fuck. feeling a bit tired. feel like playing around on this site, but i don't have the energy for any worthwhile responses.
i just got back from watching the french film ALPHAVILLE with my pal jacob. it was pretty loopy and leads me to believe that the director had suddenly lost his mind for the period of time it took to conceive and shoot the film. i can only assume that very many people trusted him very much and felt the need to just "follow the directors vision" to get this dreamy piece of pulp-fiction turned sci-fi turned surrealist 60's poetry completed.
my belly is very, very unhappy right now. for breakfast (at 2:30 pm), i had oreo's, thanks to the representative of nabisco that i was kissing last night. for lunch (at 5pm) i had a meatball hoagie. for a snack on the way to jacobs (at 9:15 pm) i had a mrs. fields peanut butter chocolate chip cookie, for dinner (at 10:00 pm) jacob and i had scrambled eggs made with salmon and salsa (!) with a nice salad dressed with blueberry vinagarette, olive oil and parmesan cheese (the salad had avocado in it too
) then we went to a cafe and i had a hot chocolate with whipped cream (at about 11:00 pm), then we went back to his apartment to watch the movie, wherein we ate pita chips with green onion dip (at about 12:30 am), and now (at 2:31 am) i just want to 
.
***
did some kissin' last night. don't know yet how i feel about it. i've felt mostly disgusted by it today, but the jury isn't in yet. she was a cutie, no doubt about that. both of the roommates sang her praises this morning.
there is a part of me (a rather large part) that sees no interest whatsoever in kisses that are not inspired by a crazed and rampant passion devouring every instance of my being.
there is a part of me (somewhat small and easily influenced) that feels the need to fulfill some type of manly role and take every opportunity that i can to kiss whichever girls come along.
there is a part of me (not too powerful, but staggeringly curious in its artistic nature) that wants to take all of these opportunities and new experiences, casually participate in them and file them away for later use (artistic, not masturbatory
).
i feel like a robot that has just been made human sometimes. i lie in the arms of a girl, in my room, on my futon, staring into oblivion, while she shares pieces of herself, and i run through these things in my head. i am here, but i am somewhere else. last night, i was lost in contemplation:
to kiss,
or not to kiss,
that is the hang-up,
whether tis' nobler in solitude,
to continue one's lonliness,
amidst dreams of firey passion,
or, to take into my arms,
those who would take me into theirs...
and by accepting her,
assuaging my feelings, longings, and desires.
to yearn, to want, to dream --
NO MORE!
for in those arms that hold me and kiss me,
is an exercise in animal attraction,
a profound distraction,
a consolation prize,
my body, instead of my mind,
your lips on mine,
your body wrapped in my arms,
but there is,
no passion for her,
that drives me forward.
and what about the girl, whose body i could worship? that construction of perfection, that organic arrangement i was profoundly captivated in kissing? i had a shot at her mind, but i didn't explore behind her eyes, my hands wandered in the dark and found ribs and hip bones and traced the contours from breast over belly to pelvis. i never touched anyone like her (body, not mind).
i have thought about her a lot in the last few weeks. to commit or not to commit (i'll save you the parody -- this time). i can only promise to give certain parts of myself and who wants a boyfriend that treats himself like a living sacrifice?
the girls, at first, they love the artist, until they realize (or admit to themselves) that he is living for something else. living as an exercise in experience. living a sacrifice to knowledge, walking away from the easy paths and trying to break every boundary on his own...
i am good for kissing and movie watching and crying on. i am good for walks in the autumn and falling asleep under the covers in the winter. i will keep you warm, i will kiss your neck, i will rub your belly until you fall asleep, i will look you in the eyes when we talk...
my fingers will touch your body like it is an act of worship, my movements with yours, an expression: living, breathing, feeling, art.
and all of this time, i'm just a confused and frustrated boy, falling behind, hateful and scornful and full of bitterness, dedicated at all times, to the evolution of self and the growth of his work and skills.
at some point, i often assume, that i will meet an intelligence that cripples me, a beauty that humbles me, passion that inspires me, and care and concern that erode the shell i have been, carefully, deliberately, and studiously building around myself.
what do i do until then?
