay. if things end up going nowhere in the event that she comes home and we work this whole situation out and come to terms on everything and things are admitted and changed and amended to the point where if they went forward on a daily basis the way things should go in any healthy and appropriate relationship, how do i then eliminate the urges and desires to keep this activity in check? i think the best way to ask this (and then, more than likely, to answer this) is how does one cure a jealousy issue? my first response would be to say that you absolutely don't. it's something spoiled, an airtight fixture breached and its vacuum rendered irrelevant.
big tough guy, "emotional juggernaut". i know i probably shouldn't drive tonight. they're all out of town, anyway.
outside of all of these questions that i tried to filter out as i was floating around on the internet, i happened to find a handful of new bands that i currently believe, somehwere in the next two years, i will be telling you, "no, i don't think you understand" as i've been known to say when i love a band more than i can accurately describe to the best of my ability and you aren't having your eyes roll into the back of your head when you first hear it, looking at me as if you've had something largely important revealed to you.
so much so so much is happening right now, and is about to happen (or not happen) and it's not that i don't know what to do, because i do. at least, i know what i would matter-of-factly tell myself to do. it was such an easy thing to do,
to just wait
i think the next week (or month) will probably determine a few things, like how i allow myself to feel about myself, where i will be living and how, a certain level of self respect, and the ways that i continue to or no longer feel guilty about feeling.
it IS! it's a crossroads! been hearing about these for years, been plowing through them for years. could be i have to not let it be this time. the last three days or so have been spent surrounded by friends and me revealing facts that i've hid from them.
a sort of clarity and solitude is going to be lifted. this is not a drill.
my dad gave me his copy of tropic of cancer and i started reading that one instead of the copy that i'd bought and had been going through. a little bit of it has to do with the fact that it has a vintage feel to it, and seems to sound more the way it should without being aged and feeling a little classic, a little bit of it has to do with the dramatic level of credibility that i will no doubt gain amidst the microcentric circles of book clubs and esteemed undiscovered writers i surround myself with... uhhhhhhh but yeah the REAL reason is because i'm sort of hoping that i end up finding something that HE highlighted, or underlined or noted on in the margin. that's the kind of thing that i love to discover, even by accident. library books can be GOLDMINES for this sort of thing. someone thought that this was important or vital or interesting or noteworthy. go through books i've read and you'll find marks everywhere. in ways, i think it might mess with the real sense of things a little bit. it makes you read falsely ahead a bit, just out of distraction, stealing away any real chance you get to enjoy that line making its own footprint on you as it would without any sort of push in the right direction. i'm not very far into the book, but i've yet to see any pen hitting paper. waiting patiently.
ricky bailey called me today, and while i did fully intend to call him back, my phone died and i had his number on the phone and now it's way too late to call. but i'm going to give him a call tomorrow and work something out to hang with him, and make that happen, and hopefully make good on the only new year's revolution i've made thus far, and that is to not let trivial things (or NO things) come between me and people inviting me out to do things. i think i talked about it in the previous post. - i don't know why i didn't post this yesterday. it was written sunday night.
it's odd the sort of hatred that i get when i read the wrong sort of thing. i'm sure i never had this before late last year (or i could just say a few months ago). murderous emotions, the kind to tear apart a person or choke someone down to the ground with one hand, letting blood rush to my face, getting all light headed and heavy with rage. i need to know someone's not testing me. i have trouble trusting anyone anymore or relying on anyone anymore, and i think this could be some reflection of myself in ways, but also a result of everything that i've seen this past year, both affecting myself and not affecting myself. things i've done and things that have happened to me. the points, i guess they equal out, though it still doesn't ease the impact of it all, or the reality of the kind of thing. i've tried and have found no direct relation to any one event. there's stress there, but only lacing some of the discourse. i don't know if it's that i've lost the reins on something that i've had under control for a long time, or if it's some new sort of beast or thirst that i have no idea how to quell. i guess i'll learn with The Change.
my mind doesn't have its freeform anymore. i can't relax enough to let it go where it goes. thinking back to the summer of 2007, i remember coming home on a daily or nightly basis, ready to listen to the same music again and again and allowing it to figure me out and weaving little things with it. long or short, sensical or not. they came from different places that had once been tied up. i, uh, i don't have that anymore. or i don't have the time or opportunity to revisit it.
i don't listen much anymore, and that has a lot to do with it.
to follow up: i didn't call ricky back today. though i did get daryl a copy of the cd. and still no notes from dad in the book before he was dad.
i don't know how long i have chosen to play this card or how long i will continue to play this card, though i am resolving in 2009 to make the solo night at home alone the very last solution. granted, it wasn't until 6:30 or 7:00 tonight that i realized that i didn't have to be here alone, but at that point, i'd already purchased my mini marathon, and was ready to indulge in a night alone. that, of course, is when the messages come. the answers to the questions asked days, and even weeks ago. i don't know when i started this, or why, but i think it must be years. with some longer than others. and while there is a definite option at this point to leave and make this the beginning of a sealing issue. unless there's something significant going on, or something i find myself doing that's more enthralling than anything else might be, i should more than likely accept and embrace the invites of other people to go out and be a part of their lives as much as i want to be a part of their lives. i really don't know what's wrong with me.
i've done it with most [if not all] of my best friends. not just acquaintances. and it's embarassing.
it's like getting over anything else. an addiction, or a habit. a way home. a relationship. it's going to take time, and i'm going to hate it at first, and i'm going to need help. but it's for the best. and even if it's better eighty percent of the time, it's still progress. and it should be easier come february, because i'll be entirely alone with no easy out here for the first time in a few months. and while most of the time, it's been me being alone that i've done it, another person here has been an extremely potent excuse. and that'll be done soon.