Without pomp or excessive celebration I, your humble narrator, do proudly and graciously present the 2009 XMAS LIST OF DEATH!!
1. Nasty breakup with my semi-girlfriend
2. Friends aunt dies
3. Friends wife has a brain-tumor
4. Friends father has a brain tumor
5. Friends car gets broken into, stereo destroyed.
6. 2 relatives of co-workers slip into comas within a week of each other.
7. the worst headache of my life decides to hang around for a week and a half (still going)
8. Friends retina detaches and initial surgery does not fix the problem.
9. 2 coworkers' sisters die this week.
there's more but it's all slipped my mind.
happy holidays everybody.
12.24.2009
12.17.2009
things
He drives around in a daze. Head a whirlwind.
Music plays; his favorite bands but he feels only mild annoyance
at the distraction proving not good enough.
He shops for christmas, buying gifts for loved ones with
neither joy nor excitement.
He dreads the day.
I pull hard on my nth-too-many cigarette. Look towards mountains
nearly obscured by smog.
He wants to feel.
Stare into oblivion. My head is pounding again.
I dream of finding a purpose to something, anything.
He is an automaton.
I reach out to the void because there's no-one left to save me.
never really was.
no reason to continue, beyond fear of death and some middling sense
of social responsibility.
I grasp at straws.
he grasps at straws,
And I come up empty-handed.
I think to reach out to friends and realize that most are gone,
or so removed i can't share myself
-or he just plain doesn't want to see them.
Run my finger over the smooth surfaces seeking electricity.
nothing.
I feel dead. Don't know what moves my muscles.
-some instinctive drive to perservere maybe?
the wildcate side fighting to surface?
He feels a fleeting moment of joy as he drops off a carful of
gifts he organized, and a half-grand to a childrens shelter
-only to be crushed upon leaving.
crushed at the thought I can't share this with her.
and it's always her.
In my fucked up head. on my fucked up mind.
can't shake this great loss.
For all the bad, my love for her was unmitigated, pure,
and fiercer than ever previous.
He left her.
He couldn't take her abuse anymore.
But i still love her.
And my life is meaningless without her.
And if there were anyone to, they'd tell me it'll pass,
just give it time.
he tried to tell himself that too
but this time feels different.
Worse than my worst breakup
worse than the most agonizing heartbreak of his life
-and he's had a few.
this time he doesn't care about feeling better.
this time he moves on rails.
and in my musings on trying to feel
i'm still not seeking redmption,
merely a temporary distraction. a single crest in
the wave of my forward motion.
This feels like eternity,
like my agony is a frozen frame of a bad movie.
Doomed to flicker and eventually burn through into emptiness.
'Dear god,' I think
'I want my money back'
and my wasted time.
I want to give up on everything.
but this shell keeps moving.
these lungs still painfully intake air
and then exhale.
my heart feels broken. I literally feel the clasp of a fist
around it lately.
but somehow the bastard still beats,
if only out of spite for me.
My head still processes just enough for me to mime my way through
social interactions.
-but in private it pounds so bad he can't even see straight.
he sleeps little, and fitfully.
what are dark circles under most peoples eyes become whiter
patches in mine
-symbol of health
The body still grows and tightens and, in proper lighting, begins to look
like that of a warrior.
and all he wants to do is grind it to burger.
feed it back to the earth.
But the earth turns fine without it.
He longs to disappear.
to sleep, perchance to dream.
...and all that bullshit.
He thinks he hides it well
but everyone keeps asking if i'm ok.
People who know peeople who know someone who knows me
->keep asking if i'm ok.
3rd party worry. concern by-proxy.
such a strange thing.
he feels infected and volitile
But in reality I'm just sad.
.and lonely.
.and tired of this life i find myself in.
every day I feel myself slipping deeper under this sea of melancholy.
I can't even see the shimmer of the surface anymore.
..
.I don't even want to.
Now it's later, Night.
Loneliness coagulates around me, though i'm surrounded by people.
Despair becomes all-encompassing.
I leave my safe haven.
for alcohol.
for something to numb my throbbing existence.
buy a bottle. for myself.
-and it's you and me and a bottle makes three tonight.
..only there is no you.
-only me.
Hate the holidays with a seething passion.
hate the disaster it introduces in my life.
he drives, accidentally (subconsciously?) passing landmarks; ghosts.
