<center>cycles

:: 2013 19 May :: 2.24pm

Shame murders progress.

1 spoke | speak

:: 2012 7 May :: 1.33pm

I am addicted to that certainty in whose absence my selfishness is

naked.

In the first moments I was action. I moved, even though my certainty and knowledge had been shattered. From here, I can't see precisely what moved me. Some inexplicable sense that the next step, despite not mattering, was worth making.

But I've coasted to a halt. I sit motionless and restless. That is my selfishness. Though I have no certainty to speak of, it should be obvious what the next step is. [I]It's all out there[/I].

But then I stop. There are people, connections, responsibilities. Am I allowing myself to be especially possessed? Have I surrendered myself to be objectified? Does covenant imply objectification?

I am living in a paralyzing tension- on the one hand, the potential for absolute freedom. On the other, knowing how alone that freedom makes me.

Can I bind myself that way? Is there anything else to do?

_|_ If it looks something like that, then I have some writing to do.

It's funny that tripping over the answer gets me to ask the right question. My life would move along more quickly if I could do things the other way around.

:: 2012 6 May :: 6.05pm
:: Music: The dog days are over

Sometimes I feel like the world is talking to me.

:: 2012 1 April :: 10.12pm

I don't know anything.

What if I had it and I threw it away?

Im-Sorry
[ godessalthena ]

:: 2012 3 March :: 2.40am

I'm sorry I couldn't be everything I was meant to be.

I'm sorry I am myself.

I'm so sorry I fuck everything up.

:: 2012 20 February :: 2.28pm

Is it like this in everyone's head? Not writing this sentence might have been the first step in differntiating between what's in here and everything- everyone- else out there.

Am I an angry person?

:: 2011 17 February :: 4.28pm

What does it mean to be an individual?

:: 2011 12 January :: 6.54pm

It's time for an adventure.

:: 2010 8 December :: 9.42pm

Goddamn it I could just burn this whole journal and tell you my life is beautiful and maybe that would make some sense.

The beauty in the world I chase so hard chases back.

:: 2010 8 December :: 9.33pm

The funny thing is, whether it was learning an indigenous language on a mountain thousands of miles, or here at my desk writing philosophy, or napping with her on the couch...

now I'm just lost in the music. Haha, look at me go. Here we go?

Don't suppose I'm as crude of an instrument as I look, there's something very elegant going on here. We may be social dinosaurs, and maybe you don't believe in these sorts of dinosaurs, but I like to think they existed. If they didn't, then this isn't old fashioned, it's revolutionary.

On second thought, it's a revolution anyway. In my private little world, it's a revolution. I imagine it would be in yours, too.

Be balanced, but not compromised. Of course of course of course live this fiercely. Dive in.

And if the music is what makes the feeling, there's always people making more music.

:: 2010 8 December :: 9.30pm

I have existed twice and all at once.

-nightsloth-

:: 2010 14 November :: 9.50pm
:: Music: crime in stereo

Remembering that this page existed and subsequently finding it and reading it was pretty surreal at first.

Nothing is really surprising though. I browsed through my nerdy eccentricities and my occasional gripe at the universe. I was definitely twelve. And I guess the main source of my confusion was a general disconnect from reality, and the main source of my depression was endless cyclic expostulation regarding the confusion and the emotion that I was faced with. . .

I never thought that I would smoke cigarettes or smoke weed, I probably never thought that I would scream into a microphone about social reform.

I still use apathy as a crutch for my sanity. I hope I'm learning. . .

Anyway, the purpose of continuing to post here is vague, but I feel compelled to do it anyway. I mean, now I write in actual notebooks. There's not really an audience for this place.

So here it is. I guess I'll see if I actually post more or not.

:: 2010 29 September :: 6.06pm
:: Music: ratatat

bah
bahbah

bahbah

desert eagle and coffee.

folding and unfolding. something like origami flowers. can\\

sleeping in peace, sleeping cause you can't drown and feel this good.

buh

buhshickshicka. noisy drum noises.

There was a moment, 7 years ago, just like this, where something began.

See them? At first I thought it was snowing. Now I see it never mattered how scared I was, how small I was, or how hard the Leviathan fought to keep me back.

Like the Mobius strip, life only appears to go in a straight line if you're in it.

There was a moment 7 years ago. I could never have known how beautiful this is.

I can't tell you the future, and I can't decide who anyone else is. I'm sometimes not sure I can even know who anyone else is.

But I know who I am, and I can choose who I am, and if that has anything to do with the future, I can choose some piece of that, too.

A little girl pushes on the oar.
Grandpa pushes too. And that's how miracles happen.

:: 2010 19 September :: 6.00pm

My life is beautiful.

The dichotomy here is that I'm inclined to say something I know isn't true. So let's call it a feeling, not a thought

but

They can call me pretentious, I don't really mind. The meek and meager inherit the Earth, and the bold and reckless inherit the sky.

Mostly just love so powerful that when strikes me I could forget my own name. And finally a world of people who know what that means.

Oh, for the record: I really love that girl.

:: 2009 8 December :: 9.22pm

I feel good. Rough around the edges, but things are changing. Maybe it's thinking back to the things that mattered before this weird fog. Maybe it's the major key playing in the stereo.

Most people get out- I know that I need to break out and shine anyway.

I'm carrying this belief that if I go, I'll fuck it up- that the new people won't like me, that I won't succeed in the new place.

All of that is juvenile- this place started as passion and a way with words. All the pretentious anti-personal anti-poetry came later.

My roots as a person are the things that I can't make sense out of.

Maybe I should let myself acknowledge how foreign all of the rest is to me right now.

I can't breathe, but there's a big smile on my face anyway.

"But the oranges just sit there and never ripen!"

"Stalinist fruit."