They asked us if we could leave...

"you looked behind you to smile back at me
crashed into a rack full of magazines..."

...Though I'm sure you'd remind me if you had to. 

I don't sleep with a new girl. I'm quite happy with that. And my friends approve of her, even with her being good for me. She doesn't put too much stock in the Bible, and has such a dirty mouth. I like that about her. She's awkward in some certain situations and not very artsy. I love that line. And it's such a comfortable love for sure. 

I listen to music to tune out my thoughts. Memories of last year keep flooding my mind more and more. Trying to figure out what it all means. Why the brain and emotions function the way they do. I'm not faking any smiles. She has flaws, but that's what impresses me. It's a fine line between being misanthropic and social. But how do you face yourself and look in the mirror every morning. 

I roll with the punches for now. I learn to wade through the waters of sea-foam green. I learn to catch the tears falling from heaven and fill my cup with the morning dew. I emerge into the new order a succubus, a political vanguard with colored opinions and tainted speech, skewed view and irrational decisions. I pick the first one and cast the stone in hopes of creating ripples that will change the world. If there is a heaven and hell, I don't belong in heaven. I'm shy of the hours needed to graduate to the ranks of the angelic beings. So I stand at the door and cast stones at the windows, hoping to entice a maiden to grant me entrance. I ride the music wave to the heart of this world and watch as the ripples permeate all that is good. I combat the darkness with my soul and my silence and stand as the only beacon of hope and light. I permeate your thoughts and wedge my life in subtlety. I can safely say I'm in. I'm in.

I don't want to be a pen by which history is rewritten. I want to guide no man to the promise land. I just want to turn the thoughts off and drift into the seeming oblivion of the androids who do in fact dream of sheep. The safety blanket of all that is innocent in youth slowly slips and the silence is deafening. It is a cold space which chills to the bone. 

We're lost. All so utterly, inexplicably lost. We focus on the small and we worry about things that do not truly matter. Compare us to our ancestors and surely we are no worse. Yet we are better of in every regard, fail to realize this though we do. So block it all off. Shut it all off. Reboot this machine we call earth and give way to the new generation. But do so and forsake the beauty. The majesty. The elegance and the gift like no other. To do so would be righteous. Yet to do so would be the travesty of eons. 

The drugs that rot our minds offer the brief pathway into the otherworldly of which can only dream of. The escape is damnable. Do or do not, there is no try. Yet in trying we do and in doing we enable. And in enabling we only further what we know is not right. And in furthering it we are simply driven to do not. But how can one do not and waste what is supposed to be given. The dream is ever present, so effervescent, so out of reach. It walks in the shadows, behind walls and the curtains, it is the noise on our windows that disappears when we search for it. So what is one to do. What can I do. How do I live and not waste my life. How do I know I have lived a good life? A fulfilling life?

Music. Music. It's all about music. It's the thread that connects and separates. The flowing liquid guiding our paths while we watch on and wonder. Can't remember, what went wrong last September. Though I can. I am reminded all the time. And yet in my comfort my memories haunt me. They race through my mind and I have lost the power to turn them off. 

"I sleep with this new girl i'm still getting used to

my friends all approve, say she's gonna be good for you
they throw me, high fives"

I prefer profanity. A dirty mouth is the cleanest mouth. It is the one most true to itself. No pretenses. Just being yourself. How to be yourself? What does that even mean? Do words even really have any meaning? Is there power in the man who does not speak but observes? Is the age old adage no longer relevant in our time? Is he a fool now who does not speak though he knows, and he how does not know but speaks a hero? A gentleman of the highest regard. 

The sea-foam green permeates this moment. Filled with a yellow undertone and a blue hue. The more I think the less I think, the less I know. My mind melts away and my thoughts take their own form in the void oblivion. I no longer seek approval. For your opinion I do not care. It factors not into my equation. The purple onions dance in front of the pink unicorn pony and as he jumps over the rainbow his white horn explodes with the mindless numbness that is so sought after. It calms the people and the nations rejoice in his love, his compassion and his care for them. They are but ants, clothed in their burlap sacks and riding their waves to safety as their fields sit and rot, yet they thank him. They praise him and call him Lord. Our God they say, you have freed us from temptation and have given us the promise of the eternal. This world matters not for someday we will get to ride your rainbow in the sky and sit by your side. All the while, he looks quizzically and fails to comprehend. Was it all for him? Was his the glory? The eternal and everlasting? Did Thomas suffer for his sake? Why? 

"You remember the house on Ridge Road 

told you and the Devil to both just leave me alone.
If this is salvation, I can show you the trembling.
You'll just have to trust me. I'm scared."

