Monday, December 26, 2011
Doo doo doo
Started work on chapter 2 of xXRx-333, it's sounding good so far. Working more with guitars and vocals, a more aggressive sound, yet I think it ties well with the other material. I can't wait to see how it progresses.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Familiarity
I chased something I didn't want, so naturally when I caught it, I didn't appreciate it. Catch and release, so why am I hating myself for letting it go?
The heart is fickle, and chooses the opposite if what the brain tells it to. So I'm missing something I didn't want... How do you fill a void, created by ignorance? Every bone in my body, every ounce of my being said,"don't do this again." but the heart... It gets what it wants, and ruins the perfectly functioning cycle set forth to save the soul from injury, humiliation and pain.
This is where music is born, poetry conceived, and art sketched, in the throes of regret.
The heart is fickle, and chooses the opposite if what the brain tells it to. So I'm missing something I didn't want... How do you fill a void, created by ignorance? Every bone in my body, every ounce of my being said,"don't do this again." but the heart... It gets what it wants, and ruins the perfectly functioning cycle set forth to save the soul from injury, humiliation and pain.
This is where music is born, poetry conceived, and art sketched, in the throes of regret.
Escapism
Everyone wants to hear how great the progress on our work is. It's going well, photography, music, darqpress, and a few projects we haven't even announced yet.
I'm so busy writing my life, I have no time to live it. There is a hole where my heart used to be, now filled with every time consuming project I can take on.
I either waste my days or fill them chasing other people's dreams. I've simplified aspects of my day to day life, just to see other parts grow more complex.
I won't sit here and wine about how dark my personal life has become, it's not all bad. I am probably at the peak of my musical composition, I sit down daily and write music that quite accurately, even if disturbing... Conveys how I feel.
I've slowed photography, split between winter weather and lack of creative vision. The more I have to work with, the less I seem to envision.
Love was in my crosshairs, and at least I gave it one last try, that would be a long story to tell. Summary: I am open to finding someone, but I'm not wasting time looking. If I'm to ever find compassion in another's arms, it will be obvious, not sought.
Back to work... I just didn't want to abuse my blogging privileges again. It's been a lifetime since I've written here. So much has transpired it's hard to even convey in a way that others would comprehend.
I'm so busy writing my life, I have no time to live it. There is a hole where my heart used to be, now filled with every time consuming project I can take on.
I either waste my days or fill them chasing other people's dreams. I've simplified aspects of my day to day life, just to see other parts grow more complex.
I won't sit here and wine about how dark my personal life has become, it's not all bad. I am probably at the peak of my musical composition, I sit down daily and write music that quite accurately, even if disturbing... Conveys how I feel.
I've slowed photography, split between winter weather and lack of creative vision. The more I have to work with, the less I seem to envision.
Love was in my crosshairs, and at least I gave it one last try, that would be a long story to tell. Summary: I am open to finding someone, but I'm not wasting time looking. If I'm to ever find compassion in another's arms, it will be obvious, not sought.
Back to work... I just didn't want to abuse my blogging privileges again. It's been a lifetime since I've written here. So much has transpired it's hard to even convey in a way that others would comprehend.
Friday, October 21, 2011
I don't want to:
Give up, because I feel like I have been, consumed with impending doom thoughts, and just let life slip through my fingers.
Give in, thoughts of settling for less than what I actually desire have been on my mind a lot lately. Why should anyone settle? If I know what I want, then that's what I should seek.
Lose sight again so easily. I've been easily distracted from my goals lately, and there has been plenty to be distracted with, but I'd rather be productive than anything right now.
Write anything else here currently, because I have better things to be doing today.
Give up, because I feel like I have been, consumed with impending doom thoughts, and just let life slip through my fingers.
Give in, thoughts of settling for less than what I actually desire have been on my mind a lot lately. Why should anyone settle? If I know what I want, then that's what I should seek.
Lose sight again so easily. I've been easily distracted from my goals lately, and there has been plenty to be distracted with, but I'd rather be productive than anything right now.
Write anything else here currently, because I have better things to be doing today.
You can't grow up fast enough, until you're here and unprepared. I was the baby of the family, as the youngest, I never felt like I was taken seriously, and always walked in someone else's shadow.
The achievements of my sibling always seemed important to my family, as I grew older this sense of detachment and low self worth, caused me to grow into a black sheep, for years I put away any ideas of music or art, and cared little for anything other than skating and smoking. While there are plenty of memories and lifelong friendships born from those years, I simply was not myself. That's not to say I was being fake, I was just stifled under a haze of smoke and a sense of restlessness. I still feel restless but I try to harness that into my projects these days. As I grew older tools for making art and music found their way into my hands more often, of course I also began a family, which of course came first.
As my hobbies became more serious, they blossomed into career choices, which was a life long goal, but when your dreams can become your life, you realize if it's expected of you, it loses some of it's magic. When it's simply for fun, or a healthy outlet to voice yourself through, the world feels limitless.
When I started with music, it was hardware synthesizers, or dos based sampling/sequencing, so limited it was a chore just keeping steady rhythms and basic ideas took tons of effort to get from thought to reality. Now I have things gathering dust, that I couldn't even imagine existing back then, there are forms of synthesis that simply weren't thought of yet. The phone I'm typing on right now has more processing power, 8x the storage, and the ability to make music better than the computer I had back then. Few people even remember dos, and even less ever bothered with it. Now I can get a computer or synth for a fraction of what they cost, when they could barely handle anything. I digress, the point is the more tools I have, the more limited I feel in other ways. If I'd have handed myself a Nord lead 16 years ago, it would've blown my mind, yet right now, sadly, I don't have the space to even setup half my hardware, 2/3 of my bands rely on a bulk of music written on a computer rather than hardware recording.
Artistically, I used to sculpt, paint, and photograph everything. Yesterday I put pencil to paper and drew, and it felt so good just to draw again. I still photograph constantly and now film is a new avenue I can explore. When the mood strikes I love stop animation, but once again it's something I seldom take time for. There's a fancy little pen tablet in the corner, by the time we had the means to get one I was simply just used to using a mouse to paint and edit with, I'd love to start using it, but the reality is by the time I'm done getting the feel for it, the inspiration has usually passed.
As always my rant has led us very south of my original context. I actually wanted to talk about growing up seeking the approval of my family, where it's led me, and what it's taught me.
My brother is talented, he can sculpt, draw and sing like no other. I wish he'd take his art more seriously these days, he still sings, we even share a project now. As a child I watched my parents take joy in every achievement he made, and I didn't feel focused enough to hone any of my skills, I simply gave up eventually. A piece of me has always been an artist, even during the darker parts of my life I was always sketching or doing something creative, I merely didn't place any value on the finished product. My skills took me seriously long before I had any faith in them. I found myself on ever-growing stages, on the radio, in print, and signing autographs... It's still unreal to me some of things I've managed to accomplish. I never thought I'd have a distribution contract or be a cover photographer. Yet, the thing that has always plagued me, the shadow I never escaped. My achievements were of secular value, and my family was Christian, to the point the secular world had little place in our home. So my achievements, while amazing, felt too little, too late, or simply not recognized. I could this very second ask my father to name any song, magazine, or basically any affiliation I've ever had, an he could not tell me. Which after the first few things garnered little approval, I don't bother showing him, or telling him much anymore. My mother supports the idea of the life I lead, but really has little comprehension of the actual material. She's always been very patient with the very odd things that tend to surround me, yet I doubt she understands what the overall purpose is.
So, to my friends and fans over the years, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It's hard for me to tolerate myself most days, but I constantly get affirmation that others are always watching and listening. When I struggle through hard times and grow silent, I usually think about the people that hopefully find inspiration in what I do. This always leads me to document my way out of hardships, to simply create an escape from what troubles me. Thank you, I hope some small part of who I am has changed your life in some way. That is any artists true, pure intent. To mark some tiny corner of this world that may live on after me, if not physically than in someone's heart, I've accomplished what I set out to do.
The achievements of my sibling always seemed important to my family, as I grew older this sense of detachment and low self worth, caused me to grow into a black sheep, for years I put away any ideas of music or art, and cared little for anything other than skating and smoking. While there are plenty of memories and lifelong friendships born from those years, I simply was not myself. That's not to say I was being fake, I was just stifled under a haze of smoke and a sense of restlessness. I still feel restless but I try to harness that into my projects these days. As I grew older tools for making art and music found their way into my hands more often, of course I also began a family, which of course came first.
As my hobbies became more serious, they blossomed into career choices, which was a life long goal, but when your dreams can become your life, you realize if it's expected of you, it loses some of it's magic. When it's simply for fun, or a healthy outlet to voice yourself through, the world feels limitless.
When I started with music, it was hardware synthesizers, or dos based sampling/sequencing, so limited it was a chore just keeping steady rhythms and basic ideas took tons of effort to get from thought to reality. Now I have things gathering dust, that I couldn't even imagine existing back then, there are forms of synthesis that simply weren't thought of yet. The phone I'm typing on right now has more processing power, 8x the storage, and the ability to make music better than the computer I had back then. Few people even remember dos, and even less ever bothered with it. Now I can get a computer or synth for a fraction of what they cost, when they could barely handle anything. I digress, the point is the more tools I have, the more limited I feel in other ways. If I'd have handed myself a Nord lead 16 years ago, it would've blown my mind, yet right now, sadly, I don't have the space to even setup half my hardware, 2/3 of my bands rely on a bulk of music written on a computer rather than hardware recording.
Artistically, I used to sculpt, paint, and photograph everything. Yesterday I put pencil to paper and drew, and it felt so good just to draw again. I still photograph constantly and now film is a new avenue I can explore. When the mood strikes I love stop animation, but once again it's something I seldom take time for. There's a fancy little pen tablet in the corner, by the time we had the means to get one I was simply just used to using a mouse to paint and edit with, I'd love to start using it, but the reality is by the time I'm done getting the feel for it, the inspiration has usually passed.
As always my rant has led us very south of my original context. I actually wanted to talk about growing up seeking the approval of my family, where it's led me, and what it's taught me.
My brother is talented, he can sculpt, draw and sing like no other. I wish he'd take his art more seriously these days, he still sings, we even share a project now. As a child I watched my parents take joy in every achievement he made, and I didn't feel focused enough to hone any of my skills, I simply gave up eventually. A piece of me has always been an artist, even during the darker parts of my life I was always sketching or doing something creative, I merely didn't place any value on the finished product. My skills took me seriously long before I had any faith in them. I found myself on ever-growing stages, on the radio, in print, and signing autographs... It's still unreal to me some of things I've managed to accomplish. I never thought I'd have a distribution contract or be a cover photographer. Yet, the thing that has always plagued me, the shadow I never escaped. My achievements were of secular value, and my family was Christian, to the point the secular world had little place in our home. So my achievements, while amazing, felt too little, too late, or simply not recognized. I could this very second ask my father to name any song, magazine, or basically any affiliation I've ever had, an he could not tell me. Which after the first few things garnered little approval, I don't bother showing him, or telling him much anymore. My mother supports the idea of the life I lead, but really has little comprehension of the actual material. She's always been very patient with the very odd things that tend to surround me, yet I doubt she understands what the overall purpose is.
So, to my friends and fans over the years, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It's hard for me to tolerate myself most days, but I constantly get affirmation that others are always watching and listening. When I struggle through hard times and grow silent, I usually think about the people that hopefully find inspiration in what I do. This always leads me to document my way out of hardships, to simply create an escape from what troubles me. Thank you, I hope some small part of who I am has changed your life in some way. That is any artists true, pure intent. To mark some tiny corner of this world that may live on after me, if not physically than in someone's heart, I've accomplished what I set out to do.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Am I in sync?
