let the sun shine in…. and break this cold. a painful bitter cold that burns the skin and makes one think it will be easier once forever asleep. no encouraging words here… sorry. just want to leave this forsaken town forever… only to return during summer.
there are a few cards in the deck (tarot) that express the querents need to take the reigns; ‘the chariot’ card, as an example. the chariot card asks us to literally “put your damn hands up and steer the motherfu**ing wheel in order to reap the best possible scenarios for the future.
ive pulled the chariot card from the deck. i had a 1/78 chance to do so.unless you believe, like i do, that the cards we pick are a perfection of destiny’s message from beyond. so fate picked my card. i understand what the card asks of me. but my proverbial buggy wheels are rust and crumbling compliments of the a lifetime of inaction coupled with the unforgiving ravages of passed time. they will not turn.
the cards may be asking me to take my wheel. break this inaction. yet every choice we have made lately makes us feel as if we have stepped further and further back from the yoke. odie waits for me at home all day. while im gone i feel im watching the movie of my life as series of wholly uninteresting and disassociated pictures-a slow motion slide show we dislike viewing. a poor script indeed.
worse yet, we dont know why we feel this way. yet the feeling is true. this feeling grabs both of us.
odie wonders why im missing/working and not home. i wonder why im working and not home. when i was home i wondered why i wasnt working. then i wondered why work at all? then i wondered why not work all the time. then i wondered what the hell was wrong with me. for only an anxious fool blinded by a hate for all things conformity would ask such questions of himself. yet i didnt stop there. next i asked why ask about asking at all. why ask why. why not ask why ask why not. a carousel of self indulgent questioning was about the only thing turning in our lives.
the real problem; any work other than the screenplay leaves us distraught. yet we hesistate. and delay. then when we do get around to the task of writing our muse has left the building replaced by performance and perfection anxiety. our latest contributions have been streams of consciousness far outside the realms of traditional dialogue. weve had no joy in writing any of it. we cant sell it either. nor show it around.
we dont know why all of these jumbled feelings of failure and more failure have sewn us tight. but we want to know. perhaps this ‘knowing’ would scuttle the dilemma we face now.
i digress from my miseries. let me continue.
weve sat in a corner while others painted us in. thats far worse than painting yourself in. at least in the later, you f**cked your own game plan. i am no way absolving myself of responsibility about where i now sit.
at this moment we are overwhelmed by a deep sadness. utterly depressing sadness.
weve always wanted to be drivers of our ship. not waiting for someone elses. not a passenger. but a captain and commander. not a sitter in the only unpainted corner. but thats precisely where we are.
we fear our lives will be a series of “how come she never…” “so much ______ yet she never ______ with it’.
these quotes evoke a paralyzing inner fear. when youre this far gone down the rabbit hole of counter society the thought of climbing out and the work it will take to do so is dauntingly paralyzing. and thats just the work to get to the surface. imagine the work needed to succeed among the herd?
perhaps we were never cut out for the herded life? we know we werent. but even those with minimal _____ were able to eek out a living amongst the living. what does this then say about one blessed in so many ways by the gods, yet squanderer?
the final stab wound>the cuteness of youth and the endless possibilities of youth have left us.
ahh sweet bird of youth youve flown my coop.
a poem then?
“Sweet bird of youth youve flown my coop.
never to return.
admired more enviously with every day
perched upon the brow of another.
Leaving bitter a purgatory of mid aged shell
Not yet young, to wallow in folly of youth.
Not yet old, to see this folly and its gaze back fool
are one and the same.”
the rocking chairs and the canes of unaccomplishment surround us. ultimate fear jeers at us.
we are frozen. frightened. pitiful.
wheres odie with a translator collar when you need him? what would he say to al of this. what would he say about my long absences that leave him crying and lonely. if only he and i could understand each other more. i would explain why i am gone and return sad. i would remind him of my undying love for him and how strong it is though it comes from a person of perpetual inaction.
goodnite dear friends.please dont let the same ghosts haunt you as they haunt me.
sometimes we feel like this. solid rock and mass amongst the moving currents of an ever-changing/fleeting world just beyond grasp. an island. with a few living trees atop. and some brush. our edges slowly crumbling away with each breath of air. each lap of wave. and we feel sad. and we feel alone. but we’ve made ourselves as such. why?
