Life is pretty crazy...

Bad start, we all know it's crazy, misunderstood and reality never lines up with our own sense of things. I haven't said anything new, is there anything new to be said? anyhow...

I digress, All changes in life even the ground under my feet having minerals added such as plastic. odd I know, but look it up. Then there is the addition of nuclear waste and radiation for generations to come, years from now people will pull up hunks of plastic because of us. Hunks of radioactive plastic... stuff. umm... maybe not. Again, I digress... I promise.

People always change, maybe it's true, the concept of fireworks as an analogy. Hard and fast exploding joy like yellow bursts, spider-like and then it fades away. It maybe quick, short lived even and later written about (such a life.) "Too weird to live, and too rare to die.", Hunter S. Thompson. IT's never as great as living it, even if the times do suck.

Our memories even fail the best of analytical/detail oriented selves. Nostalgia is impossible to detour, sad endings stick with us. Humans like despair, sometimes and most likely I feel.. more than joy even.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm just Kafka's Gregor, but that's perhaps too good for me. The NegaKris ahaha I just want to get french toast with bananas with that guy. Just take me for my good and bad. Despair and joy. evil heinous me and the saintly goody-goody. ahaha

Special and unique VS Ordinary and normal
Ego VS self-conscious
Kris vs NegaKris
What we do VS Who we are
Honest VS Truth
Means VS Ends
me ranting VS me shutting the hell up

This thing I made today... VS this same thing I made, this is my idea of a good transition point. Genius, I know.


So I saw Scott Pilgrim vs the world... it's a tad obvious based on a few references.

bai-bai's

p.s. Enjoy this, me!
Okay me, thanks!
No problem, stop talking to yourself... we discussed this.
Oh, ya... my bad. Sorry.
It's ok, don't need to apologize. tea-tee-why-el


Disclosure: if you read this feeling, you learned nothing and gained nothing. Don't feel bad, it's all just static.

Toasties

I realize now, my reality will never line up with the actual worlds reality. Since everyone has their own idea, they just kind of collide. Even more so when such things as, what one sees going on is never said. It just lingers until something dramatic occurs. That our laughing at nothing, the void in which we create our own reality is never objective to just myself. It's subjective to others and they have a say whether we like it or not. Even if that persons say is unheard, the point can get across just fine one way or another. I'm always the fish asking what the hell water is and trying to walk outside of water up the tree. Constantly feeling stupid for never walking, but in the mean time never swimming either. Never the rat in the floorboards or the intellectuals above said floorboards. Not really in the picture at all, locked away like Thoreau in Walden or Bon Iver creating his album. The difference being lacking the talent to create such things, so just a man moving out of the way for all to pass him by. Since rejection, shrouded skepticism, irony and cynicism has become such a chunk of what was once a child-like world. 'Tis not all bad I suppose, maybe I'm missing the bigger picture and just don't know it. I seem to do that oft. Hunter S. Thompson can finish whatever this diatribe is... with a toast.

"Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives... and to the ‘good life,’ whatever it is and wherever it happens to be."

is it?

I tried to lick the honey which formerly consoled me, but the honey no longer gave me pleasure..., tolstoy.

This is, was, and shall be... my theology.

Going form peace to peace until I've destroyed it all.

Oh vices, pull further into and out of darkness. What a shame it's come to such. Good day. I said good day!

Rejection has sadly become my truth. Narcissism has been put in place of any wisdom I have had. And it's seen in my dwindling strength. That cursed honey, night and day, despairing dragon lair... I can't ignore it just as much as it won't ignore me.

simple moments are like decades or, when you're young it seems like an eternity and you wake up fifty. I've imposed blindness on myself, something like sleep... right? goodnight, until we're old and no longer young. waiting to die... blah blah blah... inception quote... blah blah blah, I talk a lot.

Quote 4(I'm not original): Youth is counted sweetest by those who are no longer young.

Maybe that, over stayed welcome, you discussed doesn't apply to you but me.

My introvert beard is growing in nicely, a walden type beard. I got that going.


Lates, bruv.

Shattered pieces of that summer sun tea jug, perhaps we are those pieces. Perhaps that is our peace or at least my peace.

From the deepest depths of hell to the tallest radiant flower.
Three blessed innocence lingers,
bodies with souls,
bodies with spirit,
bodies with wear and tear.
Abandonment beyond torment.
Desirable lusting,
milk and honey in my comb.

Throbbing sobs of SOB nature.
All is peaceful, All is war.
Merely perceivable, inevitably believable and
no one really gives a damn.

seas crashn' in,
blood swirln' drain,
busted in tattered glass mess.
Tides come in but,
"it is well in my soul."
Disenfranchised thine eye.