I feel as though my study of life cycles, not in the sense of birth/life/death, but in that of ones tendency to repeat what makes them comfortable, be it healthy or not, they seek that which they know. I digress back on point, I'm starting to question if the knowledge and free will to step outside of this cycle cause chaos. My life has great turmoil right now, and only after months of being outside where I would usually feel comfortable, do I see that if I simply stepped back in sync at some point half the issues would vanish. They are somewhat caused by my misalignment. Events occur and make themselves known that would allow me to step back in easily, and now that I look back, it seems almost like the longer I stay on this path, the harder it gets, while I could sleepwalk through a mundane spoon-fed life inside my comfort zone.
I've studied numerology and fate cycles, I believe this to be closely related, I've just never taken number data down to smaller increments, fate cycles are usually measured in years and decades, yet people's lives repeat daily. A small stray may feel adventurous, yet easy to sync back in. Think about a vacation... When you return home, everything feels strange for a minute, then you step back into your life, in some cases even having to make up for time lost. We don't question it either; time wasn't lost, it was spent somewhere else, so why does it have to be recompinsated?
Is the chaos I feel on a daily basis, the void inside me, telling me something? I feel goals, tendencies, and obvious invitations to be who I once was. Study of myself and psychology, and attempting to evolve into a person I could deem, "better", may have thrown me of some part of a pre-ordained idea or path to where I was meant to be. This sounds insane, of course. This is completely theoretical, as such I probably shouldn't even speak of it.
Do you not have some idea of where you will be in a month? A year? That is projected probability based on your current path and the cycles you live inside of. You've built constraints and constructed a path, that few tend to question. Adventurous souls have weekend hobbies, however extreme, but feel selfish for having them. People off of their cycle for long times are probably nomadic, almost gypsy, or mentally unstable. It's not easy to attempt directing chaos, even worse now that I understand I've chosen this chaos. Not a single bad thing that has happened this year, in probability, would have happened on my normal path, they are all cause based, traceable back to where I ,"should" have been when they happened. Fate may be a bit more fickle than we expect.
Two choices present themselves: I can shut up, take the next chance to leap back into my life, or I can further explore a painful theory. The point though, is not to always choose the easy path, but to step back and logically choose, I usually choose on some karmic scale, often suffering for some ripple of an unseen greater good, an idea of morally right. This lands me in strange patterns, making life almost impossible to navigate. Once again I digress, to map it, or attempt to, would be to create a formula for a chaos cycle, as opposed to fate cycle, charting and math would be involved, but I'm guessing in a non-linear way. From studying music I've learned to enjoy 3/4 signatures, swing or almost anti-rhythmic styles. An anti-math might have to be used in the deconstruction of fate, the ultimate goal I'm guessing would be how to step successfully out of the self that fate and planning has built, without catastrophic results. Our reality is not,(for us) matter, molecules, gravity and planets; our reality is waking up in our bed, going through our routine and returning to slumber. Which begs the questioning of dream state and it's role in our lives too. The id and how to change it's needs, all conjecture at this point.
I'll be the old man that locked himself in a room with a urine bottle drawing circles and spirals on the wall.
I've studied numerology and fate cycles, I believe this to be closely related, I've just never taken number data down to smaller increments, fate cycles are usually measured in years and decades, yet people's lives repeat daily. A small stray may feel adventurous, yet easy to sync back in. Think about a vacation... When you return home, everything feels strange for a minute, then you step back into your life, in some cases even having to make up for time lost. We don't question it either; time wasn't lost, it was spent somewhere else, so why does it have to be recompinsated?
Is the chaos I feel on a daily basis, the void inside me, telling me something? I feel goals, tendencies, and obvious invitations to be who I once was. Study of myself and psychology, and attempting to evolve into a person I could deem, "better", may have thrown me of some part of a pre-ordained idea or path to where I was meant to be. This sounds insane, of course. This is completely theoretical, as such I probably shouldn't even speak of it.
Do you not have some idea of where you will be in a month? A year? That is projected probability based on your current path and the cycles you live inside of. You've built constraints and constructed a path, that few tend to question. Adventurous souls have weekend hobbies, however extreme, but feel selfish for having them. People off of their cycle for long times are probably nomadic, almost gypsy, or mentally unstable. It's not easy to attempt directing chaos, even worse now that I understand I've chosen this chaos. Not a single bad thing that has happened this year, in probability, would have happened on my normal path, they are all cause based, traceable back to where I ,"should" have been when they happened. Fate may be a bit more fickle than we expect.
Two choices present themselves: I can shut up, take the next chance to leap back into my life, or I can further explore a painful theory. The point though, is not to always choose the easy path, but to step back and logically choose, I usually choose on some karmic scale, often suffering for some ripple of an unseen greater good, an idea of morally right. This lands me in strange patterns, making life almost impossible to navigate. Once again I digress, to map it, or attempt to, would be to create a formula for a chaos cycle, as opposed to fate cycle, charting and math would be involved, but I'm guessing in a non-linear way. From studying music I've learned to enjoy 3/4 signatures, swing or almost anti-rhythmic styles. An anti-math might have to be used in the deconstruction of fate, the ultimate goal I'm guessing would be how to step successfully out of the self that fate and planning has built, without catastrophic results. Our reality is not,(for us) matter, molecules, gravity and planets; our reality is waking up in our bed, going through our routine and returning to slumber. Which begs the questioning of dream state and it's role in our lives too. The id and how to change it's needs, all conjecture at this point.
I'll be the old man that locked himself in a room with a urine bottle drawing circles and spirals on the wall.
Mutter.
"Don't hug people in public." this sounds odd, but in structure, makes sense. So we attempt to find a quick route to meaning and explanation. While the shortness of this sentence is not worth the dissection of it's whole parts, it was muttered from someone who suffers from mental illness. Strange things said in pairing, or spoken from nowhere and having no resolution or explanation, show signs of illness. My mother is sick, we've already taken her to the hospital, the psych ward, and this is what has returned to us.
As family, we have no right to question the hospital on her diagnosis, or what medications she is supposed to take. Trust comes into play, hoping a sick person will not hide things from us. Conspiracies and shame usually lead to aborting pharmicudical regimen.
So how then, do we help the person sitting in dark rooms, peeking around corners, asking questions that have no answers? If modern medicine deems the semi-annual, complete breakdown and incomplete reconstruction of this persons psyche to be passible as treatment, how are we to question it?
It's called guardianship, and it's not pretty. I can't say I'm sane, and I certainly am not maintaining my own affairs, yet one of my only choices to make sure she leads a healthy and happy life, is to go to court and take over as her guardian. I'd have to determine her choices and tell her legally what to do. What gives me that right? She should seek health and happiness by default, but the wiring doesn't allow her to see the ling and short effects of medical treatment... This from a person that technically has more abbreviations before her name than most doctors.
I am unfit, I am not well, I cannot direct someone else to a path I can't find myself. It's easy to say what should be done, but it's quite another to actually execute a plan to help this person.
I am at a loss. Stunted by my comprehension of how the medical community can simply ignore what should be a case study for them. If they don't understand this, then why do they not enquire, and get to know this illness?
As family, we have no right to question the hospital on her diagnosis, or what medications she is supposed to take. Trust comes into play, hoping a sick person will not hide things from us. Conspiracies and shame usually lead to aborting pharmicudical regimen.
So how then, do we help the person sitting in dark rooms, peeking around corners, asking questions that have no answers? If modern medicine deems the semi-annual, complete breakdown and incomplete reconstruction of this persons psyche to be passible as treatment, how are we to question it?
It's called guardianship, and it's not pretty. I can't say I'm sane, and I certainly am not maintaining my own affairs, yet one of my only choices to make sure she leads a healthy and happy life, is to go to court and take over as her guardian. I'd have to determine her choices and tell her legally what to do. What gives me that right? She should seek health and happiness by default, but the wiring doesn't allow her to see the ling and short effects of medical treatment... This from a person that technically has more abbreviations before her name than most doctors.
I am unfit, I am not well, I cannot direct someone else to a path I can't find myself. It's easy to say what should be done, but it's quite another to actually execute a plan to help this person.
I am at a loss. Stunted by my comprehension of how the medical community can simply ignore what should be a case study for them. If they don't understand this, then why do they not enquire, and get to know this illness?
I just want to say something.
I'm about to post a couple things, that are hard to post. Right now I just want to say this:
Stop trying to find self-worth and completion in the crotch of others. It's simply not located there.
Stop trying to find self-worth and completion in the crotch of others. It's simply not located there.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Honesty, that's what I strive for, so here goes...
I'm depressed, severely. It is only short-term and I recognize this, so I treat it thusly. No harsh or dramatic decisions, just taking my schedule down a notch for a minute.
I have several weekly commitments I can't break, or I would probably let some taper off for a bit, but they are at critical stages in their development, and I don't want them to suffer on my behalf.
Where to start? Population: 0 is doing amazing, shows every couple weeks, the fan-base is growing by bounds, we can't keep up with the demand, but love trying. The "dames " are soon to be announced, once a cohesive balance is in place, it's been hard on everyone's schedules, but this project is very important to us as well.
Photography demand became so high, I've stepped back for a minute, with four shoots scheduled, I've been quickly filling 1.5 tb drives with material, being involved with music, photography and now cinematography, the strain on my disc space is overwhelming (imagine how my brain feels).
Most of my depression would be linked to a mixture of evolving cocktails of medication trying to get my anxiety back under control, but a major part is my mothers illness. We took her to the hospital this week, she's yet to return, it always stirs emotions inside us when our mother gets ill like this.
Another reason for depression is calling my very freedom into question, I can't even speak about this technically, but for reasons out of my control, you may not see
me for a very long time, this of course puts a burden on my back. It also forces me to question how to spend the time I have available, do I get all of my projects lined up and working on their own? Do I sit and feel upset that I miss my kids so much? Do I go into overdrive and produce art and music so much I can't think? Do I get my mental and physical self healthy and prepared? Do I seek a life of less solitude, seek out love and companionship? That last question wasn't even on the plate until I realized there is a hole in my heart, I have so much to offer, and no one to share it with. My late night musings fall in silence. People of late, that have recently met me have questioned my sense of humor; I'm actually a very light-hearted, fun person, just a person faced with very serious issues currently. I spend a good portion of my day care-free still, but it's not fixing the topics at hand.
My anxiety has reared it's ugly head once again, and estranged me from those I love, if they don't seek me out and force social interaction, they don't hear from me at all.
I am a smart, fun, intelligent person. I am also lonely, troubled, anxious and depressed. I clearly recognize both hemispheres of my reality, and often it is the source for inspiration.
I try to hush my feelings of loneliness, celibate now for 15 months, minus one incident months ago that filled me with regret. I question how healthy a partner could be for me, and how healthy I could be for them. Then I also realize merely questioning these things means I'm in a better position than most to move forward with my love life. Most blindly jump into things that they regret.
Cycles, my new fascination. Speaking psychologically and spiritually. I see everyone around me in proverbial hamster wheels. Repeating the same mistakes, and reaching for the same goals, but never actually taking steps to obtaining those goals, nor questioning if this goal will actually help them achieve any semblance of happiness. I have my cycles too, certainly, but I'm striving to break them. Merely writing these pieces of my soul and sharing with everyone, is a great leap towards breaking mine. Once I(and anyone that reads this far) recognizes my faults, they seem a bit less intimidating.