Are we all just a lost cause? Do our words fall on deaf ears? What's the price of four little souls? The price of the magician is a burden we shall all bear! Just lost causes. Music and lost causes. It goes and drives the earth as the spine chilling shrill permeates our ears. They go on. They march and like ants fall in line. They follow the line to the bottle of hydrochloric acid which burns them all, their flesh mixing with the smell and the putrid stench an acrid cry for help. Yet they march. They leave no comrade behind. They march like without a head and wait for the great salvation to overtake us all. The comrades watch as we all fall down like a brick house of dominoes. 

"Oh, please don't drop me home

Because its not my home, its their
Home, and I'm welcome no more"

For now I am found. I stand above the ocean and watch the foam collect. To die by your side, all of you, well the pleasure and privlidge truly is mine. I am doomed to watch you and you me, and I will watch you until my eyes no longer hold their sparkle, and defend you with my last breath. But no longer will I be me. We gave up that right when we were raised. I go. I live. I learn. And I fail. And I wait for the light before being cast into the hell I believe not in. I am the light. Are you? I will never go out and I will live on forever. For I am not a solitary soldier. I am one of a million. My generation shall prosper and fight on. I am an antique in an ever forgetting world. There is a light and I am it. 

The city is burning and we are all trapped. So we dance. We dance to the music. We will never leave, even if they ask us. For we must dance to the music. The music compels us to dance. So we dance and never leave. It our own personal hell after all. 

And they say we are lost. No my friends, we are not lost. We're just dancing to their music no longer, but to our own beat. I dream of Katy Perry. I think I should know how to make love to something innocent without leaving my fingerprints out. I am an everlasting hunter. In a moment like this, clarity is visible. And the meaning of life is before us all. So we drink to kill ourselves. 

I'm not your knight in shinning armor. It's time to go our separate ways. I won't regret I'll just forget. I'm through letting this torment me. No longer will you be a monster underneath my bed. 

We have come to the end of the ride. Which way will you go? Personally, I'm going North. Follow the migration of the birds and watch the sparrows collect on the birch. To see them is to be alive.  

I hear what you're saying, but you're missing the point. So before we cause a problem could we solve it instead? 

I'm dreaming with a broken heart. But I am awake. 

Rose in hand, I step outside.

Ain't no sunshine

...When she's gone.

I want to shoot heroin and get rocked out of my mind right now.

It's a perfect rainy day. It's a miserable mood outside, yet I have so much built up energy and life.
This mood is not apathy I would argue. It's built on a large ego instead. It's hard to explain. So I won't. I know what it is. I know what I want. And that's all that really matters. I don't see why we're always so obsessed with explain things to others. If it works for you, run with it. Why do we always look for affirmation from others?

Living wasteland...

I find the SGA and the machine pathetic. Not to be feared, but to be pitied. Their lives and thought processes are humorous at best. It's nothing but a large conglomeration of the weakest links of humanity. It's like a bunch of toothless, scrappy little pups banding together to make their bark louder than anyone else's, yet what can they really accomplish if you just ignore them? They can bite you, but won't cause any injury or serious damage. It's more pathetic than anything else really.

I find myself to be on a verge of eliminating my cowardice. I'm a coward. A big one at that. And it bothers me. I have grand dreams and a large hero complex, yet when faced with confrontation of any kind, I cower and back away. It's partly a response to the way I've been trained and raised I suppose. Coming from nothing, you can't really afford to step on toes or stand out because society will not stand for you. It doesn't care about your intentions. Or your well-meaning will. It just cares about how you can better it materially, at any cost. So you're taught to keep out of the way. Avoid confrontation "until it's your time." But your time never comes. And that's where it's beautiful. It's built to make you think your time will come and you'll have a great moment of redemption when you'll be able to say "HA! look at me now!"...but you never will. Very few ever do, and they have to sacrifice much to get there. And even when they get there, the system still manages to ignore them and belittle their accomplishments because they're not part of the system. No matter how equal or superior the ground may be to the system, the system will convince the other sheep that you are the one who is wrong. That it is jealousy. Envy. Perversion. The system doesn't lose. It always wins. It must always win. And even when it "changes" for the better, it doesn't actually change according to the will of the sheep. No, it changes according to its own will and at its own pace.

So they say join them if you can't beat them. Fuck that I say. Just live and fuck them. Live as you see fit, and fuck the system. Don't acknowledge it. And that terrifies the system. The people who get outside of the system and simply refuse it. The matrix makes sense in that light as well. Perhaps it wasn't an allegory of the dangers of human hubris, but rather a commentary on the "system" of society. It makes beautiful sense as such. The system will force try to force you to play by its rules, even if that means making you an opponent within itself because that's the only thing it knows. It knows nothing else. It can't. It's not smart enough. And that's where it's flaw is. It presumes that it has no weak links. But the fact that it exists at all is a weakness. The only and biggest it could possibly have.