i just got back from watching the french film ALPHAVILLE with my pal jacob. it was pretty loopy and leads me to believe that the director had suddenly lost his mind for the period of time it took to conceive and shoot the film. i can only assume that very many people trusted him very much and felt the need to just "follow the directors vision" to get this dreamy piece of pulp-fiction turned sci-fi turned surrealist 60's poetry completed.
my belly is very, very unhappy right now. for breakfast (at 2:30 pm), i had oreo's, thanks to the representative of nabisco that i was kissing last night. for lunch (at 5pm) i had a meatball hoagie. for a snack on the way to jacobs (at 9:15 pm) i had a mrs. fields peanut butter chocolate chip cookie, for dinner (at 10:00 pm) jacob and i had scrambled eggs made with salmon and salsa (!) with a nice salad dressed with blueberry vinagarette, olive oil and parmesan cheese (the salad had avocado in it too
) then we went to a cafe and i had a hot chocolate with whipped cream (at about 11:00 pm), then we went back to his apartment to watch the movie, wherein we ate pita chips with green onion dip (at about 12:30 am), and now (at 2:31 am) i just want to .
***
did some kissin' last night. don't know yet how i feel about it. i've felt mostly disgusted by it today, but the jury isn't in yet. she was a cutie, no doubt about that. both of the roommates sang her praises this morning.
there is a part of me (a rather large part) that sees no interest whatsoever in kisses that are not inspired by a crazed and rampant passion devouring every instance of my being.
there is a part of me (somewhat small and easily influenced) that feels the need to fulfill some type of manly role and take every opportunity that i can to kiss whichever girls come along.
there is a part of me (not too powerful, but staggeringly curious in its artistic nature) that wants to take all of these opportunities and new experiences, casually participate in them and file them away for later use (artistic, not masturbatory
).
i feel like a robot that has just been made human sometimes. i lie in the arms of a girl, in my room, on my futon, staring into oblivion, while she shares pieces of herself, and i run through these things in my head. i am here, but i am somewhere else. last night, i was lost in contemplation:
to kiss,
or not to kiss,
that is the hang-up,
whether tis' nobler in solitude,
to continue one's lonliness,
amidst dreams of firey passion,
or, to take into my arms,
those who would take me into theirs...
and by accepting her,
assuaging my feelings, longings, and desires.
to yearn, to want, to dream --
NO MORE!
for in those arms that hold me and kiss me,
is an exercise in animal attraction,
a profound distraction,
a consolation prize,
my body, instead of my mind,
your lips on mine,
your body wrapped in my arms,
but there is,
no passion for her,
that drives me forward.
and what about the girl, whose body i could worship? that construction of perfection, that organic arrangement i was profoundly captivated in kissing? i had a shot at her mind, but i didn't explore behind her eyes, my hands wandered in the dark and found ribs and hip bones and traced the contours from breast over belly to pelvis. i never touched anyone like her (body, not mind).
i have thought about her a lot in the last few weeks. to commit or not to commit (i'll save you the parody -- this time). i can only promise to give certain parts of myself and who wants a boyfriend that treats himself like a living sacrifice?
the girls, at first, they love the artist, until they realize (or admit to themselves) that he is living for something else. living as an exercise in experience. living a sacrifice to knowledge, walking away from the easy paths and trying to break every boundary on his own...
i am good for kissing and movie watching and crying on. i am good for walks in the autumn and falling asleep under the covers in the winter. i will keep you warm, i will kiss your neck, i will rub your belly until you fall asleep, i will look you in the eyes when we talk...
my fingers will touch your body like it is an act of worship, my movements with yours, an expression: living, breathing, feeling, art.
and all of this time, i'm just a confused and frustrated boy, falling behind, hateful and scornful and full of bitterness, dedicated at all times, to the evolution of self and the growth of his work and skills.
at some point, i often assume, that i will meet an intelligence that cripples me, a beauty that humbles me, passion that inspires me, and care and concern that erode the shell i have been, carefully, deliberately, and studiously building around myself.
what do i do until then?
VIEW 12 of 12 COMMENTS
geekgurl:
Well, I don't have a definite job title or anything, but basically I answer the phone, take work orders from walk-ins, type up invoices and help with billing and accounts payable stuff. Fun, huh?
severus:
thank you, just some old 'crap' pics really, i want my new camera NOW. but i have to wait some more... thanks for the fonts baby, brilliant!