I suppose if I'm to share one last part of me, a hard one... Many parts of my life come under fire, I am always under someone's scope, while that could be the rant of a paranoid mind, I have daily affirmations of it's existence. From suspension, my lifestyle, my photography, music, and place in life; these things are scrutinized by others constantly. The more mature side of me says, "who cares, I know my life is justified, and I'm doing great things", the less mature, yet seldom seen side says,"damn why do people care what I do, and why do they see it in such a negative light? Do they have nothing better to do than dissect something they don't understand?" I could put that more brazenly, but there's no reason to lose composure at this point.
Vague, yes. You'd have to know me or ask to understand some of this, but there is a little comment button right there->
I'm depressed, severely. It is only short-term and I recognize this, so I treat it thusly. No harsh or dramatic decisions, just taking my schedule down a notch for a minute.
I have several weekly commitments I can't break, or I would probably let some taper off for a bit, but they are at critical stages in their development, and I don't want them to suffer on my behalf.
Where to start? Population: 0 is doing amazing, shows every couple weeks, the fan-base is growing by bounds, we can't keep up with the demand, but love trying. The "dames " are soon to be announced, once a cohesive balance is in place, it's been hard on everyone's schedules, but this project is very important to us as well.
Photography demand became so high, I've stepped back for a minute, with four shoots scheduled, I've been quickly filling 1.5 tb drives with material, being involved with music, photography and now cinematography, the strain on my disc space is overwhelming (imagine how my brain feels).
Most of my depression would be linked to a mixture of evolving cocktails of medication trying to get my anxiety back under control, but a major part is my mothers illness. We took her to the hospital this week, she's yet to return, it always stirs emotions inside us when our mother gets ill like this.
Another reason for depression is calling my very freedom into question, I can't even speak about this technically, but for reasons out of my control, you may not see
me for a very long time, this of course puts a burden on my back. It also forces me to question how to spend the time I have available, do I get all of my projects lined up and working on their own? Do I sit and feel upset that I miss my kids so much? Do I go into overdrive and produce art and music so much I can't think? Do I get my mental and physical self healthy and prepared? Do I seek a life of less solitude, seek out love and companionship? That last question wasn't even on the plate until I realized there is a hole in my heart, I have so much to offer, and no one to share it with. My late night musings fall in silence. People of late, that have recently met me have questioned my sense of humor; I'm actually a very light-hearted, fun person, just a person faced with very serious issues currently. I spend a good portion of my day care-free still, but it's not fixing the topics at hand.
My anxiety has reared it's ugly head once again, and estranged me from those I love, if they don't seek me out and force social interaction, they don't hear from me at all.
I am a smart, fun, intelligent person. I am also lonely, troubled, anxious and depressed. I clearly recognize both hemispheres of my reality, and often it is the source for inspiration.
I try to hush my feelings of loneliness, celibate now for 15 months, minus one incident months ago that filled me with regret. I question how healthy a partner could be for me, and how healthy I could be for them. Then I also realize merely questioning these things means I'm in a better position than most to move forward with my love life. Most blindly jump into things that they regret.
Cycles, my new fascination. Speaking psychologically and spiritually. I see everyone around me in proverbial hamster wheels. Repeating the same mistakes, and reaching for the same goals, but never actually taking steps to obtaining those goals, nor questioning if this goal will actually help them achieve any semblance of happiness. I have my cycles too, certainly, but I'm striving to break them. Merely writing these pieces of my soul and sharing with everyone, is a great leap towards breaking mine. Once I(and anyone that reads this far) recognizes my faults, they seem a bit less intimidating.
I suppose if I'm to share one last part of me, a hard one... Many parts of my life come under fire, I am always under someone's scope, while that could be the rant of a paranoid mind, I have daily affirmations of it's existence. From suspension, my lifestyle, my photography, music, and place in life; these things are scrutinized by others constantly. The more mature side of me says, "who cares, I know my life is justified, and I'm doing great things", the less mature, yet seldom seen side says,"damn why do people care what I do, and why do they see it in such a negative light? Do they have nothing better to do than dissect something they don't understand?" I could put that more brazenly, but there's no reason to lose composure at this point.
Vague, yes. You'd have to know me or ask to understand some of this, but there is a little comment button right there->
Shhh.
I can apparently only exist between the hours of 3am and 6am, and I'd better be quiet while doing so. Anything less pisses someone off.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
I hook and I'm proud.
I hook and I'm proud.
Against the advisement of local suspension crews, I choose to speak on how society and the media in general views "us", in quotations because as we feel like a family, we all have a very personal reason for going through this process in our personal and spiritual lives.
The generalization of why becomes the downfall on local levels, it defeats the point of gathering to celebrate life, which is why we undergo this process in some manner of the term.
Legislation can only do so much to control our lives, and this infringes on too many levels to be allowed any more. I may be shunned from my own local organization, just for talking publicly about our lifestyle. It is my conscious choice to speak out against the tyranny of the press and small town mentality; which stands heavily on the same amendments we weigh heavily on.
So why do we appose individuals that support the same rights we hold dear? Because we don't understand them. While we speak and seek truth with one cheek, we judge and accuse with the other.
I will not name nor associate myself with any local or national groups that undergo the process of suspension, or pain rituals, yet I've toured the country to support these groups. If I must stand alone, I will. We have the right to seek enlightenment through these means. I'm Indian by blood and this was part of my heritage, yet who am I to question why anyone else would choose this life?
Take away this right, take away the right to smoke in public(wait, they did). What's next? Think you're safe? Because your life choice seems "under the radar"? Why should they stop there? One right at a time, that's how it all started. The process repeats itself. Smoke, pierce, tattoo, live life. Skydiving is incredibly dangerous, yet there has never been a court that has questioned our freedom to drop from the sky and depend on a thin layer of fabric to save us. We are different, but so are you, such is life. Small things make us different, they also make us beautiful.
Against the advisement of local suspension crews, I choose to speak on how society and the media in general views "us", in quotations because as we feel like a family, we all have a very personal reason for going through this process in our personal and spiritual lives.
The generalization of why becomes the downfall on local levels, it defeats the point of gathering to celebrate life, which is why we undergo this process in some manner of the term.
Legislation can only do so much to control our lives, and this infringes on too many levels to be allowed any more. I may be shunned from my own local organization, just for talking publicly about our lifestyle. It is my conscious choice to speak out against the tyranny of the press and small town mentality; which stands heavily on the same amendments we weigh heavily on.
So why do we appose individuals that support the same rights we hold dear? Because we don't understand them. While we speak and seek truth with one cheek, we judge and accuse with the other.
I will not name nor associate myself with any local or national groups that undergo the process of suspension, or pain rituals, yet I've toured the country to support these groups. If I must stand alone, I will. We have the right to seek enlightenment through these means. I'm Indian by blood and this was part of my heritage, yet who am I to question why anyone else would choose this life?
Take away this right, take away the right to smoke in public(wait, they did). What's next? Think you're safe? Because your life choice seems "under the radar"? Why should they stop there? One right at a time, that's how it all started. The process repeats itself. Smoke, pierce, tattoo, live life. Skydiving is incredibly dangerous, yet there has never been a court that has questioned our freedom to drop from the sky and depend on a thin layer of fabric to save us. We are different, but so are you, such is life. Small things make us different, they also make us beautiful.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Projects
I've taken on a sea of creative work, and while I love every minute of it all, I think xXRx speaks to me, insisting on attention. Eating my days away until the sounds are just right. I can't undergo that level of scrutiny with the other projects and while it's exhausting, I think it's exactly what I need.
I suppose this o's an apology, if I ever seem to be distant, xXRx is my blood, I'm always "there" writing.
I suppose this o's an apology, if I ever seem to be distant, xXRx is my blood, I'm always "there" writing.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Oct 5th
No that's not today's date. It's one month away. One month I have to decide what becomes of my life, or someone else will choose it for me. A trash basket landed me in this decision making process, something so small will change my life forever. I can either walk out of prison almost 50 years old, or I can take my life. Suicide is never the answer, I know. When you're faced with this, I give you permission to choose what's best for you. Considering the type of person I am, and my health status, a fifty year old man won't be walking out anyways. The two most likely scenarios... I get beaten so badly that I don't recover, or my depression leads me to starvation or worse. Given those choices, I have no idea what to do. I enjoy life so much, and I've wasted so much time on things that don't matter; now with one month left, I'm still suffering from anxiety daily, making it nearly impossible to leave my home.
My children, I love them so much, and I hate missing them everyday. What they must think of their failed father. I've been trying to fix my life, but this incident from nine months ago, drags it into oblivion.
I thought I'd met someone, worth my celibacy, worth my live and UNDYING respect. It crashed before it took off. It was great privately, but to cross glances once in public, I got the cold shoulder. Even the respect of saying hi, to acknowledge what you want from me, would have sufficed. Just to desire her, broke so many of my personal rules on dating. Even though that hurt, she is amazing, and will have a great life.
As I watch the days peel back, revealing nerves I've never had exposed, every tick of the clock mocks me. Don't worry, I'm sure it'll end happy, I won't choose to end my pain, instead I'll be sent away because of an accident that didn't hurt anyone or cause any damage. I'll fight or I'll waste away, and somehow that makes your freedom of daily life easier to choke up and waste. It's been great chatting, I may not make another entry here.
To those that know some aspect of me, to those I've shared part of my life with, I love every single one of you, I wish I could've been more social, a bit more honest about the torment I hide in my heart, I wish I could have loved more, made more art, shared my world with you. It's been an interesting journey, I hope I've left a piece of me behind.
My children, I love them so much, and I hate missing them everyday. What they must think of their failed father. I've been trying to fix my life, but this incident from nine months ago, drags it into oblivion.
I thought I'd met someone, worth my celibacy, worth my live and UNDYING respect. It crashed before it took off. It was great privately, but to cross glances once in public, I got the cold shoulder. Even the respect of saying hi, to acknowledge what you want from me, would have sufficed. Just to desire her, broke so many of my personal rules on dating. Even though that hurt, she is amazing, and will have a great life.
As I watch the days peel back, revealing nerves I've never had exposed, every tick of the clock mocks me. Don't worry, I'm sure it'll end happy, I won't choose to end my pain, instead I'll be sent away because of an accident that didn't hurt anyone or cause any damage. I'll fight or I'll waste away, and somehow that makes your freedom of daily life easier to choke up and waste. It's been great chatting, I may not make another entry here.
To those that know some aspect of me, to those I've shared part of my life with, I love every single one of you, I wish I could've been more social, a bit more honest about the torment I hide in my heart, I wish I could have loved more, made more art, shared my world with you. It's been an interesting journey, I hope I've left a piece of me behind.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
I haven't talked in a while.
I had the most wonderful night last night. Yet, tonight even after having a great evening conversing with friends I'm left crying.
How do you help you mother understand, and accept that the next 15 years of her sons life will be spent in prison. A trashcan fire that did no damage, will cause me to be 47 before I see daylight again. How do you help anyone understand it? I can't accept it myself, an yet I think I've accepted it better than anyone that's heard it. They know I'm innocent though. I will rot in prison because I "look" guilty. Someone with dreadlocks, several tattoos and piercings, must be guilty. I'd love to finish this eloquently, but I'm upset... Signing off.
How do you help you mother understand, and accept that the next 15 years of her sons life will be spent in prison. A trashcan fire that did no damage, will cause me to be 47 before I see daylight again. How do you help anyone understand it? I can't accept it myself, an yet I think I've accepted it better than anyone that's heard it. They know I'm innocent though. I will rot in prison because I "look" guilty. Someone with dreadlocks, several tattoos and piercings, must be guilty. I'd love to finish this eloquently, but I'm upset... Signing off.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
AGRO life.
