ghosts still keep the bed warm

how is it that just by talking to someone
you can feel them slipping through your fingers?

and you know you have no control over it
you've never had control

paradoxically, with just the right words
they can lull you back into a false sense of security
or at the very least the security of longing.
of missing.

so how's it going to be?
you can't change and stay the same
and if an individual changes the relation ships he maintains
must be revised due simply to the fact that he is not the same person.

maybe underneath, the same, but the aspects being explored and moved into of their personality will be what you are reunited with.
i may or may not have contradicted above statement, but...

you can love who someone was
love what they are going to be

but when you don't know either, and you still love, where do you go?
what do you have to stand on?
when? when you love the person you know is there, but can't see?
yes, when you fall for the raw humanity of a person who supresses that rawness because he views it as vualnerability.

but you know it's there.
always have

a part of a human being that is so raw must still be there,
it's that part of a person that, at it's core, willnever change - just wear many masks.

but if the part you love is burried, can you still love what is exposed?
even it if is completely contradictory of what you love? even if you know it is a lie, show, wall.
how can you not?
but how can you?

so how about this:
you have loved this person that only you see - that is guised through reputation to the rest of the world - when you see this person again, even after a brief hiatus, or a long one,
won't you, regardless of cercumstance, see that person you fell for the first time?

isn't it natural to see what you want to see
even at just at first?

sure, because we are all looking to fullfill ourselves,
we all just want to feel. be inspired.

if you found it in somewhere once
you'll look again
even if it is just insurance, just superstion.
ritual.

maybe i am just looking to hard
afraid to abandon ritual - even harmfull ritual -
or maybe i just don't know what i am talking about.

poisoned, for the feeling

an internal paradox:

what i need to survive feeds only on that which kills me.

so really what i need to do is turn me weakness into a strenght
but i doing that i fear i would make every other aspect of my induvidual weaker.

and it's hard at a distance, memories arnt maliable and neither is the past.
turning around now would be the worst thing for me, but am i really any farther ahead from where i started?
no

sometimes i wonder why i even try
i think it comes from the desire to feel again.
yeah, thats it.

an intervention, a lullaby

circumstances make decsions for you.
other people who create circumstances make decsions for you.

but if every one is in control of someone elses cirumctances,
do you ever truely make your own decsion?
of course you do.

ok, so you make your own personal - all you're choice - decsion,
that effects someone else, you have added a variable to someone elses life/situation, that
- had you made a different/opposing decsion - would not have been there.

does that make sense?
everything effects something.
chaing reaction. cause and effect:

rudimentairy concepts taught in elementary schools
to children to niave to grasp the profundancy of the contept.

so...this decsion is made for you (unbeknownst to your knowledge)
and your reaction is to fight it, natuarl instinct, anything we have not decided for ourselves, personally, attacks our principles of self advocacy that have been shoved down our throats since we can remember.

you cant change the circumstance, and frankly if you had been there, the same conclusion would have been reached.
the only differance is that you would have had the peace of mind that you had a say in your surroundings.
the peace of compromise, and self advocacy, that you have so systimaticly been robbed of.

having analyzed this on a small scale reffering to a shedualing problem, could the concept not be applied to a broader cirumstance, say polotics or even - if you stretch it, physics - although my knowledge of either topic is slim and patheticly lacking conviction.

it was just a thought
and more a lecture to myself on perspective and the like.

crawl right through me

how is it that a person miles and hours away can feel closer
than they did when they were right next to you?

and how can you still be within their grasp
even though you can't see them for miles?

small sentances, expertly placed words,
have more of a significant impact than i would have thought.
- as has been proved by my last two entries -

or maybe i knew it and closed my ears to it before,
because i didn't want to hear it.
now for some reason, they are the only things i hear.

-perception? interesting.

simple words bring things back - blocked memories.
bring things down - walls.

and send you back ten spaces on the game board.
do not pass go.
do not collect two hundred dollars.
draw four.
sorry!

