It's really just for me

I've been trying to write more lately and this seems like as good as place as any. The majority of my writing lately has consisted of sustaining my fucked up sense of love. My failing inadequacies as they become more apparent and persist in a way that I cannot change...or will not I suppose. Anyway, I'm breaking from that mode. Tonight, I'm thinking about the state of things and how we have as a society and world really broken away from the past. My thoughts come in waves and I reflect on earlier thoughts. This way that we are really not condemned to repeat the past as an ideal is so flawed. Nothing is new and that is why I am so damn bored! I'm sick of the punk on the corner without any idea of where his angst should be coming from. No idea where his style originates and how he is responsible for pushing it to where it is now. I know I'm sounding like some old fuck whining about changes. I'm not. I'm always aware of changes and I usually embrace them as they propel us into something new. This is not the case right now. We don't care and the apathy is growing. It's overtaking us and it's overwhelming. As a collective body, we as people are coming into something dangerous. We don't care anymore. We can't keep up with the atrocities and have no real control anyway. Write your congressman. Fuck your congressman! When you hate your president, how is your congress going to change anything? I feel this general malaise that shadows everything I see or hear. I don't think I'm alone. Obama is one good conquest but it's still on the same destructive path. I hear every optimistic thought coming at me right now because that's what they should be doing. I'm no longer optimistic. The malaise is like the ether. The "stuff" that just exists. It's woven itself into everything. A general distrust. A failure in ability to act and make a real difference. The repetitious art that is drawing from the past and not pushing forward. Playing into our emotions because that's all that is left. We need to feel good because we can't look outside without knowing it's disgusting. I really hope I'm wrong about all this and it's just me in my corner watching with a fucked up and out of touch perception of things. I really doubt it. Fuck, the art is still happening. It still inspires me but I really have to search for it. There's so much bullshit out there. I guess it's the fucking value being associated with art. If it's really great, it's instantly turned into a marketing tool. Music becomes a commercial. Visual art is associated with whatever brand. Collaboration is a bad word. It doesn't stand on its own and the starving artist is quickly learning how to make money. I'm not saying it's wrong. I'm just saying I don't like it. Nothing is autonomous. It's all woven together into the malaise and the capitalist ideal is making it worse. It's time for bed. I'll wake up tomorrow and it'll be a little bit worse. Just like yesterday. Just like last year and the year before. I'm really hoping that the day will come when it's a little bit better. I haven't seen one of those days in so long. But I really am hoping, for all of us, that they day will come when I wake up and it's a little bit brighter.

Love and Truth

I really don't know how I want to start this. That all too familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach. While Driving home, I was thinking about how the words would fit together to describe what is happening to me but it just isn't working that way. I'm at a point right now where I don't want to reveal anything to anyone. I want to wallow in self pity and self disgust. I want to stare into the mirror and question my validity as a human being. To reflect on the whole of humanity and question any relation one person has to another. To feel this archetype of a siren and a serpent. To realize some truth so this could never happen again. But that would not be correct. This won't be the last time. This bipolar outcome of the quest for what I was feeling not so long ago. That just amplifies where I am now. Questioning as always because that's what I do. Somehow, this image of woman is in my brain. It's cloudy and the figure is dark. That feeling which I have felt for so long. That feeling in all of us. The one you can't describe and yet drives you to long for the other side of this outcome. To dream that after the enamored feeling subsides that the final sustainable feeling will reflect that place that I long for. As I sit here, thinking about what could have been, and know what will never be, I am learning. This time I put both feet in and committed in the way I never do. Maybe it's because I knew it would fail. I'm thinking that is probably the case. And now the pieces are scattered. I've learned how my emotions boil my actions into sometimes what seem to be the unthinkable. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that all of this must be. I also know how I need to trust my instincts because they are very correct. And now, I know this is the best outcome because I really see the truth. This truth is dangerous and I don't use that word lightly. The dream is there in my mind on a pedestal. This day I learned that love does not conquer all. And yet again, the search will continue for that sustaining point. The real problem is that this time my feeling would have sustained. My attraction would have endured. And the dream could actually be realized. Now it's gone.