I'm a hooker. Anyone that knows me very well, knows I take part in and support pain rituals. For me, it allows me to express something I feel in a healthy, safe way. I've been taking part in some manner for years now, I've toured with the pain tribe twice, and they are still family to me. AGRO suspension has started a local crew here, and I am a full supporter from the ground floor. I'm excited to see what limits I can test fir myself, and happy in knowing this will take us amazing places, meeting great people. You meet someone once in the suspension community, they are your friend. Normal society and all of the issues you face, have no place with hooks, it's as if the pain strips away all attitudes and leaves decent, nice people. You'd expect the opposite when you walk into a room full of heavily tattooed people shoving hooks into their flesh, but all you'll see is smiles on their faces, and supportive words leaving their lips. I'm hoping to learn to throw hooks soon, and rigging. I've been doing clean work fir some time, but throwing hooks is where I want to end up. AGRO encourages their members to learn all they can, which is wonderful.
A lifestyle.
Welcome back to my blog, I haven't written anything new here in a while, although I did post everything from Facebook here, just to keep it all in one place.
On the advice of a dear friend I had lost touch with, I'm going to attempt a lifestyle change. I know its possible, this time last year I got healthy and stayed that way for quite some time. Sadly, old habits die hard, I got busy and distracted, and quit paying attention to my health. Originally I was lashing out in response to depression, I got so down I didn't eat for eight days, I wasn't hungry, and the idea of food made me sick. A small seed planted in my head,"what if I eat healthy now that my body is empty of toxins?" it worked very well, exercise and meditation were quick to follow. I was sober and healthy. Someone offered me a beer one evening, like an idiot I accepted. It was 10 months of setbacks rather than evolution. My mind is in a healthier place this time, and I want my body to follow. It helped my anxiety immensely last time, so I'm hoping for all of the benefits you don't usually take into consideration.
I'm going to try and cleanse. It won't be easy right now, I have to get the required food, and with touring it's not easy, so I may just half starve for our show in st. Louis this weekend. I know starving isn't a solution, but it's either drop my will power, or try to convince my bandmates to stop somewhere healthy... Neither is happening.
There's not much temptation in the house right now, so it should be an easy goal. Ten days of health, see where it goes from there. Last year 45 days yielded amazing results, and once the depression was over, I afforded plenty of fun with it, just a constant watchful eye on overall conditioning. There's more I want to write, but I'll start another post.
On the advice of a dear friend I had lost touch with, I'm going to attempt a lifestyle change. I know its possible, this time last year I got healthy and stayed that way for quite some time. Sadly, old habits die hard, I got busy and distracted, and quit paying attention to my health. Originally I was lashing out in response to depression, I got so down I didn't eat for eight days, I wasn't hungry, and the idea of food made me sick. A small seed planted in my head,"what if I eat healthy now that my body is empty of toxins?" it worked very well, exercise and meditation were quick to follow. I was sober and healthy. Someone offered me a beer one evening, like an idiot I accepted. It was 10 months of setbacks rather than evolution. My mind is in a healthier place this time, and I want my body to follow. It helped my anxiety immensely last time, so I'm hoping for all of the benefits you don't usually take into consideration.
I'm going to try and cleanse. It won't be easy right now, I have to get the required food, and with touring it's not easy, so I may just half starve for our show in st. Louis this weekend. I know starving isn't a solution, but it's either drop my will power, or try to convince my bandmates to stop somewhere healthy... Neither is happening.
There's not much temptation in the house right now, so it should be an easy goal. Ten days of health, see where it goes from there. Last year 45 days yielded amazing results, and once the depression was over, I afforded plenty of fun with it, just a constant watchful eye on overall conditioning. There's more I want to write, but I'll start another post.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Living with mental illness .
Just because I use that term, people instinctively make the leap to insane. Maybe that's not far off, but for the sake of being thorough let's dissect what mental illness is. Anything slightly askew from societies definition of normal, equals mental illness. Not so long ago, women were locked up for being aggressively sexual, or speaking too openly in public. This from a time in history that you could order heroin or morphine from a sears catalog and have it delivered to your door with a reusable hypodermic kit.
Now, these days everyone is on medication for something, stress? anxiety? Swallow these.
I'm certainly not saying our modern issues don't exist... My main issue is anxiety, keeps me home most of the time, I'm saying I've grown up around mental illness, from the outside looking in. It causes me to try and have a healthier outlook on my own mental health. When you forget how to spell a few words and your memory gets fuzzy after a few head traumas, you tend to appreciate what you do have. Other than the obvious oddity I've become externally, I'd like to think I'm a pretty well rounded person. My appearance is partially to weed through those that would judge me before they get to know me. I have plenty of "normal" friends, I extend the same courtesy and try to only judge what's on the inside.
When a doctor tells a six year old that their mother may get sick someday and not snap out of it, that's something that sticks with them. I have more of an understanding now though, the anger that boy had growing up, went away, it can be frustrating trying to understand the shame and embarrassment, when there's no need to feel that way. Denial is hard to watch too, that's why I'm very open now about my condition, it's not my fault, and if I can't fix it, I might as well be honest about it. So many people hide these things about themselves, but even if it makes us quirky, it also makes us who we are. I don't think I'd miss it, if I were suddenly fixed one day, but by no means do I actually consider myself broken. There's no point in wishing something away, when we just end up wasting time we could be treasuring.
Life is amazing, and even with the curveballs we get sometimes(I've had some big ones this week) the world is amazing, even if I only see it out my window half the time, I still appreciate what I have. Don't be scared of mental illness, you or someone you know have at least mild problems, but it doesn't make you less of a person. Just by reading the way I write, you should be able to surmise that just because my head has been squished a few times, that doesn't make me stupid, yes I have problems with a few things, but I think, as with most people, I'm worth getting to know.
This was a long-winded way of saying: hi, I'm a bit different, I'm sure you knew that, but I'm different in a surprising way... I'm your quiet friend, your neighbor, the one you pass at the supermarket, the guy you say hi to sometimes at shows, I could be anyone, there's only one way to find out though.
Straight from the wiki's mouth:
A mental disorder or mental illness is a psychological or behavioral pattern generally associated with subjective distress or disability that occurs in an individual, and which is not a part of normal development or culture. The recognition and understanding of mental health conditions have changed over time and across cultures, and there are still variations in the definition, assessment, and classification of mental disorders, although standard guideline criteria are widely accepted. Over a third of people in most countries report meeting criteria for the major categories at some point in their lives.
Just because I use that term, people instinctively make the leap to insane. Maybe that's not far off, but for the sake of being thorough let's dissect what mental illness is. Anything slightly askew from societies definition of normal, equals mental illness. Not so long ago, women were locked up for being aggressively sexual, or speaking too openly in public. This from a time in history that you could order heroin or morphine from a sears catalog and have it delivered to your door with a reusable hypodermic kit.
Now, these days everyone is on medication for something, stress? anxiety? Swallow these.
I'm certainly not saying our modern issues don't exist... My main issue is anxiety, keeps me home most of the time, I'm saying I've grown up around mental illness, from the outside looking in. It causes me to try and have a healthier outlook on my own mental health. When you forget how to spell a few words and your memory gets fuzzy after a few head traumas, you tend to appreciate what you do have. Other than the obvious oddity I've become externally, I'd like to think I'm a pretty well rounded person. My appearance is partially to weed through those that would judge me before they get to know me. I have plenty of "normal" friends, I extend the same courtesy and try to only judge what's on the inside.
When a doctor tells a six year old that their mother may get sick someday and not snap out of it, that's something that sticks with them. I have more of an understanding now though, the anger that boy had growing up, went away, it can be frustrating trying to understand the shame and embarrassment, when there's no need to feel that way. Denial is hard to watch too, that's why I'm very open now about my condition, it's not my fault, and if I can't fix it, I might as well be honest about it. So many people hide these things about themselves, but even if it makes us quirky, it also makes us who we are. I don't think I'd miss it, if I were suddenly fixed one day, but by no means do I actually consider myself broken. There's no point in wishing something away, when we just end up wasting time we could be treasuring.
Life is amazing, and even with the curveballs we get sometimes(I've had some big ones this week) the world is amazing, even if I only see it out my window half the time, I still appreciate what I have. Don't be scared of mental illness, you or someone you know have at least mild problems, but it doesn't make you less of a person. Just by reading the way I write, you should be able to surmise that just because my head has been squished a few times, that doesn't make me stupid, yes I have problems with a few things, but I think, as with most people, I'm worth getting to know.
This was a long-winded way of saying: hi, I'm a bit different, I'm sure you knew that, but I'm different in a surprising way... I'm your quiet friend, your neighbor, the one you pass at the supermarket, the guy you say hi to sometimes at shows, I could be anyone, there's only one way to find out though.
Straight from the wiki's mouth:
A mental disorder or mental illness is a psychological or behavioral pattern generally associated with subjective distress or disability that occurs in an individual, and which is not a part of normal development or culture. The recognition and understanding of mental health conditions have changed over time and across cultures, and there are still variations in the definition, assessment, and classification of mental disorders, although standard guideline criteria are widely accepted. Over a third of people in most countries report meeting criteria for the major categories at some point in their lives.
She.
There have been two women in my life, all of the others I've known have just been compared and measured by their standard. Two pivotal roles, two reasons for joy and so much anguish. One has only known this world for nine years, gives me so much pride, so much love, it hurts everyday to miss her so much. One has been with me since birth, compassionate, intelligent, and no one ever measures up. One is the reason to keep living, and one is mentally ill. The challenges to care for one, and to be a role model for the other are harder everyday. There are some amazing women in my life, each reaps rewards and challenges to know. There are only two that have permanent residency in my heart. My mother and my daughter, they set the bar so high for the rest of you. Freud would dissect me if he read this.
There have been two women in my life, all of the others I've known have just been compared and measured by their standard. Two pivotal roles, two reasons for joy and so much anguish. One has only known this world for nine years, gives me so much pride, so much love, it hurts everyday to miss her so much. One has been with me since birth, compassionate, intelligent, and no one ever measures up. One is the reason to keep living, and one is mentally ill. The challenges to care for one, and to be a role model for the other are harder everyday. There are some amazing women in my life, each reaps rewards and challenges to know. There are only two that have permanent residency in my heart. My mother and my daughter, they set the bar so high for the rest of you. Freud would dissect me if he read this.
Today I woke up dead.
This opens with a warning, I will certainly be labeled as volatile, unstable and damaged once you read this. I'm keeping a promise to write how I feel. This is just how I feel right this second. If I could censor it and still make my point I would. I'm sorry.
Today I woke up dead. There was a calm in the air, a sense of justice. Past debts repaid on some cosmic scale. The dark vortex around my spirit had released it's captives, you were all once again free to go about your lives. Wonder how you all missed the signs, when I was telling you without encryption, your friend is not long for this world. I've always wondered how someone could justify feeling this way, but the effect my existence has on those that surround me, has such a negative impact, how can I justify putting them through any more pain? I try to live for positivity, I desire nothing more than to make you happy. The flame inside of me burns bright, but the direction it burns now, is just not right. I can have so much passion for this world, or I can sink into a bed of my own making.
I'm sorry I've fucked up your life, caused you so much strife. I can't change the things once done, but maybe I can change just one. I'm sorry I didn't let the drunk give me a ride. I'm sorry most of all that I'm even alive. Today I woke up dead.
This opens with a warning, I will certainly be labeled as volatile, unstable and damaged once you read this. I'm keeping a promise to write how I feel. This is just how I feel right this second. If I could censor it and still make my point I would. I'm sorry.