"lady luck."
that bitch.

is it a . . . weakness?
wishfull thinking? am i actually hearing things? just talking to myself?

or is it just a longing for familiarity?


it may be all of the above.
but it would be even worse to ignore the fact that it was there, correct?
even if it hurts?
repeatedly.

priorites and trust.

grey areas and strings.

does this ever get easier?
would you want it to even if it did?

the fortune teller's right

interesting...how with two sentences one person can ruin an entire relationship.
even if the relationship - i guess i should say aquaintance to get the point across- was short
it still matters. everyone you meet should matter.

and if things become a matter of ritual, or dependancy, shouldn't they be significant?
you would think.

i guess it is almost impossible to know how much a person puts into a "relationship".
i use the word lightly, to mean relations between two people, not at all romantic, esspecially not now.
ritual, i thought, should be a good indication that there is repetivite and equal work going into said relation, but i was wrong.
what else is new?

is it not atleast common sense to tred carefully on the topic of the meaning refering to a whole time spent together, as to not do what was just done. shatter it. completly destroy any illusion or memory of a particular person, any significant event.


it's things breaking as they fade away...
or after they are out of sight.

it's not fair to dig it back up and break it appart.
damnit.

esspecially when you can't even imagine what you are doing to the person on the other end of the phone line.

that's why i hung up.
[ a goodbye isn't a promise, and sometimes you don't deserve one. ]

it comes back to "knowing" people, and then finding out otherwise.
it's trusting, and walls and ritual.

guess the walls were higher than i thought
to bad that came to my attention after i tried to scale them

you can't save people,
and i keep trying.

i'll learn eventually,
or maybe you just did.

over my shoulder

i hate to write when i have nothing new to say.
redundancy and all that.

so i'll let steve martin explain the revelation someone to this day has yet to be able to explain to me. and after four years, this is the closest i can get.
i think he'd agree.

"He feels a loss as he watches her walk away. How is it possible, he thinks, to
miss a woman he kept at a distance so that when she was gone he would not miss
her. . ."

buying lines

you tell yourself not to want something.
- - so of course, you want it all the more.

it's cliche: we want what we can't have.

it's this familiar feeling
that the more i tell myself
not to look for/ expect this
the more i will.

i know my hopes are piling
and for that reason
i know they will fall.

because they always do.
because every situation is familiar and stale
(and apparently i was more jaded than i thought?)

i can't even stand to listen to myself...

hello self fulfilling prophecy, how are you?
why i'm fine thanks, glad you've invited me back
but of course, i've missed you. how long was it you were away?
o only a matter of weeks dear.

it's rediculous how much i think.
and then, when i should be thinking, when the moment is primed for premeditated thought, i become spontaneous.
and get myself in these places.

circular and redundant thought,
not to mention cliche
- it almost makes me sick.

you're going through the motions.
but there is still that nostaligic aftertaste in the back of my throat.
- the one that tastes like: "this will all fall apart"
(he'll run just as you start to see him clearly)

because just as soon as you start to want something
is about the time you don't need it anymore
or it doesn't need you anymore

or, is it that about the time you don't need anymore is about the time you realized you did, at one point not so long ago - need it.

but something in me says i still need this,
if nothing more i need insipiration.
if nothing less i need a reprieve from this empty/ numbness.

maybe i should just shut up. [ and stop thinking? ]
maybe.

they say that you're an artist

how is it that someone who extracts
no more than rudimentary emotions from you
can still sufficiently inspire you?

obviously you do not have to be "in love"
to be inspired - that, in many ways, is it's own form of motivation
whether distinctly articulated - this source of inspiration- or whether the quality of inspiration is subtler via " love,"
. . . what?

fear, maybe - moreso a fear of abandonment, or superficiality?
how about hunger or longing?
intuition?

emotions easily capable of inspiring a person

and all of these emotions creditable (although i know not where i get off accounting these particular emotions as "creditable," i just know them as ones with which i am familiar)

if one harbors a fear of being used?
- or better yet, being forgotten -
one will pull out creative resources to express, cope with, or distance themselves from, this fear.

no one likes these feeling rising within themselves,
that uncomfortable feeling of fear and dread (and familiarity/nostalgia)
in the pit of their stomach
and will therefore find someway to release this feeling.
even if only temporarily.

and if feelings are both a motivating factor and a by product of an activity, is one not inspired?

who said that inspiration had to be pure?
honest, and balck and white?
or even understandable...i for one do not try to accuse any one aspect of my life of inspiration until after it has been spent,
until after i re-asses the "final product", after a healthy deal of space from said product, be it poetry, choreography etct, (for clear assesment, and an almost-but-not-quite-objective eye of revision... and such)

is it really important where it comes from?
sure, if you are looking to harness it...draw from it repeaditly or recreate its effect...then yes it is important to recgonize inspiration's source.