in what ways have you become a beautiful island amongst constant change? in what ways have you done this as a point of self preservation and realization. in what ways was this the only way to survive in a mad mad world.
cannot we ourselves be our only true constant?
dont be sad. just remember that this is a part of reflection…..
hugs, with odies small arms with tufts of short white fur about you. hugs with odie mamas lithe honey colored limbs of the female human form about you as well.
this amazing landscape that looks as hand painted by gods angels (with an exciting acrylic over wash) reminds me exactly of how i feel. alone but not lonely. without guidance or routine, but not lost. still dreaming. still creating. still filled with color. yet, i still want to know:
might i one day find a complete balance?
the earth’s turning just fast enough that when i wake up from these next few weeks and go outside things will be noticeably different than before; people will have moved places and i wont know where they’ve gone. theyll be doing new/cool/different things, and i won’t know how they happened upon these changes. and theyre ill be in the background; standing like a little lost kid dragging my teddybear by one arm down the sidewalk behind me as everyone shuffles on to whatever personal greatness they’ve been busy making for themselves the last decade.
odie wonders if this is a problem at all? we all work at our own pace. grow at our own pace. As odie and i sadly know, my pace, in general, has been 10 years behind that of everyone else in my fields. i had no idea about doing the art or the writing until 5 years ago? 6.. why fates, why fill my mind with the idea to take on a life’s hobby or job 10 years after everyone else???? why the fuck let everyone else konw that they wanted to go to film and art school.. and have me float around like an old shoe in a salvation army basement trying a variety of non paying jobs that i hated. how could i have been sucha fool and continue to be so foolish?
what part of this late decision is conducive to my destiny? might i not know?? the answer alludes me. when i signed on the dotted line for this “mission” (i use air quotes disrespectfully) did i really sign up for this listless wandering of a life? i cant imagine i would want to be alive, suffer the agonies of physical existence, and not get a BIG payoff. soon. thats my personality this time around. not point in doing anything without genuine payoff. wouldnt have come back for anything less than perfection…
im frustrated by the amount of work and self hatred and self doubting i will face by taking on this screenplay. i simply loath it. yet there is no other way. there is no other work, completed and well received that would satisfy me. gods i pray this is true. why feel to the need to pursue a fate that will only end in misery? for what if?? what if it is not well received… oh fuck fuck fuck. i cannot imagine the torturous flames of hell that would consume my happiness if i failed. and yes, failure to me is a lack of success.
would an active writing partner be able to troubleshoot these hang ups?
Odie nods, tucks his chin back under his tail, and goes back to napping. may only animals and plants know a perfect peace? or need you be an even more stable life form? a rock perhaps. anyone believe in the universal kinetic believes that all atoms are alive. therefore the water we drink, the rocks we walk upon count as brothers and sisters in the universal game of life. most times i wish it was that easy.
ok fuck it. let honestly take precedence here. theres no beauty in how i feel: stuck. unproductive. lazy. idle. meaningless. i must return to my pages and push forward with the dialogue writing. one day away from my work is crippling. its been 2. so adieu odyssians, until the morrow.
lately the wind to blog has been,taken out of me and odie..
someone once told me that it was in these moments one,needed to blog the most:for happiness for perseverance for sanity.
well, Here we are. Face to face with the matrix via Samsung cellphone virtualkeyboard. None of this blog is real. Just ones and zeros unseen untouched flying through the air… Tomorrow.a kill switch.could end my year of blogging. And it would be as if it never existed. Yet we blog nonetheless.
Im always Wondering why Keanu never asked, “what happens if I take both pills”
For..cant one live in the.fantasy of the false world while knowing the horrors of the reality? That.cozy.safe spot ; a mellowing haze of opiates damping the screams of the dying?
Is that not what some of us choose to do everyday? Is that not.what most of us choose to.do everyday. Living bandaid to bandaid..
The fear of having its camouflage flesh torn off, revealing the jagged unhealed wound underneath is unbearable isnt it.
Better the remain silent. Easier to
Hide behind moments of silence.