I wince physically at the flashes of imagery.
I write in a smile and a tired embrace.
fill lives with terror and sorrow
-on paper.
I punish my characters for the iniquities of my tangible world.
sometimes i feel sorry for them.
thought: now i'm writing fluid, stream-of-conscious.
that thought, however, destroys its revelation.
now i'm consciously thinking about unconsciously writing.
water and oil.
osmotic oppression as metaphor for my head.
where is my mind-where is my mind
where am I?
why isn't it time for whiskey yet?
I am Pavolovs' alcoholic dog
and happily so.
From the dawn of man there has been unhappiness and confusion
and through all of it man has sought to numb it.
We ferment, we fuck, we kill, pray, risk, dream, create, annihlate.
we are seekers who feel we've unlocked the universe on godly beautiful
quantum and physic levels.
we turn to science or god for alpha and omega
and we're still as clueless as the protoplasmic morass
that formed this consciousness.
consciousness: mans great gift?
the worst curse ever inflicted on anything.
Rocks rend, trees wither, water freezes, evaporates, condenses, bonds and splits
all without this idea; awareness.
and all through sane machinations.
that pedestal we claim is a holocaust.
I was born; of this i am fairly certain.
but what am i?
atoms formed into molecules formed into larger and larger
conglomerate systems.
What great work is man?
Give a man too much sodium and his 'personality' changes.
give him too much water, or too little, and he dies.
destroy a few cells and he has no memory.
All we are is a great number of complex interactions and we, as our components,
are part of greater unseen systems.
I am an amino acid in a cell broken down and reused
-not a beautiful and unique snowflake.
-or so it goes.
He smiles at a friend but doesn't mean it.
He grits his teeth.
I wash myself in copious amounts of nicotine and caffiene in the meantime.
I smoke.
I attack my primary mode of survival multiple times daily.
I autolyse.
But what function have i ever performed?
Such juvenile thoughts I have.
what are we? why are we?
like a highschool doper trying for deep affect
I ponder these pointless things.
Break me down.
Had a forgotten nightmare last night during my few hours of shutdown time.
woke up dizzy.
vertigo defines me. envelops me. destroys me.
He glances at his phone, realizes he's waiting for a call he know won't come.
a casual conversation ensues.
and she comes up.
his chin quivers and his eyes gel instantly.
-the friend beats a hasty exit
and he wants to die a little more.
I am awash with the urge to flee, run, escape...
--but to where?
Music plays; his favorite bands but he feels only mild annoyance
at the distraction proving not good enough.
He shops for christmas, buying gifts for loved ones with
neither joy nor excitement.
He dreads the day.
I pull hard on my nth-too-many cigarette. Look towards mountains
nearly obscured by smog.
He wants to feel.
Stare into oblivion. My head is pounding again.
I dream of finding a purpose to something, anything.
He is an automaton.
I reach out to the void because there's no-one left to save me.
never really was.
no reason to continue, beyond fear of death and some middling sense
of social responsibility.
I grasp at straws.
he grasps at straws,
And I come up empty-handed.
I think to reach out to friends and realize that most are gone,
or so removed i can't share myself
-or he just plain doesn't want to see them.
Run my finger over the smooth surfaces seeking electricity.
nothing.
I feel dead. Don't know what moves my muscles.
-some instinctive drive to perservere maybe?
the wildcate side fighting to surface?
He feels a fleeting moment of joy as he drops off a carful of
gifts he organized, and a half-grand to a childrens shelter
-only to be crushed upon leaving.
crushed at the thought I can't share this with her.
and it's always her.
In my fucked up head. on my fucked up mind.
can't shake this great loss.
For all the bad, my love for her was unmitigated, pure,
and fiercer than ever previous.
He left her.
He couldn't take her abuse anymore.
But i still love her.
And my life is meaningless without her.
And if there were anyone to, they'd tell me it'll pass,
just give it time.
he tried to tell himself that too
but this time feels different.
Worse than my worst breakup
worse than the most agonizing heartbreak of his life
-and he's had a few.
this time he doesn't care about feeling better.
this time he moves on rails.
and in my musings on trying to feel
i'm still not seeking redmption,
merely a temporary distraction. a single crest in
the wave of my forward motion.
