Birthday Party

There's no answer for permanently fractured hearts.  Caught between the teeth of time and facts and wanting more than anything to be able to wish her a happy birthday without drumming up history.  More than wishing her a happy birthday, I want to be absolutely certain I don't hurt her.  To do that, I cannot offer a basic, basic, hallelujah.  Learning we would not be the same was one of the most terrifying, absolute, and violent days of my life.  I was already crying inside, taken every avenue to try to keep pace with her happiness and success.

Darker and darker and darker and darker.  The craziest part was our sense of adventure and curiosity for the world and cinema and oddball jokes and clowning and learning and reading and people watching were in line.

thinking backward, the love never dies.  Part of me shouts to the starlight "HAPPYBIRTHDAY".  I hope it matters.

I have nothing to offer her that will accelerate.   The answer to the question of future is blank.  I love you.  Time is an illusion.  Just gift me time I think.  Time is real.  Poor man, rich man, whatchu been in at.  What do you care about?

I put my body on the line and took risks.

What do you care about!!!

I can't have children, okay?  I can, but I'm far too warped to raise them.   Okay!?  I'm debt slagged as fuck, I can't raise kids, I don't know what a good chair is, I don't know how to do proper, I can cook and don't know what good food should cost, I don't have marketable skills, I hate customer service, and I have a useless degree and on top of that I still don't have the paper that confirms what I have actually learned.  Okay?  God is a lie, I'm antisocial, fucked in the head, and I would love to be.  I'm a social butterfly and an addict and a hermit.  I can't be trusted with a gun, the only family I recognize are my immediate siblings, I fucking hate people and the best world is a world where every city is glassed.  I'm an almost always nude and I love the outdoors and when we're at home, why are you wearing clothes?  It's weird!  Why can't I touch you?  Yes, it's your meat, I'm terrible with respecting boundaries once you're in everything should be open for all.  I'm not self conscious but I am conscientious.  That's the tip of it.  None of that answers what I asked.

What do I care about?  Fitting myself into life as invisibly as possible.  Caring about us goes about as far as: did you kill yourself today (y/n), was it a good day (y/n), can you engage with the world tomorrow (y/n), have you slept and eaten (y/n), did you hurt anyone (y/n)?  From those basics we can get more complex, but that's essentially it.  A very (I hate the word) easy checklist.

I laugh because who is supposed to live with that?

There's no answer for fractured hearts.

I wish there was.  Try to keep the shards in a box away from where they may be knocked over or caught up in the soles of feet and heels of hands and fingers or get into food.

The easy signs of trouble were violent in their simplicity.

We'll see.

I've told myself the ache will fade  Whispers along bedtime stories and therapy.  Imagine the... it would have continued for years afterward.  Pulling apart, love cannot solve base problems no matter how big or small and thorough a heart is.

What I hope most of all is that the first attraction wasn't a try to see how the other side of the tracks live. I hope most of all that she didn't think of me as ...

She gave a damn, and I will burn my circuits and song my circus.  It hurts.  I don't mind the reminder, knowing what it feels like to fall in love.  Knowing that falling in love is the sudden stop that will crush you.

Believe an end is just a beginning.

Believe love is real.

Believe that someone else saw something in you that you couldn't see yourself and the tides of fortune overwhelmed what could have been.

I Love You.




///Lemon Jelly - (Nice Weather For Ducks)

Birthday

Thinking about everything that may or may not be coming your way.  Thinking about everything you have left behind.  Everything you pretend to leave behind.  Everything, born new, you try to make and force people to think you've grown beyond.  You haven't. ?Yoiu are ertarded,-=  /You are retarded.  You have grown and changed, but what you are is still thoroughly flawed.  You did not pass "go."   You fought for it.  Triumphed even.  You did not pass inspection.  I am pissed and in love.
I do not invoke accents.  It bleecx.  It bleeds.  Remind a self that I am just like you.  Horatio!  /
I feel horribly deaf.  Root for.  Poesis.  Root for Poe. Sunrise is a /default.  One eye.  Bumper, crumple, zone5.





///The Postal Service - "We Will Become Silhouettes (remastered)"

Redrum and Other Origins and Valuation

Is it wildly addictive, yeah of course.   Does it change you?  No not really.  There's a certain amount of disappointment that comes with it.  A certain amount of asking yourself questions that persist despite the time of day.  It's a pretty weird thing.  A confluence of circumstance and luck so thick I can talk about it now almost a year removed.   Can you imagine sitting on anything for a year?

I tried to talk to my friend about it and she pretty much shut me out.  That sucks.  I did not anticipate at all how I would be re evaluated.  That part of it has been hard to parse and it really has been across the board with each person I've shared it with, chosen to share it with.  It's an odd difficulty but I can understand the rejection.  I can understand it, but I don't have to accept it, I would like to think.