I don't want to fret the small stuff anymore. It's so easy to get caught up in the details and forget the big picture. And it's so easy to try and focus on the big picture so much that it inevitably becomes nothing but a large detail in its own right. Hedonism amuses me. Intelligence amuses me. If a man wants to live all day and fuck a horse and gets immense pleasure from that, why should intelligence object to that? Assume he's not hurting the horse, what is wrong with that? Sure he's not contributing to society as a whole, but he's not negatively contributing either. He just is. And that is beautiful. Yet extremely stupid at the same time.

What you feel is what you are and what you are is beautiful...Run away.

I want to wake up on a cloud and fall to my death. I want to look at myself while I'm falling and realize the meaning of life. I want to rise above the futility of it all and wake up right before I hit the ground. I love music. Sex and the concept of "sex sells" is very humorous in a pathetic sort of way.

"I sleep with this new girl i'm still getting used to
my friends all approve, say she's gonna be good for you
they throw me, high fives"

They all approve...once again, all about approval and affirmation. Music is very profound. The melodies of music can say more than words ever could. Coltrane; few people know that name now days. That's sad. When a song is playing and the greens mix with the blues, and the yellows come in to carry the bridge, and the whole thing becomes a soft dark blue shadow...it's absolutely the closest to truth about anything I think we'll ever get. I believe there is nothing more pure or true in this world than music. Then again, I would argue that there's no room for limp dicks on Mars as well. That seems very true. Very profound. 

Marijuana confounds me. I don't see why it's illegal. Then again I don't care. It's just part of the system. You know, I wish we could all just step back my friend. Backbeat that the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out. They start off very similarly. I crave a cigarette. A good glass of jack and a cigarette, with the sun going down and the perfect temperature outside, with only a hint of a cool breeze. I long for the good times of last year. I love for the positive experiences. Nostalgia gets to me. I'm very nostalgic. I'm afraid to fly on airplanes, yet I realize it's a useless fear. You're my wonderwall. Two for two is four yet who is going to chase Alice down the watering hole? The white rabbit is missing a food and the monocle is looking broken all the same. There is no sound on the deck except for the night and the light of the stars, the smell of the salt water and the breath of the ocean as it swallows you into the ever-expanding oblivion. They tell you it's vast yet not limitless, but I'd argue otherwise. How do we know? It's all about perception, and perception fails us. 

I like the Fray. I like the piano. Wish I could play the piano like the black cat on groundhog day. With Bill Murray riding through the streets of New Orleans with Kind of Fire jumping at his heels. Lets re-arrange, I wish you were a stranger I could disengage. I want to know myself on an subconscious level, find another friend and lose the cable car down the San Francisco street as blood drips from the knife in his hand as she watches. There's only eight seconds left and the ball goes between the posts, its in, they all cheer, yet what has he really accomplished? He'll go and drink himself to sleep tonight and play a big man tomorrow, yet none of it will last. We all die and the crows will sing us to wherever the hell it is we all go. If we go anywhere. Who cares really? We worry about that too much. I want to jump the grand canyon. I want to drink the ocean. To feel the sun on my skin and climb a mountain. To live as if I never existed and as if I never will. I want to know why I am who I am. I fear I will fail in everything I do and it worries me. Yet at the same time I can't worry too much about it. My fears cripple me yet my apathy and laziness drive me forward. It's a beautiful cycle. I'm a cynic. I'm a coward. I worry. And yet I go on. We all go on. Just like the last time, and yesterday, and last night, and as we will tomorrow. We march to our tune and climb those green melodies as they turn to a golden yellow hue and drop into an oblivion more daunting and at the same time welcoming than a thousand suns bursting into a supernova. 

I like it. I like everything. I'm ok with the world for now. I'm ok with being. And that's good. I want to fuck a supermodel until my dick falls of an never stop until they drag me away. I want to drink a bucket of salt and wake up in a jail cell with my pants around my ankles in small white underwear, slightly stained yellow from when I pissed myself the night before. And I want to read the Bible right then and there. Not for moral sake. Just because it seems like something to do. It seems like the perfect time. They'll all look and say "wow, he's really changed. He feels remorse" and I'll laugh and think "why didn't Jesus just fly and shoot lightning all the time.' And fucking drowned Peter. He was a useless sack of shit. They all were. If you teach a man to fish he'll still be fucked because you never gave him a fishing rod. How is he supposed to fish without a tool? The red nectar of life and the world drips slowly into our buckets and we collect it like good little soldiers, desperately seeking daddy's approval and smiling when he pats us on the head. And all the while he is burning our backs with his yellow lighter, grinning as we twitch and writhe in pain. And yet we wait for the bucket and the dripping. Even maple trees have it better than this. The yellows are powerful. They're bright. They can obscure and hide. There are people who fear the color yellow. It's fucking hilarious

"By the time I recognize this moment

This moment will be gone

But I will bend the light, pretend that it somehow lingered on"

I would live inside of John Mayer's body so I can feel what a racist dick feels like. I wonder if it likes wantons? Probably not. And yet we go on, and we shine our shoes and pay the little street urchin for the paper which just goes to tell us the greens and reds will never mix. They can't meld. They're not as good as the yellows. My mind is very filled with colors. It's focused on the things it shouldn't be. And yet I like it like that. It lends me sanity in the only way I recognize. 