Bursting through seams,
selling nations denim jeans.
Destroy icons by making them icons,
deliberate fundamental image-less.
Turntables booming loud meaningless.
All amplified, All important.

Passing writings through the day. Depressing/happy day. The tides of emotion

2 P.M. (Post on oneword.com for the day, Suicide.)
What a romantic, poetic end to whatever it is I live today. Even though it’s all I shouldn’t and never shall do, for I am a coward to it’s grasp. Poor and homeless, what else is there left? I’ve been rich, intellectual, at Fancier studies and even battled the best. Worked for my money. I even spent the biggest gaps of my time in the synagogue of many religions… I’m like Siddhartha starring in the river… what next? Om, perhaps…

5 P.M.
It's been exhausted, the last nerve, scraping the bottom barrel. Depressed, lost and hope given. What's left evaporated in wholes. Common these days. Expressions left, interpretation sucks, spirit fails, body unwilling, mind in shambles... shambles, shambles, shambles... sweet bumblebee didn't help me. Dormant time and time again. Rodent under floorboards, rodents gnawing away night and day, rodents common to the commoners. Typing rhythmic doom, beats in tune, notes in truth, revelations of conscious, negative hindsight. What's next is to drown in it's sounds; where inferno awaits.


2 A.M.
epitaph unnatural to the limp ED plan unholy red-line distinctly altering subconscious, dragging battling through war and gutter. spreading gospels of dysfunction, with well placed functional numerical layouts of communistic salvation. Chaplin-esque tramps ongoing solutions, nothing but cannon fodder... cannon fodder, cannon fodder, cannon fodder.

in my time of dyin'.

A sugar so sweet
I can taste it in the suite
in the highest of heights
from the depths of a crevasse
but what I can't understand
is whats clasped in these hands

But what I can't begin to mistake
with the bottles booze and instinct
the troubles lost in disillusionment
and all the troubles lost in disillusionment

so who the fuck will ever care?
I'll toss out all philosophy
take part in the irony
of pulling nothing from eternity

the sugary suites
we tasted divided
from the highest of heights
was never for the journey
was never for the journey's sake

but what I'm beginning to mistake
with all the bottles and syringes
all the troubles partaken in
with the struggles partaken in

so who the fuck will ever care?
I've tossed out all theology
taken part in causality
of forgetting my reality

the taste so neat
the damned brisk sweet
deaf to my tongue, deaf to my tone
not yet deaf to sight, not yet deaf to sight.

_______________________________________________

Do tell my love, before the dawn of time passes. We insolent men, deaf to passes. Time ends all to soon. Departure comes shattering on in, the glass castle rests simply upon dirty foundations of tormented souls. Indeed the times shall be changn', but don't be bankn' on it. Sober up all in due time, the glimmer and shimmer we see is polished by moonlight. Our city changes by the second anyhow. We made it up by passing train, flowing blood pumping lusts of our souls. Diminished relics of old, simply laid to waste.

________________________________________________
My post from oneword.com today.

"Wrench."
It was a despicable wrench of the situation. All in which we never knew and it was indeed all that I loathed and hated within myself. the simple effort to fix the things, to change things, to need to know more and more to the effort of humanity. To weep at my own grave before I was ever dead. I weep for everything and nothing all at the same time.

Tears stream like rivers.

Quick and fast you past
shattered away like the summer sun tea jug I broke in youth.
scrambling and playing,
my unknowingly past-life
What a future! my bastard bloodline...
it laughs in slight victory, but the simple crack is enough
bound together, forging on.

if it wasn't for you, where the hell would this be?

In a fucking coffin! laid to waste! Chewed meat to the dogs!
my mind basic chew toys... unity. one. unheard of.

if it truly wasn't for you. Mistakes-destruction-happenings
divorce. all of what I once thought wrong... was all right.

and I don't write until I'm in the right mind.

social standards claim impossibilites, eternity instills so much more.
I weep for you, my typing weeps for you, I weep for me and all those who cannot weep. I even weep for joy!

I never noticed but a casket
in which a hope laid
in that my hope rebirths
the disillusioned generation pulling up coffins
pulling nails in time. weeping joyful tears on the docks!
Painful fears and lost memories.

oh grandma, I hope to call you now. For it's too late, so Kathy is how it'll be. Do not apologize for troubles, do not apologize for wrong, there was hurt but joy has come from despair. A burden buried. a family born and would never live if not for you.

How blessed your actions blessed me.
never apologize for there is nothing to be sorry for.
forging nothing into something,
forging nothing,
into something....

goodbye.