Saturday, July 23, 2011
all these hopes pinned on the eventuality of movement - motion for motion’s sake. it’s a habit by now, a lifestyle. years of wandering and cutting ties whenever appropriate leaves one with an attitude of constant nervousness, always ready to move on to the next scene. if things aren’t working out you can always pick up and pedal these aspects of your personality to a new round of strangers. I’ve dissected and pop-psychologized myself so much now, I think I have a good handle on my issues. I can see the factors that have shaped me, the preemptive tendency to abandon another before being abandoned, built into every relationship and the very structure of my life. my mother gave me to her mother, my grandmother left this earth in a quick moment swerving on a dirt road to avoid hitting a deer, I was 13 years old and discovering new feelings. crushed. I shut off emotionally and went thru an appropriate lesson on mortality and loss at a developmental time. angsty teenage years led me to leave my home, take refuge with my father’s family, discover that side of my history. later, tearful arguments after the box of paraphenillia was discovered under my bed - I screamed you were never around, I was told he visited every christmas but I don’t remember. strange how we piece our own life’s narratives out of fragmented childhood images and implanted memories from stories we were told about ourselves. my regression into infinite childhood. spoiled suckling of evil empire, feasting on abandoned wasteful remains of abundant industrial civilization. give me good old fashioned genocide, our ancestors raped and pillaged each other so we could sit here and have dinner parties yet again, giving thanks for ridiculous romantic unscrupulous diabolical cannonball diving into the choppy waves of unpredictable essential life experience; too many times to count down to destruction. broken syntax and no discernible sentences, just this chain of running on stream of consciousness word salad. from this deluded experience I am supposed to be your reliable narrator? I am willfully obfuscating my life in generalities and vague terminology, because I don’t want you to know everything about me and I’m still trying to live some kind of life as a crazy adventure story motif - and the manic time before departure, before take off, before you hit the road with a thumb out pointing toward your destination. arrivals are full of mania as well, because once you get there you think you’re gonna be all worn out and tired, but actually you’ll be so excited to be able to decompress and expand, you’ll want to go out and do something fun, see everyone you can, stay up and congregate. nothing beats good road trips, and arrivals and departures with good people you haven’t seen in a while. all of this on the horizon. the most interesting thing that could happen is unbeknownst to me, it could startle or surprise me- I hope it does, as that is the mode I’m trying to cultivate being in in this time of my life. it’s helpful to have assistance from another, who is similarly interested in cultivating that kind of relationship with being open to unknown opportunities, it’s helpful because you can support the mentality as well as have more eyes on it, scouring the trails for anything of medicinal value, getting ready for the big flight, the big migration, when the white blood cell gets to the heart and asks for oxygen the heart doesn’t say no, the heart oxygenates the blood cell and goes on pumping and the lungs go on inhaling and the flock is taking off in formation. stripping data threadbare barely aware of the scariest implications of the instructions. let’s make a sign that says Oregon and stand by the on ramp next to the in-n-out, looking like nomadic bohemia and selling some story of freedom to carelessly drift town to town, catalyzing the cleansing flames clearing the old dead brush, allowing new growth to foster. the natural justification for destructive impulsivity and no less out there outside of the realms of human morality quantified and justified generally across the average intelligence of a bunch of brainwashed morons. my convoluted misanthropy. my golden ticket. my willingness to conspire in the open and breathe high altitude progression blockade walk in arcade caution spark plague. joking around about burning the place down, hammer down protocol to eradicate any threat of transmission. electromagnetic wireless connection interrupted but I still dumped a couple good downloads from my consciousness to satisfy the condition that I am a writer, that I am alive, and that I have my own domain name that I can talk about stuff on, let me tell you all these things.

all these hopes pinned on the eventuality of movement - motion for motion’s sake. it’s a habit by now, a lifestyle. years of wandering and cutting ties whenever appropriate leaves one with an attitude of constant nervousness, always ready to move on to the next scene. if things aren’t working out you can always pick up and pedal these aspects of your personality to a new round of strangers.

I’ve dissected and pop-psychologized myself so much now, I think I have a good handle on my issues. I can see the factors that have shaped me, the preemptive tendency to abandon another before being abandoned, built into every relationship and the very structure of my life. my mother gave me to her mother, my grandmother left this earth in a quick moment swerving on a dirt road to avoid hitting a deer, I was 13 years old and discovering new feelings. crushed. I shut off emotionally and went thru an appropriate lesson on mortality and loss at a developmental time. angsty teenage years led me to leave my home, take refuge with my father’s family, discover that side of my history. later, tearful arguments after the box of paraphenillia was discovered under my bed - I screamed you were never around, I was told he visited every christmas but I don’t remember. strange how we piece our own life’s narratives out of fragmented childhood images and implanted memories from stories we were told about ourselves.

my regression into infinite childhood. spoiled suckling of evil empire, feasting on abandoned wasteful remains of abundant industrial civilization. give me good old fashioned genocide, our ancestors raped and pillaged each other so we could sit here and have dinner parties yet again, giving thanks for ridiculous romantic unscrupulous diabolical cannonball diving into the choppy waves of unpredictable essential life experience; too many times to count down to destruction. broken syntax and no discernible sentences, just this chain of running on stream of consciousness word salad. from this deluded experience I am supposed to be your reliable narrator? I am willfully obfuscating my life in generalities and vague terminology, because I don’t want you to know everything about me and I’m still trying to live some kind of life as a crazy adventure story motif -

and the manic time before departure, before take off, before you hit the road with a thumb out pointing toward your destination. arrivals are full of mania as well, because once you get there you think you’re gonna be all worn out and tired, but actually you’ll be so excited to be able to decompress and expand, you’ll want to go out and do something fun, see everyone you can, stay up and congregate. nothing beats good road trips, and arrivals and departures with good people you haven’t seen in a while.

all of this on the horizon. the most interesting thing that could happen is unbeknownst to me, it could startle or surprise me- I hope it does, as that is the mode I’m trying to cultivate being in in this time of my life. it’s helpful to have assistance from another, who is similarly interested in cultivating that kind of relationship with being open to unknown opportunities, it’s helpful because you can support the mentality as well as have more eyes on it, scouring the trails for anything of medicinal value, getting ready for the big flight, the big migration, when the white blood cell gets to the heart and asks for oxygen the heart doesn’t say no, the heart oxygenates the blood cell and goes on pumping and the lungs go on inhaling and the flock is taking off in formation. stripping data threadbare barely aware of the scariest implications of the instructions.

let’s make a sign that says Oregon and stand by the on ramp next to the in-n-out, looking like nomadic bohemia and selling some story of freedom to carelessly drift town to town, catalyzing the cleansing flames clearing the old dead brush, allowing new growth to foster. the natural justification for destructive impulsivity and no less out there outside of the realms of human morality quantified and justified generally across the average intelligence of a bunch of brainwashed morons.

my convoluted misanthropy. my golden ticket. my willingness to conspire in the open and breathe high altitude progression blockade walk in arcade caution spark plague. joking around about burning the place down, hammer down protocol to eradicate any threat of transmission. electromagnetic wireless connection interrupted but I still dumped a couple good downloads from my consciousness to satisfy the condition that I am a writer, that I am alive, and that I have my own domain name that I can talk about stuff on, let me tell you all these things.

Posted at 7:09 AM