Today I woke up dead. There was a calm in the air, a sense of justice. Past debts repaid on some cosmic scale. The dark vortex around my spirit had released it's captives, you were all once again free to go about your lives. Wonder how you all missed the signs, when I was telling you without encryption, your friend is not long for this world. I've always wondered how someone could justify feeling this way, but the effect my existence has on those that surround me, has such a negative impact, how can I justify putting them through any more pain? I try to live for positivity, I desire nothing more than to make you happy. The flame inside of me burns bright, but the direction it burns now, is just not right. I can have so much passion for this world, or I can sink into a bed of my own making.
I'm sorry I've fucked up your life, caused you so much strife. I can't change the things once done, but maybe I can change just one. I'm sorry I didn't let the drunk give me a ride. I'm sorry most of all that I'm even alive. Today I woke up dead.
Quick!
Let's all take off our shoes and soak our feet in grey matter for a bit. My head is swimming with ideas. Quick someone hand me a paintbrush, a cello bow, copper wire, pint of jack daniels, two midgets, a clown nose, three unwashed potatoes, and a clove cigarette... We've got some art to make...
Marriage, it can be miserable after a few years, and yet if you spend long enough in one, you have no idea how to return to normal life. The reality is, it's been years since things ended,(no secret) but a lifetime of always being in a relationship, and monogamy, makes a healthy trip back to being single and independent a hard road to travel. Mix in a couple of amazing kids, that I don't get to see often, and enough head injuries to make me a really odd person to be around... You get one lonely man; the purest of intentions, and all the chivalry in the world, but people see me and they expect a bad boy, unless it's playtime, I'm just not that anymore. Quiet, shy unless properly medicated, which is rare these days.
This whole thing had a point, and I've strayed way off it... I've noticed I only write when I feel upset, which isn't that often, I just don't document the good times.
I find my life somewhere I never expected it to wind up, the stress and anxiety have crippled my coping skills. I seldom leave the house, I feel unmotivated, almost repulsed by the idea of being productive. I have plenty of projects to work on, but the desire to produce is simply not present.
There's never a single moment I feel comfortable, people are in my house around the clock, oddly, I'm always home, yet never get a moment alone; I'm lonely, yet need my privacy to dance around the house to depeche mode sometimes. Don't get me wrong here, I love the people, I just really need alone time.
I miss being social, I love what I do in life, I've had the pleasure of taking my favorite hobbies, and molding them into career opportunities. However, as I progress down this path, I find it much harder to sit and concentrate.
Just typing this out, makes the burden ease up ever so slightly. I have shows, albums, articles, shoots and video work, plenty to focus on, and I take pride in the work that gets produced, even with the digital work I take a very slow, hands-on approach, it gives a greater sense of accomplishment when the finished product has the desired effect.
Still way off original intent here, never really recovered after those first couple sentences... My bed is empty, heart is waiting, head is tired and unraveled. This is what selfish honesty looks like, typing for my sake, but maybe anyone reading this far can walk away with a lesson, or some cautionary wisdom. Life finds you in funny places, a few bad experiences caused me to knowingly choose art over love, that was a mistake. Only love, or the pain of the absence of it can produce notable music or art.
This whole thing had a point, and I've strayed way off it... I've noticed I only write when I feel upset, which isn't that often, I just don't document the good times.
I find my life somewhere I never expected it to wind up, the stress and anxiety have crippled my coping skills. I seldom leave the house, I feel unmotivated, almost repulsed by the idea of being productive. I have plenty of projects to work on, but the desire to produce is simply not present.
There's never a single moment I feel comfortable, people are in my house around the clock, oddly, I'm always home, yet never get a moment alone; I'm lonely, yet need my privacy to dance around the house to depeche mode sometimes. Don't get me wrong here, I love the people, I just really need alone time.
I miss being social, I love what I do in life, I've had the pleasure of taking my favorite hobbies, and molding them into career opportunities. However, as I progress down this path, I find it much harder to sit and concentrate.
Just typing this out, makes the burden ease up ever so slightly. I have shows, albums, articles, shoots and video work, plenty to focus on, and I take pride in the work that gets produced, even with the digital work I take a very slow, hands-on approach, it gives a greater sense of accomplishment when the finished product has the desired effect.
Still way off original intent here, never really recovered after those first couple sentences... My bed is empty, heart is waiting, head is tired and unraveled. This is what selfish honesty looks like, typing for my sake, but maybe anyone reading this far can walk away with a lesson, or some cautionary wisdom. Life finds you in funny places, a few bad experiences caused me to knowingly choose art over love, that was a mistake. Only love, or the pain of the absence of it can produce notable music or art.
If my memories betray me, I'll have nothing left.
The remembrance of yesterday, makes today worth the pain.
So many wonderful experiences, twisted their way here to this spot. A life once lived, but hopefully not forgot.
No one sees me here, they just read my thoughts. Some think they know me, but I just show pieces, unless I am sought.
I've lived my life, the past joy paid, with the present bought. As long as I can hold a shard of that, I want for naught. This pain in my heart, with memories wrought.
The remembrance of yesterday, makes today worth the pain.
So many wonderful experiences, twisted their way here to this spot. A life once lived, but hopefully not forgot.
No one sees me here, they just read my thoughts. Some think they know me, but I just show pieces, unless I am sought.
I've lived my life, the past joy paid, with the present bought. As long as I can hold a shard of that, I want for naught. This pain in my heart, with memories wrought.
In the back of my eyelids, the light forms scenes. With slumber met, this would equal dreams. Mine is to be no such luck, in a waking state I am stuck.
The scenes play out without much control, although I'm awake they choose how to unfold. The deprived mind derails, without sleep it never fails. Decompress, awake or not, the brain will rest, or begin to rot.
Traumas and heartache, worry for ones past. You can't change these things, but the memories are vast.
Until slumber once again holds me in it's arms outstretched. I shall sit here and watch the patterns, on my eyelids etched.
The scenes play out without much control, although I'm awake they choose how to unfold. The deprived mind derails, without sleep it never fails. Decompress, awake or not, the brain will rest, or begin to rot.
Traumas and heartache, worry for ones past. You can't change these things, but the memories are vast.
Until slumber once again holds me in it's arms outstretched. I shall sit here and watch the patterns, on my eyelids etched.
A whisper in my ear, a cold embrace. Something guides my thoughts, not a choice.
A glimmer of a moment, long since passed. A flash of something new, undiscovered, tomorrows forecast.
Toss and turn but can't shake the guest. If I fall asleep, I'll wake with it on my chest. The pressure burrows, to the hearts core. Haunted by a life unexplored.
The shadows down the hallway float and scatter, no light nor movement explains the pattern. It keeps you awake, to make it's presence more known. The thinner the veil, the more it is shown. It feeds off the weakness stored in a weary mind. Its stronger with illness, this friend of mine.
A glimmer of a moment, long since passed. A flash of something new, undiscovered, tomorrows forecast.
Toss and turn but can't shake the guest. If I fall asleep, I'll wake with it on my chest. The pressure burrows, to the hearts core. Haunted by a life unexplored.
The shadows down the hallway float and scatter, no light nor movement explains the pattern. It keeps you awake, to make it's presence more known. The thinner the veil, the more it is shown. It feeds off the weakness stored in a weary mind. Its stronger with illness, this friend of mine.
Stillness surrounds the vacant chill in my dim room. Hours pass as if a fragment of time collapsed. Intellect trades for insanity as the deprivation hums inside my ears. The chest pains, always the chest pains, shallow breathing, twitching legs. The candle went out hours ago, now just a distant light that creeps in underneath the door. Creaking in the hallway, curious tenants concerned, just shadows passing. Thinking about how to stop thinking, let it fall quiet, just long enough to reach slumber. Birds chirping, distant car doors, every sound amplified through the vibrations in my skull. To step outside? Confront the fear? Not till sleep, I wouldn't dare. I write, I ponder, at this early hour, my mind will wander, but I will not, lay completely still. Hands numb, mouth dry, eyes water. A thousand goals for today, not a single met. Maybe tomorrow, but that doesn't even fool me, so much to do, but no grasp on time. Wasting away, I somehow keep a positive mind. Things get better, this I know, even if it's a lie, it's the one distant light that creeps in underneath the door.
Time melts by,
with each waking moment spent
Panic attack, broken brain
Can't breath, cold sweat
Maybe I'm just paranoid
Unisom lost in my system
Still awake with this affliction
5 hours ago, 5 minutes went by
Now I'm just laying here, don't know why
Life passes by
Out my window the world moves on
This scratched record
plays the same old song
If there were an opposite to ok
I would be that
To put it eloquently
Not ok
Time melts by.
with each waking moment spent
Panic attack, broken brain
Can't breath, cold sweat
Maybe I'm just paranoid
Unisom lost in my system
Still awake with this affliction
5 hours ago, 5 minutes went by
Now I'm just laying here, don't know why
Life passes by
Out my window the world moves on
This scratched record
plays the same old song
If there were an opposite to ok
I would be that
To put it eloquently
Not ok
Time melts by.
In my lifetime.
In my lifetime.
Mcnuggets
Cordless phones, car phones, cellular phones, smart phones
Cable television, high definition, plasma television, music television, reality television, stereoscopic television, on demand, streaming
Internet, high-speed, wifi, personal computers, laptops
War on drugs, war for drugs, drug wars, medicinal marijuana, but no social medicine
Plastic surgery, war on obesity, crossbred vegetables, hormone injected meat
Atkins, Hanson
Snowboarding, turntablism
Laser disc, DVD, blu-ray, 16bit, 32bit, 64bit, 128bit, 256bit megabyte, gigabyte
Aids, bird flu, mad cow
3d animation, virtual worlds
Stealth bombers, smart bombs, twin towers, Berlin wall
On star, serius xm, hybrid cars, car alarms, noise pollution, ozone
Email, txt, return to illiteracy
Social networks, chat rooms, free pornography for all
War on terror,Reagan, two bushes, Clinton sex scandal, African American president
Look at how far we've come, and yet how far we have to go. We've lost ourselves in the noise of everyday life. We can barely communicate because it's so easy to keep in touch. We don't relate, we're selfish, mindless drones.
With the freedom of information, we've grown stupid, we believe the lies.
Spoon fed, redneck, ebonic, spoiled Americans in debt to the whole world. World powers flipped upside down.
Prison systems overflow, a new depression era, anxiety pills, headed for a civil war.
In 30 years we've forgotten who our enemies are. Celebrate freedom, the right to choose, gun permits, did the holocaust even happen? Volkswagen nazi tanks, IBM counted Jews.
Prescription drugs claimed the king of pop, OJ's gloves didn't fit, Madonna expressed herself, lady gaga exposed herself.
Why do we care what happens to celebrities, when we don't know our neighbors names? We're all too consumed in our own lives, television, news, video games.
Telemarket, snooze button, diet pills, instant gratification, yet can you say you're truly happy?
Here we sit in the same room, staring at our phones, letting the whole world know how much fun we're having, but forgetting to look up. Never happy with where we are, too busy thinking about where we could be. Not enough money, but that's always true, a little more overtime, but still past due.
Catholic shame, Walmart must be to blame, monopoly isn't just a game.
Don't ask, don't tell, gay marriage is alright, as long as they keep it over there.
Broccoli was invented, who even knew? Our DNA has been changed from the things that we consume.
I can admit, a bit of a hypocrite, when this list is to point out the ironic nature of our lives, but I enjoy these things too.
Don't get upset with me, if this list doesn't seem complete. Certain parts may sound unfair, but you're just reading something that isn't there. The point of a list is to notice trends, the very nature of this may offend.