i for one am struggling to pinpoint my current reason for this surge in what i fear maybe superficial, catalysitc inspiration.

yes,
moments were shared
yes if i were any less jaded a person
i would be reliving them in my mind
marveling at my luck
and watching my hopes stack to the ceiling,
but as is the case, i am trying to rationalize these events and their consiquental poetic and emotional byproducts.

are we all just looking for a muse?
trying to find inspiration along with ourselves.
just solving internal mysteries and chasing internal ghosts?
crossing lines, and graying areas. . . ?

it's hard to say
and how will we ever know?

your illusion, my distraction

you see a muse,
i feel a siren
selfish, through the motions
touch me here
write a symphony
wrap yourself around me
hear me breaking
hollow, pure craving
whisper these words
eeeri and shallow
blow them through my ears.
hear yourself sing every verse
soft, breathless, greedy
find me when your empty
to kiss this monster i'm creating
fatal and inspiring
i'll set you afire
come closer and breath me in
(a) poisonus, interanal mirror

the fullness of nothing

so i finished The Toa of Pooh,
and i decided that the principles of toaism are refreshing,
as any good book on a such a topic is supposed to make you think.

but as i was reading,
i was thinking (as anyone who is reading for comprehension does)
- i feel like i have a propensity to state the obvious today-
so i was thinking,
if you apply the thought processes of toaism
to things that happened in the past
-specificly to mistakes you have made, or choices you made that you now see as mistakes -
if you really think about it and apply these principles,
you can't help but feel better about these choices,
feel that perhaps they served a purpose.

in deciding on these "mistakes" purposes you are forced to reanylize your past actions,
revisit any form of guilt or anger you felt toward them
look upon them with fresh eyes.

any faith/beliefe that is forcing you to do that,
is serving it's purpose,
if you learn something - which you are bound to do looking at the past, what with hindsight and all - guilt will be relayed, or atleast rationalized, shrunken from the monster it has grown into in your subconsious, maybe they are not so much mistakes as they are paths, experiances, choices and consiquences which you realize now you have grown from.

profound, but it makes sense.
and any faith or life practice that stabalizes the subconsious, is serving a purpose,
it's like relgion by psychology.
interesting, and rationalizing.
one thing leads to another.

i keep marvaling at it profundancy.
but then again, isn't everthing profound at its core.

it just depends on your outlook.
hmmmm.

see you next sunday

upon the enthusiasm of a friend, i picked up a novel concering taoism. (and winnie the pooh)
i'm hold no great convicition to any one religion yet, as i find such beliefs to be ones procesed through living and learning.

i find that i envy those who have
such passionate conviction
in one faith, but i feel to be fair to myself, i have many avenues to explore,
many thoughts to recover and beliefs to process.

the stronger ones conviction in ones self
the more one will believe in whatever he chooses.
atleast that is how i have always loooked at it.

what better place to start than yourself, and
my decision has been to start this tight rope walk of faith
by figuring outmyself first
before i devote myself to a black and white picture, if that is what i find
i have my beliefs and i have my doubts.

this is all irrelevant.
lets back up...
i was reading on taoism, expanding my horizons, and i found this concept to make alot of sense:

maybe people are afraid of emptiness
however,
because it reminds them
of lonliness.

it seemed to fit with my present feelings
the surge of abandonment one falls prey too when
everyone around them disapears.
parts ways.
walks away.

in a fight with inner numbness, longing
it is so easy to feel empty, hollow
and just across the fine line is loneliness.

this reading embarked on a method
that enabled one to feed on the emptiness
"find the fullness of nothing"
an interesting and self absorbing concept.

but nonethe less it is one more road map
to lead you closer to yourself
and i am willing to give it a second look.
atleast re-read the words, take them in.

no harm in that.

i'm still processing this reading
and taking what i can from it
but i found that concept profound, and almost comforting.

like a welcome mat, a broken blender

upon the guidelined ciriculum of a class assignment i've opend The Things They Carried,
i highly recomend it, beautiful war novel compesed by the memories of one Ti m O'Brien,
this is no student scorned entry,
more one of self realization.

it is amazing to me the depth and poetic qualitity of this mans tone,
in his writing, those niave to the burdens and quite hunger of combat are given a glimpse at the rawness of war,
and the emotional casualities soilders suffer upon comming home.