Do I feel better?  Not really.  Not as good as I thought I'd feel.  Kind of reminds me of paint snuffling. Very short lived and very gorgeous and very forgettable, but so far away from everything enjoyable on a common basis.  A rare sadness that presents some unforgettable joy.  It's difficult to talk about.  Because I know there are people missing her and all that.  It's difficult to relate because on top of that there is the knowledge of the missing and maybe that's why I don't sleep so good these last years.  Getting away without really getting away (heart in the floor kinda shit except ...)

The most difficult thing has been trying to relate this story without who I relate it to drastically reevaluating who I am as a person.  I'm still the same.  What's so difficult to understand about needing and finding practice?  I understand that I am a very strange and enchanted boy and eventually luck runs out, but how does that mean love evaporates?  Or should evaporate?  How come once suddenly doesn't mean enough?  I could understand trust lost.  I could understand that.  Total abandonment still stymies me.  I don't care what you did or what you do.  If I love you I love you.  That's it.  Where it starts and ends I guess.  I think that's all I wanted in return.  That's all.  Step by stepped is what I got.  Oh well.  let's explore more.  It's a big world and I've a small heart and there's a hell of a lot of music along the way.  we'll see where this goes, but honestly i want more comedy.  I don't think that's too much to ask.  Trying to increase my value to others, you know?   It is the first and last time I'll talk about it, so enjoy.

The Seatbelts - "Rain"  -  its a strange balance. even to me.  the worst being that i dont know its been struck yet.  knowing how i feel afterward i will try, but i cannot promise anything and i never will.

But Really the Moral Is

The moral of the story is if someone offers to make you french toast and you just met them at a bar, the chances are pretty good that there will be no french toast at any point in the upcoming hours and what they really wanted went so far over your star eyed head to begin with that you probably should have just stayed home and had french toast on your own. And for that matter, why would you even go out if french toast was what you wanted to begin with. And attendant, if you are turning conversation toward food at a bar at 1 A.M., why would you believe anyone would take it any way besides having breakfast for dinner.

I don't know who outsmarted whom. I do know "well, if there's not going to be any food, I think I'm going to go" is probably the most awkward exit line in the history of exit lines. Probably right up there with the food poisoning excuse and the "I'm tired, I think I'm going to go to bed" excuse when there is a bed not ten feet away from you at their place.

It wasn't that strange of a night though. I did a lot of dream hunting. The hard part is disconnecting from yourself to a degree that will allow the prey to make an appearance and still be equipped well enough to make the kill. Like playing chess against yourself. It takes skill to make that sort of divide between consciousness and unconsciousness.

I had the shakes all day. The stupid and silly repetitiousness of motor action. The thing is, it's not stupid or silly, but necessary. Very really necessary. Very nearly. Part of it was tracking time. Part of it was sonar. Part distraction so I wouldn't have to think too much about time and space. The knock knock go of music in lieu of music. It got better and then worse and then better. The never ending search for answers. In lieu of. The important thing is I washed my hair for the first time in a while and that was an achievement because washing my hair takes forever. On the scale of 1/8th of a day dedication.

I am supremely disappointed at the failed hunt. But I will take another crack at it now that I know what I have to do. My scars have been itching more than usual. Someone asked me what happened to my face. It's all history. The local bar opened up again after the drug sting with some new bits and pieces, but it is essentially the same place with some new jerk wads there who saw the sign out front, I guess, and thought "aw yeah, a new bar", but it's the same bar. Exactly the same except for them. I don't think they understand that. Understand that the only thing new about it is them. Which is fine. I just hope they move on sooner than later so I can get a damn game of eight ball in without having to ask to be cued into their relationship roulette.

Things are going to get weird tomorrow. Not because I want them to, but because they're not going to work any other way so you embrace the weirdness, after a fashion. A familiar clip.I'm getting closer to something. I made some art today. I almost started to read a book in my spare time. I am trying to turn that almost into an already. I still have to pierce my ears and my eyebrow. Things aren't stacking up though. Not the way they used to. Now they're just roads waiting to be walked and sometimes I stand still.

Carnival is rolling around. Basically a reunion. I don't know who wants to avoid me. I want to see all of them, but knowing who wants to avoid you helps to make things easier to handle. Expectory. It's like a rectory of memories that maps outcomes over logic trees and points, graphically, to ends. It's not a place any more than a chalk board or map is a place, but it places places.