Mcnuggets
Cordless phones, car phones, cellular phones, smart phones
Cable television, high definition, plasma television, music television, reality television, stereoscopic television, on demand, streaming
Internet, high-speed, wifi, personal computers, laptops
War on drugs, war for drugs, drug wars, medicinal marijuana, but no social medicine
Plastic surgery, war on obesity, crossbred vegetables, hormone injected meat
Atkins, Hanson
Snowboarding, turntablism
Laser disc, DVD, blu-ray, 16bit, 32bit, 64bit, 128bit, 256bit megabyte, gigabyte
Aids, bird flu, mad cow
3d animation, virtual worlds
Stealth bombers, smart bombs, twin towers, Berlin wall
On star, serius xm, hybrid cars, car alarms, noise pollution, ozone
Email, txt, return to illiteracy
Social networks, chat rooms, free pornography for all
War on terror,Reagan, two bushes, Clinton sex scandal, African American president
Look at how far we've come, and yet how far we have to go. We've lost ourselves in the noise of everyday life. We can barely communicate because it's so easy to keep in touch. We don't relate, we're selfish, mindless drones.
With the freedom of information, we've grown stupid, we believe the lies.
Spoon fed, redneck, ebonic, spoiled Americans in debt to the whole world. World powers flipped upside down.
Prison systems overflow, a new depression era, anxiety pills, headed for a civil war.
In 30 years we've forgotten who our enemies are. Celebrate freedom, the right to choose, gun permits, did the holocaust even happen? Volkswagen nazi tanks, IBM counted Jews.
Prescription drugs claimed the king of pop, OJ's gloves didn't fit, Madonna expressed herself, lady gaga exposed herself.
Why do we care what happens to celebrities, when we don't know our neighbors names? We're all too consumed in our own lives, television, news, video games.
Telemarket, snooze button, diet pills, instant gratification, yet can you say you're truly happy?
Here we sit in the same room, staring at our phones, letting the whole world know how much fun we're having, but forgetting to look up. Never happy with where we are, too busy thinking about where we could be. Not enough money, but that's always true, a little more overtime, but still past due.
Catholic shame, Walmart must be to blame, monopoly isn't just a game.
Don't ask, don't tell, gay marriage is alright, as long as they keep it over there.
Broccoli was invented, who even knew? Our DNA has been changed from the things that we consume.
I can admit, a bit of a hypocrite, when this list is to point out the ironic nature of our lives, but I enjoy these things too.
Don't get upset with me, if this list doesn't seem complete. Certain parts may sound unfair, but you're just reading something that isn't there. The point of a list is to notice trends, the very nature of this may offend.
Behold the power of conversation
People don't seem to understand why I'm not very sexually aggressive anymore. When I try to explain, it's either met with opposition or disbelief.
I enjoy conversation, it's great when I can sit and talk at length with a female I find attractive, but brain matter knows no gender.
Often it's thought snobbish to make a statement like that, but understand; it need not be a weighted topic like quantum physics or synthesis mapping. I had a twenty minute conversation with five people about thumbs yesterday, in it's own abstract way it was enlightening.
Nothing is sexier on someone than a great perspective. You probably won't change my views on a topic, but I love it when you try, and a fresh way of looking at a stale topic, often leads to new ideas.
Between constant sleep deprivation, and several head injuries, I respect what I can still manage to hold onto. Everyone should yearn for knowledge, seek out topics askew from what you are learning about, just to bring that knowledge back into what you are currently working on. I read or delve into subjects that travel far off the path I'm trying to reach, but it makes for a more robust journey.
I'm not exactly sure where I'm leading this, but it's just refreshing to attempt an explanation of why I don't react the way most would in social situations. While others may flock to obvious groups of people, I may tend to quietly watch, or seek out the one person in the room that can talk about depth of field, color coding, and zombie films all at once.
I'm tired of typing now.
Originally written June 24th
Lonely, sad, anxious, afraid to open up to the world and risk being hurt again. Think you're the only one that feels this way? Sadly part of this condition is making you feel you're The only person on the planet that suffers. In reality so many of us hurt, and rather than reach out to each other, we shell up, internalize, turn to alcohol, drugs, or sleep too much, or never sleep at all. We convince ourselves we're hated by everyone and that society is better off without us.
Usually overly critical people are very intelligent, they've just suffered hardships that make life seem unrelatable.
I seldom leave my house, sleep alone every night, have panic attacks constantly. I know there are others that live this life too. I'm here for you, as I slowly learn to cope and stay positive, I see more and more people that need help, but sometimes don't recognize a friend when they see it. Life doesn't have to be so hard. I'm here.
Usually overly critical people are very intelligent, they've just suffered hardships that make life seem unrelatable.
I seldom leave my house, sleep alone every night, have panic attacks constantly. I know there are others that live this life too. I'm here for you, as I slowly learn to cope and stay positive, I see more and more people that need help, but sometimes don't recognize a friend when they see it. Life doesn't have to be so hard. I'm here.
Updates
I've been writing on Facebook and ignoring my blog, but I always end up back here... I'm going to transfer what I've written there over here, so expect a flood of writing. Much of it is contextual to how I felt at the time, it doesn't apply to where I'm at currently.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Welcome home.
Looks Like I'm back to sharing my thought with a tiny screen that never replies. At least it gets out of my head.
I feel like an asshole, and why? Because everytime I try to help someone, they freak out about something. Is it so hard to imagine sometimes people do things to be nice?
I'm not perfect, but I'm also very far from morally bankrupt. I wear my mistakes for all to see, and I work on the rest. I have about two more paragraphs to write here but it's too emo even for me.
I'm sorry, who cares who's fault anything is, bad situations suck either way. Seems to me I usually willingly play the role of villian, so everyone else can justify their actions. It doesn't matter to me, whatever helps you sleep at night.
I'm looking forward to returning to my "normal" workflow and getting some new material done. Too often I get caught up in others aspirations, and forget to wish on a couple stars for myself.
I feel like an asshole, and why? Because everytime I try to help someone, they freak out about something. Is it so hard to imagine sometimes people do things to be nice?
I'm not perfect, but I'm also very far from morally bankrupt. I wear my mistakes for all to see, and I work on the rest. I have about two more paragraphs to write here but it's too emo even for me.
I'm sorry, who cares who's fault anything is, bad situations suck either way. Seems to me I usually willingly play the role of villian, so everyone else can justify their actions. It doesn't matter to me, whatever helps you sleep at night.
I'm looking forward to returning to my "normal" workflow and getting some new material done. Too often I get caught up in others aspirations, and forget to wish on a couple stars for myself.
The last few days
Haven't gone exactly how I'd planned. Somehow I'm ok with that though, one random bit of drama changes the course of my life, but there was nothing I could do to change it.
Honestly it makes life a bit easier, I've been neglecting some of my projects, not being able to manage my time equally.
I met someone interesting and nice, don't jump to conclusions there, I just don't meet people often.
I also had a dream about a friend, that calls into question how I feel about that friend. Either way it was just a dream, so I'll treat it thusly, just interesting.
The second some of my time frees up people come out of the woodwork ready to get things underway,oh and the website WILL be back up soon, just going through server changes. Funny how that works, the photography and other music projects are about to get busy again.
Moral of the story, it's good when someone reminds you how shallow the world can be, it helps you step out before you get lost in the deep end.
Keep your floaties on until next time.
Lucid
Honestly it makes life a bit easier, I've been neglecting some of my projects, not being able to manage my time equally.
I met someone interesting and nice, don't jump to conclusions there, I just don't meet people often.
I also had a dream about a friend, that calls into question how I feel about that friend. Either way it was just a dream, so I'll treat it thusly, just interesting.
The second some of my time frees up people come out of the woodwork ready to get things underway,oh and the website WILL be back up soon, just going through server changes. Funny how that works, the photography and other music projects are about to get busy again.
Moral of the story, it's good when someone reminds you how shallow the world can be, it helps you step out before you get lost in the deep end.
Keep your floaties on until next time.
Lucid
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Cat naps. I have to remember how bad they are for you. Over the course of several days, the mind starts to break down worse than just sleep deprivation would cause. It's harmful over a long stretch to keep prematurely pulling the mind from NREM states without letting it finish cycling.
A few days ago a dialog with my brother opened up the query: "Is this why cats are so playful and odd?" if they never reach full REM they never are fully rested.
I've never seen that question arise in scientific study, although at the time of said discussion we were watching a nova documentary on dreams. They learned how to switch off sleep paralisys in animals, they showed dogs, cats and rats, up moving around but still asleep. I noticed the cats were the most agile. Just interesting.
A few days ago a dialog with my brother opened up the query: "Is this why cats are so playful and odd?" if they never reach full REM they never are fully rested.
I've never seen that question arise in scientific study, although at the time of said discussion we were watching a nova documentary on dreams. They learned how to switch off sleep paralisys in animals, they showed dogs, cats and rats, up moving around but still asleep. I noticed the cats were the most agile. Just interesting.
Sleep deprived journal 24.7
Very sleep deprived, stuck in my own head. Recalling how we used to name every song thought with a different revision number after it. Until a song had lyrics, it was always thought4.2, or a similar means to library our content. In That instance the .2 would be the second revision of the fourth song. The higher the decimal number, the newer the version of the track. Just an odd process, it led me to think about the word thought. In my own sleep deprived breakdown it went something like this:
Thought can be so many things... Like, "I thought that our naming scheme made sense, but then a thought occured to me, why did we name them that way?" The single form of the word can encompass several tenses, or states in time.
Led me to this conclusion:
Thought is the think of yesterday, as if in a brain dead patient. What is the beauty of having a soul, without the ability to ponder just that? The soul, the symbolic "heart", the emotion love, does it exist without the thought? Every person is instilled with a different idea of what love is, it is a very mental state, and yet does our chest not ache, physically hurt, with the loss of love? Even with a sensory understanding of the human anatomy, it still seems like one cohesive experience, the entire body senses as a whole, not the sum of it's parts.
This is breaking down in my head and leading nowhere, just sleep deprived journal 24.7, see in that instance the .7 would be.....
Thought can be so many things... Like, "I thought that our naming scheme made sense, but then a thought occured to me, why did we name them that way?" The single form of the word can encompass several tenses, or states in time.
Led me to this conclusion:
Thought is the think of yesterday, as if in a brain dead patient. What is the beauty of having a soul, without the ability to ponder just that? The soul, the symbolic "heart", the emotion love, does it exist without the thought? Every person is instilled with a different idea of what love is, it is a very mental state, and yet does our chest not ache, physically hurt, with the loss of love? Even with a sensory understanding of the human anatomy, it still seems like one cohesive experience, the entire body senses as a whole, not the sum of it's parts.
This is breaking down in my head and leading nowhere, just sleep deprived journal 24.7, see in that instance the .7 would be.....
Friday, June 10, 2011
Not long now.
Fragments scattered in time, proof that I did in fact exist.
I was several things to several people, but vanished from thought once my use was fulfilled. A leftover picture, a scribble on a piece of paper, a voicemail, these are the only fading memories of a life once lived.
Remembered only in small shards, the whole of my life was never shared. Those closest to me always knew there was something else, I couldn't put into words, and that they couldn't understand. Here, at this late chapter, in a book that's almost written, the pages show signs of regret, words unsaid, emotions held back. You can't dwell on yesterday, and that's where I am. Look forward to an amazing life laid out before you, think of me no more.
I had my time, and wasted most of it, chasing incomplete dreams, unrequited emotions, intangible myths. My legacy, my name, scratched from history, my own children no longer wear my name. Life is an artform, one to be respected, grasped as tightly as possible, for it slips no matter the agility.
My memories are all I take with me, an early morning smile, a shared walk somewhere new, I have my fragments of you, and I will cherish them, the only time I really felt alive.