Pluto is almost gone and I don't want to be stuck for 14 fucking years

It's all fun right? This life as we work and live. As we write in two syllable words to try and connect with one another. To dumb down our mentality and try and persevere in an environment determined to break us down or kill us. So, this week is an important for me. I have this fire inside me that won't back down. I'm sitting here writing after a 14 hour day and am so flooded that it's ridiculous. I'm trying to determine what I really want to do right now. What I really need most of all. I'm looking and evaluating my decisions and what I know I must do in the future. It all sounds so fucking dramatic. The point is that the only way I live is to be dramatic. I annoy the fuck out of some people to the point that they hate me. Some people annoy me in the same way I suppose. I write this shit to get it out of me. I always feel that somehow I'm better. That somehow I don't fit into the same mold as those around me. Maybe one day I'll learn that this idea is not the truth. I haven't learned it yet though. With each passing day, I feel that I become more distant from those around me. I can't see myself doing what they do or thinking how they think. I can't just go along and not see how uncomfortable people are in general. How they are constantly judging each other to avoid being evaluated because they already feel they are better. I'm going back to what I said before about how I don't fit into that mold really. I really don't feel I'm any better but I do feel very different. I really don't care about this world and I truly believe it's lost beyond the point of repair. There is no going back anymore. I look outside and it just doesn't feel like it used to feel. I look at the art and music and understand the future. It's a looking glass and always has and will be that way. I've given up on it. My angst is gone and it's turned to a general disconcerting feeling. This might turn into a novel as my typing skills have improved and I really don't feel like stopping. Relationships are tainted and the older I get the worse they get. Just add and worsen. Add and fail. Add and hurt. Cheery isn't it? Trying to develop some emotional state that is functional but it just doesn't happen. It's always too heightened. I always think too much. I never stop. From the time I get up it's a constant worry. Sometimes 10. They don't go away. They just get replaced. Am I alone in this? Seems like people deal with this in a normal way. I don't dream anymore and I believe that is my fault. Fuck Rogue Wave is so damn good! It's nearing midnight. Could really be hell. How can I tell the difference? I'm getting worse living here and it's time to leave. I have no idea how long it will take me to return to normal or if that time is gone. I am motivated more now than any other time in my life. I have confidence. I know my worth. I also am finally figuring out what I want out of this life. It's something I have always known and denied. But I would have never figured it out without shedding all my comforts. I have no one here. No one I can trust. No one I can rely on to help me no matter what. That is a horrible feeling. I've always been around a few of those people because I'm one of those fucking people! Even here I am. I've been taken advantage of so much and learned that I can't let that continue to happen. You can't be that kind of person without those people around you. People end up knowing they can rely on you when they can't even rely on themselves. They wouldn't do it for you but they're happy taking it. They delude themselves by thinking somehow the small things they do that doesn't take anything is somehow equal. I've stayed up so many nights and forsaken plans because they needed me to do it. I'm sick of fucking do it! You don't deserve it. That is why I have to leave. These people don't deserve me anymore. Time to sleep and not dream so I can get up and start it over. Another 15 hour day to build a company, finish a website, help some friends, help push a film, and try and salvage a relationship.

Fuck

Just wanted to put something together from my mass of media that I'm too busy to touch.

I'm missing home right now so much I can barely stand it. This always makes me feel better. It's the view at my parents house in the country.

Photoshop Is The Devil's Tool

Sometimes

I need to write but it all seems like garbage right now. Like the textbook (not literally) writer who is throwing away reams of paper because they can't start something of worth. They write and throw away. That sums up today and how I feel about my general state of being. It's not worth starting. One has to be sick of reading my madness. I over think everything and things linger for too long. My distractions are the only things that keep me sane. I have no idea how one can live without distraction. There are those who can but it seems that their focus determines their whole lives. Instead of distraction, they live for that end. Disregard a normal life and substitute one for another. It's a rule for me that I have to live this life. I have to make mistakes and I have to forsake my safety for this lust for knowledge and experience. I feel like I'm aging at an amazing pace and pretty soon it's all going to be over. When it's over, I want to feel like I tried. No matter how I feel in general, and it's not good, I want to feel satisfied that I did everything I could do. That I tried to push this weight...up. Friends who are distant. Life that is forsaken. It's really time for change. A miserable life is not what I want. A hard life is what I definitely want.