There's so much sacred in the month of June.

Tonight, not again

"Smell the childhood remnants of the dusty weeping willow"

Very beautiful line.

I want to be able to write from the subconscious. Stream of consciousness is very fascinating. It's very intriguing how people are able to create such amazing works of art and make it seem so natural.

Music writer fascinate me. The work it takes to create the perfect blend of lyrics with meaning and make them relateable to everyone is just insane.

"Well if you should nervously break down
When its time for the shakedown would you take it
It's when you cry just a little but you laugh in the middle that you've made it
And don't it feel allright. and don't it feel so nice? "

I like that a lot. It's very uplifting. Lately I find myself in a weird limbo mentally speaking. Everything is fine. Nothing is wrong. But nothing is particularly interesting or "right" so to say. Everything just sort of is. And it's a positive sort of "is" though. I'm looking forward to spring break. Not sure what that'll bring, but I figure it'll be interesting. I want to read. I want to read all the books I can think of in an instant, yet be able to fully feel the experience of actually reading the book and having read the book at the same time. It's confusing. I love books. The physical act of owning a book is just...there's something very special about it. The smell, the feel, the sound of pages. It's a very comforting thing. It's as if when everything else is going wrong, books are always there and constant and same. There's something very comforting about that.

I want to know people more. I want to know people on a more personal level. Find out about them. Talk to them. I love the stage of relationships (friendship/romantic/etc) where you're just getting to know the person. There's something very magical and exciting about that. It's very refreshing. And I want to do nothing but talk to people. And listen to them. And hear their views. And tell them mine. And change them. And adapt them. 

I really like Jason Mraz's music. I also like Robert Pattinson's music. It's very bluesy and tortured-soul type of music. Like the old blues. "Mraz" means frost in most Slavic languages. 

I want to do everything and be involved in everything, yet I'm too lazy and lethargic to do any of it. I love the dreaming stage. I want to dream things up, and come up with ideas, and then see them implemented without having to put any of my effort in. But I want it done my way and want to experience it.

Now that ALMUN's over, it's a very bittersweet moment. I hated ALMUN near the end. It gave me headaches and a queasy stomach to think about it, but I don't think it was the stress. I realized it was the fear that was making me feel that way. I had come to believe that I failed in the expectations for the conference, and that I would let down not only the club members, but the sponsors and students, and leave the conference even off than it was before I ever took it on. And it terrified me. I wanted nothing but the best for this conference, and near the end, I began to believe that I couldn't give it what it needed and deserved. And it scared the hell out of me. So I ran. And I gave up. And I complained and I quit. I took the coward's way out because I wasn't strong enough to face the possibility of having failed. And that scares me. It says a lot about me as a person. And I always thought that when it came to situations such as that, I'd be able to step up. But over the past year a lot has changed.

I rarely talk to my parents anymore. It scares me. I don't think I'm handling the transition into this new phase of life as well as I thought I would when it came. It came so suddenly and so subtly that I feel like I didn't even realize what was happening before it happened. I love a good beer. A nice, rich, dark beer just sits so right. It's very comforting. Not even for the alcohol. Can't explain it. 

I've been trying to find the balance between not caring about the minor and the unimportant, and yet caring enough so that I don't come of as lethargic and apathetic. I'm not apathetic. That's not it. It's just that I can't stand to see the people, and the system, and the world in general, in such a state as it is. I can see possible solutions for all of it, yet each one of them has an unintended negative consequence. It's like, I can't stand to watch the world so close to perfection yet so far away, yet at the same time I can't do anything about it. It's the worst Catch 22. 

I'm looking forward to being able to afford a new guitar. Already have her in mind. I miss playing guitar. It's very...it's hard to explain. Music really does seem like the glue that holds the world together. It makes so much of our life. Emotions. Mental State. Thoughts. It's so intertwined into every part of our life that I don't think I even realize the full scope of it. I really want to get to know the different people on campus who work on different styles of music and learn from them. I want to do so much. Now that I'm about to enter my last year of college, I see how much I've wasted and how much potential it had. But I don't think it would have made any difference. Hindsight and all that. 

"If all is grounded, you should go make a mountain out of it."

I like that quote a lot. Very self empowering. I worry about my health. About the unforeseen that could happen and change my life forever. Yet I know I can't do anything about it and it's pointless. I really want to learn to write computer code. I'd love to be computer savvy and do a hacker-esque job for my "9-5."

I like marijuana.