Whatever the future holds, I wish you all your dreams, love, and respect. A vast plane stretches out before you, covered with great memories yet to be had. Mine is not long for this world, I will clutch tight the thought of you, as I carry into the next great experience.
I was several things to several people, but vanished from thought once my use was fulfilled. A leftover picture, a scribble on a piece of paper, a voicemail, these are the only fading memories of a life once lived.
Remembered only in small shards, the whole of my life was never shared. Those closest to me always knew there was something else, I couldn't put into words, and that they couldn't understand. Here, at this late chapter, in a book that's almost written, the pages show signs of regret, words unsaid, emotions held back. You can't dwell on yesterday, and that's where I am. Look forward to an amazing life laid out before you, think of me no more.
I had my time, and wasted most of it, chasing incomplete dreams, unrequited emotions, intangible myths. My legacy, my name, scratched from history, my own children no longer wear my name. Life is an artform, one to be respected, grasped as tightly as possible, for it slips no matter the agility.
My memories are all I take with me, an early morning smile, a shared walk somewhere new, I have my fragments of you, and I will cherish them, the only time I really felt alive.
Whatever the future holds, I wish you all your dreams, love, and respect. A vast plane stretches out before you, covered with great memories yet to be had. Mine is not long for this world, I will clutch tight the thought of you, as I carry into the next great experience.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
I'll try this one more time to understand my crime my patience complacence is lost on no one I'll save my tongue the pen is mightier but the sword is swift if the mood were lighter it wouldn't need a lift so fingers to keys that unlock no door except to the soul of one so poor I digress injustice LIEs in the hearts of us all so let us join together even if our loneliness is the only bond let it be so strong as to not tear asunder but unite us under a common cause to be free happy and healthy makes every man wealthy let my words on this screen start to change even I can admit it's strange just getting it out there cleanses the mind the negative thoughts being left behind no period no comma may structure fall with the drama I'll leave it behind and just unwind the clocks gears were too tight the time is now and now it feels right to express myself in a public form maybe someone will learn from my forlorn it's not perfect I'm the first to say but as I jot it so ends the day I put it to rest with my unrest a brighter tommorow with less feelings of sorrow joy and prosper I've called upon thee I'm not looking back so mote it be
Can someone please tell me how a year of celibacy was even worth the wait to end up in the same mental state it's as if there's been no pause just because I'm dealing with the same exact fate it's always too late they stop they stare but they don't care if it's not seen onstage or on some drunken rage it's not worth noting the man the myth what's the diff if anyone knew what was inside the lack of worth the lack of pride there's a soul here still but everything has been stripped away as if to say you weren't good enough with what you've done the work the play I feel like a jerk but who's to say I'm stripped empty I miss them so much but apPARENTly not enough their still gone for right or wrong I'm left with this gaping whole in my chest if I must I shall protest it's not fair but it never is that's just life kid do unto others again and again they'll not do unto you that much is true one lesson from life live and give but don't expect just a reject I can't always complain there's plenty in so much more pain a roof and food my creativity trying to use what's been given to me sometimes blessed but mostly cursed I can stand on a stage and do my worst I could scream at the top of my lungs till I feel I could burst it's all taken in jest surely no man could feel that hurt in his chest I've fulfilled my dreams oh lucky me now I'm left wondering what's next while everyone picks me clean I'm a step to their goal they're the conductor I'm just the coal on the lucid express it'll get you there as long as you can bear the company of a tired man that wants to care running low on steam can't stop now everyones dream is to see me tired and sick old and spent spit out chewed up hollow sad and alone there went the scheme with everyone else it left
"I want to kill myself"
Said the fifteen year old boys subconscious. "I want to die as slowly, and painfully as possible."
The years that followed were accompanied with addiction, heartache, loss beyond any measurable term.
This boy grew to a man, a monster, a beast wrought on the path of destruction; self destruction.
If days were years, this life passed slowly, painfully. The aches, the undocumented ailments. Pain was life, suppression was a vacation at times. His eyes had seen all the love in the world, but they also bore witness to the breaking of a man. The thing he became, the thing he hated being, he conjured purposefully to seperate himself from any notion of sociatal acceptance. His voice was still heard, but it was hushed, dulled to a kind whisper. He looked down when he talked, knowing that the sparse encounters with the outside world, changed their view of him, but hardened his reserve to abstain from becoming a socialite. To communicate in any accomodating fashion with another person, even of the intellectual type, was most often merely a process of slowing down the process of arriving at summary that could have been concluded much faster in the quiet stillness of his own mind.
To learn is beautiful, to derive something original from a process considered fringe from the medium used, to think outside the box, and then to burn the box to ash.
Sex, drugs, pleasure, no longer his forte. Choosing instead pain, deprivation, self humiliation. The new art of self destruction had begun, kill the body slowly, but build the mind up strong.
Somehow his life will be some cautionary tale of mental illness, and lack of control. But this tale will be spun upon the very fabric he grew to hate. Only society in some crude fashion could summarize the whole of his parts, break down each section of his life, then come to some accepted conclusion of derangement on his behalf.
Sickness from the inside certainly paints a softer picture, you can feel the wallpaper peeling away, even try to patch it, but the body and mind can't fully be repaired. Is it easier to watch yourself decay, or to knowingly deny the process and wear a smile made from lies?
Benefits come from acceptance. He can knowingly create, form, and imagine things from new perspective; his perspective. Albeit a rather malfunctioned machine, his brain thought differently, it could take a path unpaved.
He feverishly built a world around himself allowing for creative impulse. Justifying his social anxiety, it allowed more time to create, to dream, and never was it slowed by the need to explain an idea.
Lonliness was an art he had mastered, shame, guilt, pure self loathing were but side effects of severing his own ties to anyone that could even begin to understand, or to care.
The afterworld do mean something, a hidden legacy of time spent meticulously toiling away on various prose. Mediums were but a channel, forget classification, forget being tied to some ideal of what expression should be. Just express.
Pain was certainly easier to communicate than happiness, and although oddly optimistic, his life was sinking in peril. Jaded views that weren't acceptable to speak, a gentleman at heart, but worn by the years of moral depravity that seemed to lurk in every dark recess that seemed to stalk him everywhere he went. Reinvention, the idea of the phoenix, born of it's own ashes, became a symbol to him. People live these cycles, they repeat what they know. If they find something different, they reject it, or attempt to twist it into a reality they've always known. This tendency was lost on him, to evolve the self is the easy part, it's to choke down the monotony of daily life that's painful.
"you're asleep" he thought to himself. "they all walk through this existence, without a clue". Even burrowed in his four walled self made prison, he saw the outside world. The suits, cars, lawns, it was their dream, a shared dream. Society creates this world, and spits out anything that doesn't accept it's ideals. Vibrations of matter, objects, even people. Why did any of it matter, if it was all just matter. She sees a chair, and he sees a chair, therefor there is a chair. While everyone else was asleep in their daily lives, he was awake during his sleeping life. Lucid, to be awake and aware. The control of ones mind can only truly be obtained if the dreamworld is understood. He sees a chair, he doesn't accept that it's a chair, now it's a cat. Dreamstate can be more rewarding than waking life, minutes pass as hours, and if the slightest annoyance materializes, a mere thought melts it from existence.
With a lifelong fascination of psychology, and a protected respect of the spiritual realm, dreams were a place he could test theory, cure phobia, and seek any gratification lacking in the flesh.
The sad fact that he grew to be an insomniac troubled him constantly. To be awake for four days was the cruel punchline, to the sad joke of his persona. Longing to be free in slumber, but stuck on this dirty, flaccid plane of being. Bound by other mans ideas of gravity, love and law. His brain would wind so tight, until it would unspool, incoherent thoughts, half finished projects. The longer you're awake, the less you accomplish, this is a raw truth he had come to learn all to well.
"I want to kill myself"
Said the fifteen year old boys subconscious. "I want to die as slowly, and painfully as possible."
Patience, you're almost there.
Said the fifteen year old boys subconscious. "I want to die as slowly, and painfully as possible."
The years that followed were accompanied with addiction, heartache, loss beyond any measurable term.
This boy grew to a man, a monster, a beast wrought on the path of destruction; self destruction.
If days were years, this life passed slowly, painfully. The aches, the undocumented ailments. Pain was life, suppression was a vacation at times. His eyes had seen all the love in the world, but they also bore witness to the breaking of a man. The thing he became, the thing he hated being, he conjured purposefully to seperate himself from any notion of sociatal acceptance. His voice was still heard, but it was hushed, dulled to a kind whisper. He looked down when he talked, knowing that the sparse encounters with the outside world, changed their view of him, but hardened his reserve to abstain from becoming a socialite. To communicate in any accomodating fashion with another person, even of the intellectual type, was most often merely a process of slowing down the process of arriving at summary that could have been concluded much faster in the quiet stillness of his own mind.
To learn is beautiful, to derive something original from a process considered fringe from the medium used, to think outside the box, and then to burn the box to ash.
Sex, drugs, pleasure, no longer his forte. Choosing instead pain, deprivation, self humiliation. The new art of self destruction had begun, kill the body slowly, but build the mind up strong.
Somehow his life will be some cautionary tale of mental illness, and lack of control. But this tale will be spun upon the very fabric he grew to hate. Only society in some crude fashion could summarize the whole of his parts, break down each section of his life, then come to some accepted conclusion of derangement on his behalf.
Sickness from the inside certainly paints a softer picture, you can feel the wallpaper peeling away, even try to patch it, but the body and mind can't fully be repaired. Is it easier to watch yourself decay, or to knowingly deny the process and wear a smile made from lies?
Benefits come from acceptance. He can knowingly create, form, and imagine things from new perspective; his perspective. Albeit a rather malfunctioned machine, his brain thought differently, it could take a path unpaved.
He feverishly built a world around himself allowing for creative impulse. Justifying his social anxiety, it allowed more time to create, to dream, and never was it slowed by the need to explain an idea.
Lonliness was an art he had mastered, shame, guilt, pure self loathing were but side effects of severing his own ties to anyone that could even begin to understand, or to care.
The afterworld do mean something, a hidden legacy of time spent meticulously toiling away on various prose. Mediums were but a channel, forget classification, forget being tied to some ideal of what expression should be. Just express.
Pain was certainly easier to communicate than happiness, and although oddly optimistic, his life was sinking in peril. Jaded views that weren't acceptable to speak, a gentleman at heart, but worn by the years of moral depravity that seemed to lurk in every dark recess that seemed to stalk him everywhere he went. Reinvention, the idea of the phoenix, born of it's own ashes, became a symbol to him. People live these cycles, they repeat what they know. If they find something different, they reject it, or attempt to twist it into a reality they've always known. This tendency was lost on him, to evolve the self is the easy part, it's to choke down the monotony of daily life that's painful.
"you're asleep" he thought to himself. "they all walk through this existence, without a clue". Even burrowed in his four walled self made prison, he saw the outside world. The suits, cars, lawns, it was their dream, a shared dream. Society creates this world, and spits out anything that doesn't accept it's ideals. Vibrations of matter, objects, even people. Why did any of it matter, if it was all just matter. She sees a chair, and he sees a chair, therefor there is a chair. While everyone else was asleep in their daily lives, he was awake during his sleeping life. Lucid, to be awake and aware. The control of ones mind can only truly be obtained if the dreamworld is understood. He sees a chair, he doesn't accept that it's a chair, now it's a cat. Dreamstate can be more rewarding than waking life, minutes pass as hours, and if the slightest annoyance materializes, a mere thought melts it from existence.
With a lifelong fascination of psychology, and a protected respect of the spiritual realm, dreams were a place he could test theory, cure phobia, and seek any gratification lacking in the flesh.
