Anywhere But Here

Trade howling in fits of ecstasy for weeping in waves of sorrow; life is a series of these ups and down. We’re cut, we bleed, we scab over, and then we grow again. Our skin is renewed but gently marked, scarred forever with the painful experiences of the past.



Tucked in our boats, some with sails, others with oars, and some just scraps of wood, we ride the waves of the ocean we’re all poured into as we escape from the womb. Rocking in our vessels we bump in the turbulent waters and ride the waves. Sunk in the trough of a wave its often difficult to remember the crest that you’re surely bound to sail into. Learning how to have faith when all hope and happiness seems broken is what much of growing up is.

The indescribable satisfaction that comes in self-destruction…an act refined by this most recent generation. Glamorized and publicized; an entire people focused on mass produced “suffering”. It just doesn’t have the same impact anymore, but to the people who don’t care if anyone is listening, reading, watching, or thinking, it’ll carry on with steady, damaging, persistence...despite the fact that it is positively ridiculous.

Suffocating your body of fluid, its so easy to watch your blood congeal to sludge and feel your heart pound with exhaustion even in sleep. Weight dips, waist slips, and soon you’re smaller than you probably should be.

Well I’m jumping from this boat and I’m going to surf these waves. I’m sick of this trough and I’m catching me a crest to somewhere new. I’ll let you know what its like when I get there.

P.S. I really miss opening up my door and finding four boys outside it...

I Want To Move To

Denmark
P.S. Venture Brother's just made a Royal Tenenbuams reference by using the term "friscalating" within the current episode.

When me and Pam were first in love...we hated to be apart, even for an hour.

Oh, yeah. I had something like that once. A real fuck-a-thon.

We just slept. We loved to sleep when it was time to sleep. Not sex. I mean, we had sex...but what we really loved was to sleep like babies all day long.

That sounds perfect.

Update

I'm in Florida, I hate it.

I was not made for this...I long for the snow, the cold, and the friends that wait for me back in chicago. Being here has only forced a greater hatred for tourism, commercialism, consumption, and the increasing issues that face our society, economy, and well...you get it, lengthy rant not necessary.

Many pictures to come stemming as far back as halloween and going on to such subjects as...thanksgiving, chocolate wars, parade outside my window, time with michael, paul comes home, and my bittersweet documentation of my time in disney...a less than magical place might I add, the photos hopefully will reflect that...although Florida did provide me a unique opportunity to indulge in the pleasures of organic growth that really is kind of absent back in Illinois at this time.

All that being said, keep your eyes pealed for new posts...I cannot wait to be home.

Most of the time I’m running and I can feel my heart palpitating slapping at the cage of calcium and marrow surrounding it, anxious to get out but why I cannot ever know or say. I can feel my legs gelatinous and desperate swishing under me like weights being flung forward by blind ambition and terror. Its not clear if I’m running to or away, only running and with such fever and hopeless passion.

I want the whole world to see me through a blind man’s eyes, and I scream at the bottom of my lungs as I quietly listen to my life roar past, reminding me that I’m growing closer to something I don’t understand nor care to.

Waves of frustration surround me as I question the catastrophe and wreckage that will be brought by every word that passes through my lips and spills through the keyboard. I’m too hopeless to care, but tomorrow’s disappoints will point out yesterdays mistakes.

But what can be done about it now? This I don’t know, this is what haunts me tonight.

Time To Untie My Knapsack

I've been running away for the past few months and I'm not sure from what I just know the desperate feeling that consumes me…

“Only after disaster can we be resurrected”

This summer shattered my soul and it hurt like hell but it was after it all that I could gather the pieces and have slowly begun to rebuild myself. I was forced to face what I was making of my life and it felt false and empty. Until that point I feel I had created the me I wanted to be, but the life I was living was not the one I desired. I felt a lack or compulsion and passion, absent of happiness and driven by instinct, sympathy…blindly wandering the corridors of my “life”.

I’m still working everything out, and in this process I have pretty much abandoned my old life. Well, to be fair, there is still a good portion that remains, but at the very least, I feel as if I have left so much behind me and I’m trying to retrace my steps and pick up what I left behind in my hast to retreat from the deafening storm.

I’m recovering…I’m coming back…please be patient.

I See You, Do You See Me

Today I was walking and I really started to focus on my glasses. For those who have never worn glasses, I think the hardest thing to get used to is the fact that you can only see the world clearly through the lenses of your glasses, venture outside these boundaries, faces blur and inanimate objects instantly adopt an anthropomorphic quality…which can be amusing or devastatingly embarrassing. It’s just weird I suppose, and for an hour or so it takes some time to get used to it. You keep seeing the rims of the glasses.

All of this got me thinking…am I still seeing the rims now (now that I’m used it them)? I mean sure, if I want to see them and think about it I can…but the rest of the time I completely block it out. This makes me uneasy. What else in life have I so simply blocked out with little disregard? What happens to that message; that fire of electrical impulses sending the sight of these rims through my mind? Is it completely lost, irrelevant, and if so, how can I consciously then regain my awareness of them? This brings up the concept of lost energy…if these impulses are still being sent, how can I not be seeing them, how can they be ignored? Its like when you’re reading and someone is talking…are your eardrums not vibrating with the frequency of their voice? It would seem most logical, and frankly most probable that you eardrums are in fact, still vibrating, and the impulses are still being sent to your brain, so the ultimate question remains, what happens to all of this lost thought?



Recycling doesn’t begin at the curb with your aluminum and cardboard, it’s here in our minds.