This feels like eternity,
like my agony is a frozen frame of a bad movie.
Doomed to flicker and eventually burn through into emptiness.
'Dear god,' I think
'I want my money back'
and my wasted time.
I want to give up on everything.
but this shell keeps moving.
these lungs still painfully intake air
and then exhale.
my heart feels broken. I literally feel the clasp of a fist
around it lately.
but somehow the bastard still beats,
if only out of spite for me.
My head still processes just enough for me to mime my way through
social interactions.
-but in private it pounds so bad he can't even see straight.
he sleeps little, and fitfully.
what are dark circles under most peoples eyes become whiter
patches in mine
-symbol of health
The body still grows and tightens and, in proper lighting, begins to look
like that of a warrior.
and all he wants to do is grind it to burger.
feed it back to the earth.
But the earth turns fine without it.
He longs to disappear.
to sleep, perchance to dream.
...and all that bullshit.
He thinks he hides it well
but everyone keeps asking if i'm ok.
People who know peeople who know someone who knows me
->keep asking if i'm ok.
3rd party worry. concern by-proxy.
such a strange thing.
he feels infected and volitile
But in reality I'm just sad.
.and lonely.
.and tired of this life i find myself in.
every day I feel myself slipping deeper under this sea of melancholy.
I can't even see the shimmer of the surface anymore.
..
.I don't even want to.
Now it's later, Night.
Loneliness coagulates around me, though i'm surrounded by people.
Despair becomes all-encompassing.
I leave my safe haven.
for alcohol.
for something to numb my throbbing existence.
buy a bottle. for myself.
-and it's you and me and a bottle makes three tonight.
..only there is no you.
-only me.
Hate the holidays with a seething passion.
hate the disaster it introduces in my life.
he drives, accidentally (subconsciously?) passing landmarks; ghosts.
I wince physically at the flashes of imagery.
I write in a smile and a tired embrace.
fill lives with terror and sorrow
-on paper.
I punish my characters for the iniquities of my tangible world.
sometimes i feel sorry for them.
thought: now i'm writing fluid, stream-of-conscious.
that thought, however, destroys its revelation.
now i'm consciously thinking about unconsciously writing.
water and oil.
osmotic oppression as metaphor for my head.
where is my mind-where is my mind
where am I?
why isn't it time for whiskey yet?
I am Pavolovs' alcoholic dog
and happily so.
From the dawn of man there has been unhappiness and confusion
and through all of it man has sought to numb it.
We ferment, we fuck, we kill, pray, risk, dream, create, annihlate.
we are seekers who feel we've unlocked the universe on godly beautiful
quantum and physic levels.
we turn to science or god for alpha and omega
and we're still as clueless as the protoplasmic morass
that formed this consciousness.
consciousness: mans great gift?
the worst curse ever inflicted on anything.
Rocks rend, trees wither, water freezes, evaporates, condenses, bonds and splits
all without this idea; awareness.
and all through sane machinations.
that pedestal we claim is a holocaust.
I was born; of this i am fairly certain.
but what am i?
atoms formed into molecules formed into larger and larger
conglomerate systems.
What great work is man?
Give a man too much sodium and his 'personality' changes.
give him too much water, or too little, and he dies.
destroy a few cells and he has no memory.
All we are is a great number of complex interactions and we, as our components,
are part of greater unseen systems.
I am an amino acid in a cell broken down and reused
-not a beautiful and unique snowflake.
-or so it goes.
He smiles at a friend but doesn't mean it.
He grits his teeth.
I wash myself in copious amounts of nicotine and caffiene in the meantime.
I smoke.
I attack my primary mode of survival multiple times daily.
I autolyse.
But what function have i ever performed?
Such juvenile thoughts I have.
what are we? why are we?
like a highschool doper trying for deep affect
I ponder these pointless things.
Break me down.
Had a forgotten nightmare last night during my few hours of shutdown time.
woke up dizzy.
vertigo defines me. envelops me. destroys me.
He glances at his phone, realizes he's waiting for a call he know won't come.
a casual conversation ensues.
and she comes up.
his chin quivers and his eyes gel instantly.
-the friend beats a hasty exit
and he wants to die a little more.
I am awash with the urge to flee, run, escape...
--but to where?
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