The sad fact that he grew to be an insomniac troubled him constantly. To be awake for four days was the cruel punchline, to the sad joke of his persona. Longing to be free in slumber, but stuck on this dirty, flaccid plane of being. Bound by other mans ideas of gravity, love and law. His brain would wind so tight, until it would unspool, incoherent thoughts, half finished projects. The longer you're awake, the less you accomplish, this is a raw truth he had come to learn all to well.
"I want to kill myself"
Said the fifteen year old boys subconscious. "I want to die as slowly, and painfully as possible."
Patience, you're almost there.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Life.
Is on a collision course, and yet headed nowhere. I've let everything I cherish go, and cling to false hopes and emptiness.
Seems I'd at least enjoy oblivion, but no, it's hell.
Seems I'd at least enjoy oblivion, but no, it's hell.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
I awoke
Awoke to this world of noise. Machines, chatter, the world has grown loud, humans and their pets, noise.
May I return to realm of sleep soon? I wish a speedy venture back to slumberland.
Who is actually asleep? The drones that carry out their tasks, repitition and mediocrity at best? 16 hours of pain, just to enter a world they have no understanding of for a third of their life. What is heaven and hell? When this flesh tires, we return to our other reality. Those that repeat the same mistakes, and let their subconscious control them suffer the whims of their own fate. Those that choose to be awake, even when asleep, we are blessed with that skill in the nether, the after, the astral. We control our world, we understand this collective idea of reality is nothing more than vibrations of matter, but to live while asleep is more rewarding than this world.
I wish a hasten my return, to the world of nemo, no longer little, he's a king under there, watching over our slumber. Over 100 years old now, though age in slumber matters little.
I awoke, to this world of noise.
May I return to realm of sleep soon? I wish a speedy venture back to slumberland.
Who is actually asleep? The drones that carry out their tasks, repitition and mediocrity at best? 16 hours of pain, just to enter a world they have no understanding of for a third of their life. What is heaven and hell? When this flesh tires, we return to our other reality. Those that repeat the same mistakes, and let their subconscious control them suffer the whims of their own fate. Those that choose to be awake, even when asleep, we are blessed with that skill in the nether, the after, the astral. We control our world, we understand this collective idea of reality is nothing more than vibrations of matter, but to live while asleep is more rewarding than this world.
I wish a hasten my return, to the world of nemo, no longer little, he's a king under there, watching over our slumber. Over 100 years old now, though age in slumber matters little.
I awoke, to this world of noise.
A fathers wish.
As I carve the thirty-second notch in this thing you call a life, I'm reminded of the only thing that keeps me going. They should be with me right now, but the mental illness still wanders these halls at night, something I cannot subject my children to. Her illness can't effect them, it does enough damage to the rest of us.
How will they see me years from now? How will they remember their father?
The failure I feel like? Or will I manage to give them at least one thing to respect?
I love them both so much, I hope they know that. Even as my last name is erased from history, I hope they keep a small piece of me in their hearts.
Traces of my presence can be felt, I hope, in the hearts if those that have actually known me. Fragments of me are left behind in what I've chosen to share with the world. This all sounds very sad, but you're just reading it wrong. I wear suach a grin when I manage to leave this prison of a house, you'll only see me wear a smile.... When you see me.
How will they see me years from now? How will they remember their father?
The failure I feel like? Or will I manage to give them at least one thing to respect?
I love them both so much, I hope they know that. Even as my last name is erased from history, I hope they keep a small piece of me in their hearts.
Traces of my presence can be felt, I hope, in the hearts if those that have actually known me. Fragments of me are left behind in what I've chosen to share with the world. This all sounds very sad, but you're just reading it wrong. I wear suach a grin when I manage to leave this prison of a house, you'll only see me wear a smile.... When you see me.
It is
Today marks the annual celebratory practice of the recognition that I was indeed squirted out of my mothers vagina. Some humm-diggity years later I have one failed marriage, a bad back, and several piercings to mark my path on this mortal tether. Like me more now? Yeah, me either.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
If only they understood
It's hard to explain to anyone how my life works. I guess I started thinking about this when I saw someone at the store yesterday that doesn't like me anymore, but we used to be good friends. I started to try and remember why we weren't friends anymore, then realized it wasn't worth drudging up old memories.
I am going through a lot of hardships right now, and still trying to be positive and accomplish what I've set out to do.
Mental disorders hault life, stunt the spiritual growth of an individual, even if it's not their mental health issue. I deal with it everyday, between my own problems, and mental health problems of others in the house, it seems I don't get to live a "normal" life.
Today was supposed to be epic, huge plans... But I'm watching it unravel. I can tell how the day will end. I won't project it in that direction, I'll fight to keep it enjoyable for others, but on the inside I'll be hurting.
Because of household issues I don't even know if I'll get my kids next week, that breaks pretty much what was left of my heart.
I am going through a lot of hardships right now, and still trying to be positive and accomplish what I've set out to do.
Mental disorders hault life, stunt the spiritual growth of an individual, even if it's not their mental health issue. I deal with it everyday, between my own problems, and mental health problems of others in the house, it seems I don't get to live a "normal" life.
Today was supposed to be epic, huge plans... But I'm watching it unravel. I can tell how the day will end. I won't project it in that direction, I'll fight to keep it enjoyable for others, but on the inside I'll be hurting.
Because of household issues I don't even know if I'll get my kids next week, that breaks pretty much what was left of my heart.
Monday, March 7, 2011
25 lucid dreams and the illness that creeps in.
Last night and this morning I enjoyed the most lucidity I've had in a long time. My dreams were vivid and long lasting. I had time to meditate, fly, manipulate gravity, morph my world. In the first dream I used my favorite cue, my tattoos, to remind me I was dreaming, then for fun I made all the ink run down to my fingertips and seperate from my skin, then I manipulated the ink in the air.
In some of the dreams I was nude, but no one reacted oddly because they realized they were dream characters. In one I was running on the beach and felt the sand, built a sandcastle just because the reality of it felt amazing. I ran to the water and remembered dream water doesn't require holding breath, so I walked along the ocean floor examining and manipulating the various inhabitants.
I used a new technique, upon waking from a lucid dream, it can be difficult to fall back asleep, and harder still to remain lucid. I used a technique similar to self hypnosis, counting and becoming lighter, until I was floating in my bed, the transistion back into dream was perfect, as soon as I was floating I knew I was asleep.
I've returned to the stage, Saturday marked my first official live show with unto the black, and my first stage show in 2 years(other than hooks). It's great to get back up there, I'm sore and tired, and tommorow I take hooks. This is a major part of my life that was missing.
A familiar illness fills the halls of this home, she's letting herself slip again. My kids are to come for spring break, this may be difficult.
In some of the dreams I was nude, but no one reacted oddly because they realized they were dream characters. In one I was running on the beach and felt the sand, built a sandcastle just because the reality of it felt amazing. I ran to the water and remembered dream water doesn't require holding breath, so I walked along the ocean floor examining and manipulating the various inhabitants.
I used a new technique, upon waking from a lucid dream, it can be difficult to fall back asleep, and harder still to remain lucid. I used a technique similar to self hypnosis, counting and becoming lighter, until I was floating in my bed, the transistion back into dream was perfect, as soon as I was floating I knew I was asleep.
I've returned to the stage, Saturday marked my first official live show with unto the black, and my first stage show in 2 years(other than hooks). It's great to get back up there, I'm sore and tired, and tommorow I take hooks. This is a major part of my life that was missing.
A familiar illness fills the halls of this home, she's letting herself slip again. My kids are to come for spring break, this may be difficult.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
If it's not broke...
But it is. I'm going to call them and fix this, I'm going to start feeling better, and make everything as good as it can be.
March is hectic, so many great things happening... At the end of the day, there's only one thing on my mind.
March is hectic, so many great things happening... At the end of the day, there's only one thing on my mind.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Last night...
I had stopped believing in people, last night that changed.
I know it wasn't exactly what it seemed, and I'm ok with that, I'm just happy to feel like there are still people, that could at least potentially care. Humanity still has a soul... I don't have to feel lost. She was an amazing person, I don't expect it to mean anything more than it was on the surface, it's just great to feel human again. And god, just to hold someone, it reminded me why it's worth leaving my house sometimes.
I know it wasn't exactly what it seemed, and I'm ok with that, I'm just happy to feel like there are still people, that could at least potentially care. Humanity still has a soul... I don't have to feel lost. She was an amazing person, I don't expect it to mean anything more than it was on the surface, it's just great to feel human again. And god, just to hold someone, it reminded me why it's worth leaving my house sometimes.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
A return to lucidity
After weeks of insomnia I finally got back on medication. After just two days I had a long lucid dream last night. I was dreaming of my aunt and cousins again, at one point I was in a room by myself and I looked at my arms, as soon as I saw my tattoos weren't normal I became lucid. I was on my way to leave the house when I passed my cousin, I stopped, took her in another room. I had my goodbye talk that I never got to have with her, said everything I wanted to, and I let all of the sadness in me go, I cried, then continued with a more normal lucid dream of flying and things of that nature.
The brain works in funny ways, you can achieve more in two minutes in a lucid dream, than you can in weeks of therapy. The conscious mind is stubborn, but the subconscious is open to suggestion. I made peace with my cousins memory, I love her and I miss her, but I've moved on.
Goodbye Amy.
The brain works in funny ways, you can achieve more in two minutes in a lucid dream, than you can in weeks of therapy. The conscious mind is stubborn, but the subconscious is open to suggestion. I made peace with my cousins memory, I love her and I miss her, but I've moved on.
Goodbye Amy.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Hello blog-diary thingy
I've been abusing you as of late... Have you missed me? I'm sorry, we need to hangout more, I've just been busy.
One would assume that I've been up to a lot of nothing, thus the silence, on the contrary I've kept myself quite entertained. Today will be the first day I practice with a new band, should be fun. Photography has been going well, and we are about to amp up the velocity once again. xXRx and the brothers darqly are playing live in march, to support the new xXRx album, darqpress 2 year anniversary, making it a FiXT promotional night, it's going to be at club zeal on tormented Tuesday. It's taking alot of my time to plan, practice, promote, and I still need to put together projection footage. Hopefully tax returns will arrive, and I'll have a new toy on stage :)
I've been off my meds for over three weeks, which isn't fun, but I'm coping. I go see my dr in a little over a week, I'm a bit upset about how my treatment over the last month has digressed.
Going to eureka springs in a few weeks, staying in an old hotel, doing photography, and relaxing in a different city...
Currently setting up photography pricing, since demand has gotten bigger, we are adjusting accordingly. Blah blah blah. I did stuff. Maybe I can sleep now.
One would assume that I've been up to a lot of nothing, thus the silence, on the contrary I've kept myself quite entertained. Today will be the first day I practice with a new band, should be fun. Photography has been going well, and we are about to amp up the velocity once again. xXRx and the brothers darqly are playing live in march, to support the new xXRx album, darqpress 2 year anniversary, making it a FiXT promotional night, it's going to be at club zeal on tormented Tuesday. It's taking alot of my time to plan, practice, promote, and I still need to put together projection footage. Hopefully tax returns will arrive, and I'll have a new toy on stage :)
I've been off my meds for over three weeks, which isn't fun, but I'm coping. I go see my dr in a little over a week, I'm a bit upset about how my treatment over the last month has digressed.
Going to eureka springs in a few weeks, staying in an old hotel, doing photography, and relaxing in a different city...
Currently setting up photography pricing, since demand has gotten bigger, we are adjusting accordingly. Blah blah blah. I did stuff. Maybe I can sleep now.
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