Uninspired

I've joined the "work force". I got myself a (supposed) 9 to 5 job that basically takes up over 15 hours of my day which means that when I get home I basically have a bowl of soup, kiss my son goodnight and pass out on my bed. Some nights I don't even get under the covers. Other nights I stare at the ceiling asking myself over and over "what the fuck am I doing?" and I answer myself that I am doing what "regular" people do. Then I start thinking how insane it is that I spend 2 hours on the road to go to and from work to do a job that basically has me dealing with stupid little problems and petty little people who feel like they're entitled to everything and that sort of like have sticks rammed right up their asses. I can't stand it! But honestly... I don't have the energy to do anything else. This is comfortable for now and I'm not too bad at it. When I get to that real breaking point I'll just quit and stay home and plant shit. I'll go agricultural all up in this bitch.

As for love... well... if I don't have time to write and let you all know what's up I certainly don't have any time to fall head over heels. I don't even have time to look at someone twice. I have no time. For anything. Not even for myself. I have re-discovered The Magnetic Fields and has I sat here listening to their box-set album 69 love songs I couldn't help but thinking how negligent I've been with my blog - something that I used to love doing. But I've felt so uninspired and stressed out lately (ever since I started working - since April, actually - wow! has it been that long?) that I haven't found the energy, drive or will to write. It sort of feels like the poetry in me has been sucked out of me like someone sucks marrow from a bone; it feels like the poetry withing me has died. Ironically, I'm just now listening to the track "I think I need a new heart" which is so appropriate for what I am just writing. And the track after that one is "book of love" which will make me cry. Why? Because I've never had anything like what is described in the song - no one reading to me, or singing to me. Such a simple song...I think that simplicity is what I love the most about any type of art. Even though the beauty of the song moved me I am still not able to find the right words to express all that I am feeling.

Depression - let's talk about that for a bit. I have it - most people have it. Those who don't have it, don't understand it. They think that depression is the same as being sad. It isn't. You can be depressed and still smile and laugh. You can be sad and not be depressed. You can be depressed and sad at the same time but they're definitely not the same. Sadness is a feeling that is brought upon by some event or whatever it is you're experiencing. Depression... it's like a ghost haunting you. It stick to you like crazy glue until it becomes part of your being and it's part of your genetic make-up. You can't escape it and you certainly can't pretend it's not there. Sometimes it's so crippling all you do is try hard to find the strength not to end your life. It's not about finding the will to get out of bed - it's about finding the will not to end it all. It's about thinking about everyone around you and how your absence would affect them. It's not about me anymore. I'm not living anymore. I'm a walking corpse. I live because I have to. I can't let my family down, they need me. And even though they have no idea that I'm feeling this way and when I try to talk to them about it they come up with the same story: just be happy! Oh, if it only were that simple... No one chooses to be depressed. It's not a fucking choice! Why can't anyone understand it? Sometimes I catch myself screaming so loud inside my head - but all around me there's only silence. I dream of a day I'll be able to overcome all of this and feel like the darkness inside me has dissipated but for now... it's not a choice. And although I find some measure of joy in small things around me and in my son, I am still depressed. I cry myself to sleep each night and I don't even know why I'm crying - I'm not sad but the tears won't stop falling down my face and that feeling of despair doesn't go away - it's always there, like a ghost in the back of my head waiting for the most inappropriate moments to jump out and scare the shit out of me and everyone around me. People stare at me like I'm crazy - I've gotten used to it. But it still does hurt. Why do people think that "crazy" and "stupid" are the same? I don't think I'm sane... but I also don't think of myself as being insane. But one thing you can be sure of - I'm definitely not stupid. So why is it that some people are so fucking patronizing and talk to me like I'm slow or like I'm an idiot? Sometimes I feel like kicking the living shit out of those type of people. Not because I feel insulted but because I know they'll treat other people like that and it's fucking ridiculous. But I ramble now... About this whole depression thing... I don't want to talk more about it. Let's put that subject in the "later" drawer.

The only thing I can think of right now is that romance is dead and I'll die alone. Not alone, I'll have my sister and a whole bunch of cats. But basically, all I ever wanted is the one thing I'll never have - true love.

Even if

I don't know what to do with myself. I don't know where to go either. These past few years feel a lot like a car wreck you see on TV in slow motion and you can analyze every detail of what's going on but you can't stop it or avoid it. You can only see it happening. You have no influence on any of it because it's like it already happened but you relive it every day like a nightmare... a waking nightmare. That's what the past few years have felt like. And now that I am going in a different direction I'm a bit scared that it's not actually a different direction but a whole new nightmare taking hold. I don't want to let the panic seep in but it's sort of unavoidable. I can't help but think of all the things that could go wrong. Typical me - thinking of what could go wrong and never thinking of what could be awesome. Even if awesome hit me in the face I'm still thinking of what could go wrong next. Even if I'm content I still think of a thousand ways I could easily slip and fall into misery. Even if people tell me I'm doing okay I'm still thinking I'm useless. Even when I think that things might turn around I'm still thinking that it's bullshit, that things will never really work out for me in the end. Why the fuck am I so annoyingly defeatist? Why can't I just carpe diem like most people and suck all the marrow out of life?