i know that it will be impossible to ever simulate
or feel what they feel
i will never go into battle
i will never lack in convitction or beliefe in something i am forced to fight for,
not on that grand of a scale
i will never kill, see death so detructive, so horrific,
war and all of its deamons will never be something i look upon or feel

and no one can ever do it poetic justice
no outsider, no one who has just been a bystander

yet, it fascinates me.
wars poetic and destructive quality
how it bares upon the human soul

i will never experiance the emotional termoil of war
but i want to understand it,
what triggers it, how to save someone from it.

not even save them - because part of war is the after nightmare.
without it, war would loose it's cognitive signifigance on human beings,
no emotional casualty, no moral bankrupcy?
no second thought at declaring war,
all of this i realize,

but i want to understand these emotions
where they come from
how they can be used productively
how they can be expressed, used,

and if i can not feel them
i want to understand them

i want to be near these broken people
the ones who know more and bare more than they ever should
i want to understand them, not for selfish curiosity
but so i can help them, relieve even the smalles ounce of their pain.

be a crutch to lean on.
"because wether you can see it or not it's a world full of crutches..."

and i believe that this is a large part in my desire to persue a carreer in psychology,
helping people through understanding them
through learning how an induvidual works
discovering their walls, their grey areas, their pain
and helping to relieve it,

that is what i am drawn too
and what i feel i would be good at.

this project started as rudementairy class work
interseting but not all to revieling
a paper or two, the bases of a few thesis,
another superficail language cake walk
(as fomulaic and abstract essays/analysis seem to come easy to me )

as it happens, it will be more
and i for one could not be more pleased,

one should be inspired by their material
making it mailiable to their specific person
and i've found it.
atleast for the 1st semester.

suprise.

it's about dying nine times

we all face goodbye, by virtue we face alot of them,
it seems as though human nature would have you steal away
from goodbye, from a meager form of abandonment, or isolation
whatever the case may be.

with every car that pulls away,
ever back that is turned
one is lulled into a sense of numbness,
a comfort in the inevitable, and an anxiousness at it's arrival.

it is strange how you dread a final meeting
but ache for it at the same instant
because the anticipation is almost worse

and then, this "goodbye" this "burning of the bridge," "closing the book," these cheesy cliches,
once they happen, or are happening,
i find myself realing in how anitclimactic they are

how i am handling this well,
holding myself in with little effort,
no tears, no anger, no raw emotion of any kind,
just a dull sense of going through the motions

i put this off to anticipation, preparedness for the arrival of goodbye
but what if in all the preperation, anticipation, you numbed yourself to reality?
built a little wall, made alittle line that you refused to subconsiously cross.

amazing, the subconsious, how it keeps us safe
because would it not be human nature to steal away from abandonment,
sure it would,
and that, in the modern day and age of friendly and romantic relations, is how it is done.

sure your brain registers that this should be painful,
but how much are you feeling this raw emotion and how much are you just simulating it,
because you know that is how it should be,

and it's not that you don't want to feel it,
or that you don't
you have just closed off that part of you
to save face, to show no voulnerability,
again, human nature?
most likely.

but then it hits you
two days, two years, two months later...it hits you.
all of a sudden your emotions, your tear ducts, your subconsious, catch up with your brain, with reality.

and you can't stop
the involuntairy waves of emotions
the ones you cheated with half smiles, and phone calls,
everything pales in comparison to that utter sense of loss.

it's falling prey to self pity when you let your gaurd down
because it is not worth pretending to yourself that you are strong
not any more.

all of its there, where no one can see it
and i for one was relieved, because for a while i thought
that it wasn't right that i didn't feel
i was numb, the numbness was predictable,
but when it didn't go away,
when the emotions that fell out of me were not picked up, when the hunger briefly subsided, i was confused

"shouldn't you be feeling something more, something real, tangiable."

and i should have
and i do.

it hit me,
a song
your voice
- - or lack there of as it were

it hit me in a rush
emotional whip lash

i had stopped dreading it
knew it had to come
and it did

i'm back where i started
only this time, there is nothing familiar around me

i guess this is what it is all about
sure.
this is moving forward.

what a concept.
what a profound and consiquently abstract concept.

maybe i overthink things
maybe to compincate for what i am afraid to feel
or afraind that i don't feel.

"i'm still an asshole playing with matches,
he's just not around to play
along."

yeah, that's the tune....