A combined entry. As in - some of you have seen the first half. Just skip it.
An excercise in freewriting. Basically - I'll set my alarm to go off in 5 minutes, and write whatever comes into my head for the allotted time. I'll try to kep it on topic as far as "normal" blogging goes, nothing incredible obscure. . . but we'll see. It might work, might not. No deleting, and no editing - barring spelling errors that I'll wind up fixing because I'm anal.
Ready? Go!
I'm suffering from a fever dream without ever closing my eyes. I haven't slept since yesterday or so. . . which because today is now tomorrow, means that yesterday was really the day before. And it's been two days.
The days all bend and drift in this unusual pattern of consciousness I inhabit. . . this state of constant dreaming with my eyes open.
I've had the most pleasurable outlook for the past few days, however. I have amazing friends, who unfortunately don't realize their importance to me. I need to fix this. Friends who give the best advice when they don't even realize I've asked. Subtly.
I've learned to let go. Stop chasing. Stop hoping. Things happen, they always do. What the fuck would life be without being a never ending series of "things happening?" I've just decided to stop making unachievable jumps. I will jump . . . I always do. Don't get me wrong, this is not about deciding to stop striving, by any means. I will jump for the fucking stars. Because the stars, to me, are more reachable than a lot of people out there. And that's what you should watch out for.
I've had butterflies quite consistantly for the past week or so. I like them. I think I might keep them. It's always better to smile at the smallest thought, isn't it? Always.
Alright, time's up. So, what's on your mind?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A little something I wrote a bit back.
I feel like fucking in the back of a Cadillac. I feel like listening to "My Love" and turning down the treble and turning up bass and crawling into the backseat.
How long has it been? Well, three weeks "technically," but just over two months in my mind. Two months since I've felt the same raw, unbridled, feverish fervor that only comes with our situation. It's easy enough to "make love" in your partner's bed, but it takes a certain person to find a location so unorthodox and so unexpected that all of the emotions felt are therefore felt tenfold.
It's too bad you decided to be so responsible. But really, I'd do the same thing in your place. I'm proud of you, in fact, for sticking to your guns. Hell, I wish I could do the same, now that I'm in your place. "And if I wrote you a love note, made you smile with every word I wrote (what would you do?)" The same thing that you'd do now. Good for you.
And so we sat, on those leather seats, smoke in the air and Strongbow on breath. I remember when we'd listened to this song together. We learned quite a bit about each other that night.
---
"You know. . . I actually kinda like this song, a little. . ." I'd said, sheepishly.
"Yeah, ha, actually, so do I!" You'd responded.
"Haha, I don't know why, I mean. . . normally I don't even like that sort of music. I mean, I dunno, it just makes me want to. . . ha. You know. . ."
"Yeah. Yeah, I know," you'd said. And you'd looked at me with that same look that you know how to look at me with. You know the one.
---
And then what always happens happened. The part where you tell your little sister to close her eyes.
And the fact that I remembered all of this is the point. And fuck me if it isn't.
An excercise in freewriting. Basically - I'll set my alarm to go off in 5 minutes, and write whatever comes into my head for the allotted time. I'll try to kep it on topic as far as "normal" blogging goes, nothing incredible obscure. . . but we'll see. It might work, might not. No deleting, and no editing - barring spelling errors that I'll wind up fixing because I'm anal.
Ready? Go!
I'm suffering from a fever dream without ever closing my eyes. I haven't slept since yesterday or so. . . which because today is now tomorrow, means that yesterday was really the day before. And it's been two days.
The days all bend and drift in this unusual pattern of consciousness I inhabit. . . this state of constant dreaming with my eyes open.
I've had the most pleasurable outlook for the past few days, however. I have amazing friends, who unfortunately don't realize their importance to me. I need to fix this. Friends who give the best advice when they don't even realize I've asked. Subtly.
I've learned to let go. Stop chasing. Stop hoping. Things happen, they always do. What the fuck would life be without being a never ending series of "things happening?" I've just decided to stop making unachievable jumps. I will jump . . . I always do. Don't get me wrong, this is not about deciding to stop striving, by any means. I will jump for the fucking stars. Because the stars, to me, are more reachable than a lot of people out there. And that's what you should watch out for.
I've had butterflies quite consistantly for the past week or so. I like them. I think I might keep them. It's always better to smile at the smallest thought, isn't it? Always.
Alright, time's up. So, what's on your mind?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A little something I wrote a bit back.
I feel like fucking in the back of a Cadillac. I feel like listening to "My Love" and turning down the treble and turning up bass and crawling into the backseat.
How long has it been? Well, three weeks "technically," but just over two months in my mind. Two months since I've felt the same raw, unbridled, feverish fervor that only comes with our situation. It's easy enough to "make love" in your partner's bed, but it takes a certain person to find a location so unorthodox and so unexpected that all of the emotions felt are therefore felt tenfold.
It's too bad you decided to be so responsible. But really, I'd do the same thing in your place. I'm proud of you, in fact, for sticking to your guns. Hell, I wish I could do the same, now that I'm in your place. "And if I wrote you a love note, made you smile with every word I wrote (what would you do?)" The same thing that you'd do now. Good for you.
And so we sat, on those leather seats, smoke in the air and Strongbow on breath. I remember when we'd listened to this song together. We learned quite a bit about each other that night.
---
"You know. . . I actually kinda like this song, a little. . ." I'd said, sheepishly.
"Yeah, ha, actually, so do I!" You'd responded.
"Haha, I don't know why, I mean. . . normally I don't even like that sort of music. I mean, I dunno, it just makes me want to. . . ha. You know. . ."
"Yeah. Yeah, I know," you'd said. And you'd looked at me with that same look that you know how to look at me with. You know the one.
---
And then what always happens happened. The part where you tell your little sister to close her eyes.
And the fact that I remembered all of this is the point. And fuck me if it isn't.
VIEW 25 of 41 COMMENTS
tritone:
Go to bed!
tritone:
Maybe I WILL!!!