My life has been pretty uneventful lately. I go to work, I get off work, I come home. Pretty straightforward and boring. I'm used to boring. I enjoy boring. There was a time that boring was just boring. But now, boring is comfortable and safe. Boring is a step closer to perfection. I'm so perfectly boring I even spaced out for a few moments thinking about all kinds of different ways to spend a boring afternoon. I know you're wondering if I feel lonely... I do. I won't deny it. But it's better to be alone than with the wrong person. So I steer clear of those now and in the future I need to be absolutely sure that the other person is actually a right person and not a complete fucking psycho. As I think this - in a sort of inner monologue style - I'm listening to Veruca Salt looking out my window. So many flickering distant lights... I wonder how many other people are having similar inner monologues and how many are heartbroken. I wonder how many are listening to music, like I am, and reflecting on such happenings of their daily life. I wonder how many are looking out their window wondering the same as I am. I wonder how many are looking for that one true love that will set them on fire and consume them (but in a good way). The other day I was driving home from work and thinking about just that... how before love was urgent, a sort of fire that had to be put out. And I don't think that was actually love. It was a sort of itch that needed scratching. So I guess it's safe to say that it was heated passion binded by lust. Love isn't fleeting... it grows stronger each day. I assume it does. I'm not really sure what it's all about. I mean... so many writers have tried to nail that one down and we still have no idea how to describe it. Mostly because I think that it hits people in different ways... maybe it has something to do with the soul. There aren't two souls alike. There might be kindred souls or soulmates. People that complete each other like the two halves that walk the earth looking for each other - that sort of thing. And those might walk by each other down the street and have some sort of magnetic connection or spark. But not act on it... then what? Even if they do have that spark or whatever they just walked on because... well... life. Life happens way too fast. People are always way too caught up with... I don't even know. All the crap they deal with everyday. They don't stop to appreciate what's going on around them. And that's kind of sad. But even if I stop to watch life happening around me I feel utterly alone. Because it's like I'm on pause in a sea of blurred faces fast forwarding around me.

New York

the love we deserve

No Regrets At All

When the rain started falling
I was sitting quietly in my chair
nursing an illness that took hold
and wouldn't let go easily
I heard the sound of rain
and I closed my tired eyes
so that I could listen to it's sweet sound
drip, drip, drip on my window
washing away all that is old
bringing back my voice again
drowning out all of my weary sighs
drip, drop on the hard dry ground
it's sound a distant calling
why do I love the rain so much?
If I weren't this ill I'd run out
and dance in it until I was soaked
with my huge voice I would shout
I would shut my eyes and face up at the dark sky
so that I might feel it running down my face
filled with grace and without a hint of lie
Then I would silently walk back inside
and peel off my wet clothes
toss them aside
crawl into bed and dream all the dreams
that I have never dreamed before
But what I dream of most these days
is everything no one else looks for
it's what everyone runs from
no one wants any and I would kill for some
But I will not dare speak it
I will never say it out loud
I will just stand still in a crowd
hoping to be seen, to be felt
longing for the rain to fall once more
like it did today and like it did before
like it will always fall when I least expect it
drip, drip on my window
drip, drop on the hard dry ground
like tears running down my face
the rain masks the tears running down my face
and that being the case
some might wonder why, some might not care
why I sit quietly in my chair
this night nursing myself back to health
listening to the wind outside
whisper their names
like a lover once whispered in my ear:
"Let go of your fear"
And so let go I did and I loved
then I didn't anymore. I just felt pain
Love had left me as did the passionate whispers
They were gone never to come back again
So today I sit in this chair
Listening to the rain outside fall
Thinking of different times, a different life
but not regretting anything at all.

welcome to society

respiratory tract infection

Voice trapped in throat
Lungs set on fire
By a never ending cough
A sore body lying
Perfectly still
That's how I've been I'll.
Eyes closed. Sleep.
Eyes open. Weep.
Mouth opens. Nothing...
No sound. Not even a whisper.
Days spent sipping tea
Days as long as years
There was an eclipse I didn't see
Seems like I miss everything...

My Fate

My fate has been raped
Over and over... Again and again
By chance and circumstance.
My fate is broken
Traumatized beyond belief
Without hope or any kind of relief.
It's voice taken
snatchet in an instant
by the foulest of thieves
A heart that grieves
what has yet to come
what might seem auspicious to some
A heart that desires
what has been
passion fueled fires
that used to burn within
But my fate is not my own
it is hallowed and disgraced
by chance unknown
and circumstance unclear
My fate has been raped
and left bloodied on the floor
nothing will ever be as before.
My fate has been raped
by chance and circumstance
while I quietly slept.
It's the only secret I ever kept...

Now what?