I don't know what I am going to do when I find him.Not exactly. I am going to try to bring back a trophy, if at all possible. It's a big world in there, though. A lot of places to hide to say the least. I've never been in the active position before. Then again, I've rarely had to be. There was nothing so assiduously beyond my control there to warrant active eradication. There were instances and events there I had nothing to do with (the war, the dust storm, the heart discovery, the mass migration, the shopping cart cats, the end of fossil fuels, the underground train system's metastasis, the rise of loose villainy) that I tried to roll with. Varying levels of success and confusion abiding. This is, this is different. Like getting hacked from the inside. Tampered with. Abused all over again. So we go back to war.

Summer is coming. You can smell it in the air. I want to look forward to it. I don't know when or why summer's prospect began to touch me in a bad way. Summer makes people do untoward things. It's like a full moon that last for four months. And then dies in your arms just when you've gotten to know and appreciate each other. Summer makes everyone want and try to win time. But it's just grass. Grass and leaves and yard work and half faked memories of times that didn't quite materialize the way they do in movies, but everyone thinks that this year is the year they do. The days are long and the nights are short and everything is hot as hell and restless. Restless so bad you would take your skin off if you could.

Everything that should not be alive comes to and slow wakes through spring. Houses start to breath and crack and groan in the night and the trees start to laugh. The ground gets soft and wet and comfortable and everyone brings out there best and worst outfits and nobody where's appropriate footwear and it all makes me so damn nervous. Do I look, do I not look, and for that matter what the hell am I looking at or for. The cattle train does it's dance and everyone wants to mate and sweat soaked nights turn into a search for steel sharp enough to cut through the bullshit bandied. When you're inside you want to be out and when you're out you want to be inside. And you can't wear a spacesuit when it get's that damn hot and you can't hide your face either without sweating harder than a crook at a creek with a dead body in a trash bag and locals fishing, eyes peeled at the water ahead. It's tough to deal. Everything with half an ounce of soul comes alive like it'll get into heaven if it breaths hard enough.

I just have to calm down, you know? Not just say we're going to get through this, but believe the words that I am saying to myself. Believe in the next step. Understand again that, yes, summer is going to maul my heart like a cat with a wad of toilet paper, and tear me up in ways familiar and ways I will learn anew, and not be afraid of the ... pain. Maybe this is the iteration it works out okay? That's always out there too.

I've been shaky all day. Needing to swap bodies. Bad command lines. Bad time code. But not bad everything. Some good, you know? I never know how to answer questions. The shakes. But maybe this is the summer that makes good.


///Dntel - "Rock My Boat" ...I wonder if you were alright...

Gestating Names

The low line is happening.

slowfluid
fingerslip
sunlance
powerdive
horsemenofthesun
highsequence
memoryanthem
keptaquaintance
throattwine
founderstext

Yes, I spent five hours doing this. Yes, it was hard. Yes, it would have been a lot easier if there weren't fifteen thousand dead blogs with catchy names still alive from 2002 that haven't been posted to in five years. Or, roughly, and my math isn't that great, but fifteen thousand days. Roughly. Probably more. Anyway, there were about three times more names that made it to the final cut. Two thirds were already taken. And five thirds were crappy for various reasons. Too cheap, too easy, too slow, too fast, too complex, too simple, too pandering, too monotone, too soft, too sexual, too written, too base, too serif-ed, too guilded, too quilled, etc, etc. These are the front runners.

The sad thing is, while I'm working on this I come across a ton of dead blogs. A ton of "this is my outlet"s. And they have clearly failed or moved on to other things that distract them or allow them some kind of other outlet or actually physically or maybe emotionally dead or just medicated. Enthralling and disheartening at the same time because I see it and I think "oh my god, I'm just like you, let's be friends" and then I understand they quit or walked away or grew out of it or whatever you want to call it for whatever reason.

The important thing is, the important thing being, the important thing seeing and I will tell you what you see, progress. I already had several design themes in mind and the name that wins out will probably be the one that fits the thema best. I'm not sure that's a word as much as it is a feeling. But yes. Usually it is fairly bad practice to name a color after you identify what color it is, but I am an impressionist and I see definites in swatches and brush strokes and it's much easier to name the thing after it exists instead of creating a name and top downing it.

So I'm thinking saturday will not be a terrible day to launch something new and old and new. It has been a long time coming. It will be fun to get my fingers dirty in adobe again. It's been a while. Too long. Like everything else. Well not even close to like everything else. the important thing is, and i can't stress that enough, the mind work is done. now it's getting down to the actionable items and I am gathering the disparate, the desperate, and the deserters to the factory floor because its not time to make weapons or war. It's time to make... period.


///Kinny and Horn - "Sacred Life" ...love the everything. Just write it all down cuz I don't really care. But I do. And that's why I foster love for the one's I don't dare. Be nice and sacrifice and play nice. Align. The world wasn't won in a day. The world wasn't one in a day. The world wasn't sung in a day. The world wasn't done in day. There's still time. So play.