What happens when you realize your best days are behind you? Do you freak out? Do you shake it off and tell yourself it's bullshit and go out and do the craziest shit you can think of to prove to yourself that all days will be awesome? Do you roll up in a ball and cry? Do you just sit there gazing at a flickering cursor wondering what to write next? Do you ask yourself: "now what?"

I want to believe that there is no such thing as glory days but sometimes I catch myself reminiscing and I smile. Sometimes I catch myself thinking or wishing that I could go back and change a few things or do some of it differently. Sometimes, when I talk with my sister about the person I used to be, I can hardly recognize myself in all the stories we talk about. I don't see myself as a fierce young sharp devil ready to party all night long. Have I really changed that much? The answer is yes. I have changed that much. I hate partying all night long. Heck! I hate partying. I actually think I hate parties. I am not fierce or young anymore although I am still sharp and there is still a bit of a devil in me. I am just not the same person and sometimes it's hard for me and for other people who knew me before to understand how or why I changed. If you were to ask me... I would have to answer: "I have no friggin' clue!" Life choices? I don't know... Stuff, I guess.

I am working on a new poem but it's taking a while to birth it all the way through. It's a process. A long, hard process. Eventually I'll finish it. And it won't be good. But it'll be a first step to getting my writing mojo back. Hopefully... Yeah... Even if all I write is crap until the day I die, I'll be happy because I'm writing. If someone were to jump through my window and break my hands I'd be a wreak. So... yeah... Geez! I don't really have much to say... I've been in bed since Friday trying to recuperate from a nasty lung infection (damn pine tree dust). Figures I'd be allergic to the mountain's fresh air... Well... I'm all patched up and ready to get my ass back into gear.

I'll be going back to work tomorrow. It's not my dream job but I have to be realistic and accept that I'm too old to get my dream job. Especially in this fucking country where everyone is fucking corrupt and on the take. So... I'll just settle in to this job and hopefully I can make it there. The people there are super awesome and that's like... one of the main reasons for me to stick around. The actual work is sometimes stressful and sometimes rewarding. It's a 50/50 thing. I know it'll grow on me. It just pisses me off that this country does not give art a chance. Oh well... I'll keep on doing it on the side during my time off. I tell myself this but in truth I haven't done much for art's sake. I'm ashamed to admit it but... it's the truth. I spent the day researching recipes for a St. Patty's cake. Tomorrow... we bake! Yeah... I know what you're thinking... "pot brownies". But no... none of that. Maybe I'll post a picture of my "masterpiece" on here if it doesn't look too gross. Yeah... I'm not much of a baker. I can cook up a storm but baking cakes or cookies is definitely not my thing. I also don't have a sweet-tooth.

Wow. I'm all over the place. I don't even remember what I was thinking about when I started this post. I guess the notion of "now what?" kind of freaked me out a bit and I just rambled. Rambling is good sometimes. You get the chance to "throw" all your inner "stuff" out there. Sort of like exorcising demons. And believe me, I have plenty of those in need of exorcising. As for the "now what?" thing... just close your eyes, breathe, listen to some nice music and relax. Tomorrow is a whole new day.

Being ill on Friday the 13th

Another lung infection hit me like a ton of bricks. I woke up at 3 am with a nasty sore throat. I could barely swallow. I was in pain... It felt like I had an elephant sitting on my chest. I could barely breathe. A cough took over and I had to run to the bathroom where I threw up a couple of times. My throat was getting worse. It felt like I had a fiery cotton ball stuck in my throat. I felt like crap. I washed my face with ice cold water. I grabbed hold of my bathroom sink and looked in the mirror while water dripped down my face. I'm not quite sure if it was actually water or sweat. I felt like I would die but that's just the hipochondriac in me. I took some pills and went back to bed. I couldn't sleep. I stared at the ceiling and watched as the lights seem to dance around. I heard the church bell toll 4. And then 5. Then 6. At 7 the alarm went off. I was still feeling like crap but I slowly got out of bed. I was standing for a few seconds and had to run back to bathroom and threw up again. I thought that I would feel better while I drove to work so I just stuck to my routine and drove to work.I felt worse. I talked with my supervisor and HR and explained how I was feeling. Theytold me that I should go home and that my health was more important. For the first time in my life I felt like a person. Actual human beings wanted me to get better and weren'thoping for my demise. It felt like I mattered. It meant a lot. I drove back home and went in to see the doctor. I went in to the centre where I usually go and just my luck! Doctors were on strike. The clerk seemed way to happy about it and told me I would have to go somewhere else. I lost it and called her a fucking asshole because I could see doctors walking in the background. I know I wear glasses but I'm not blind. She just wanted to make my life hell. I walked down the stairs and found a doctor and I was now hyperventilating or whatever. I was having a total meltdown. So he calmed me down and told him what had just happened. He got a nurse and she took me back up in an elevator and I got a doctor to look at me. The doctor was absolutely awesome. He prescribed everything I needed and set up a lung exam which will be scheduled soon. Hopefully. I need to get this into check. I can't be sick all the time.

And so now I'm in bed nursing myself back to health looking out the window watching the sun shine and wondering why do crappy things always happen to me on Friday the 13th.