Look At Me Post!

In an effort to make sure the five of you who keep track of me don't think I'm dead, I'm updating. Hooray!

So. Here it is. I'm going to try my hand at some (marginally fictionalized) prose this break. I may post it up here, if I can figure out a way to make cuts, like a livejournal entry. I'm also going to try to get on here and post film and album reviews, both new and old, because if anybody needs culture, it's you guys. I have one or two up and around. I may see if I can locate them.

I'm working on putting together a top ten albums of the year list. By "working on", I mean I'm currently listening to every album that I own (and several I don't) that came out this year, alphabetically by artist... cause that's how they're organized in my iTunes. Considering I'm only on "Apples In Stereo, The" (New Magnetic Wonder is a pretty excellent album, by the way), I have a wys to go. I'll have to go through them all at least one more time, as I'm only listening for a fresh absorption this first time. I'll go through again and make a note or two. Points will go to albums that I've listened to a lot, and subtracted from albums that, while intellectually and musically excellent, are just not listenable on any pedestrian level (see: The Fiery Furnaces).

I've acquired so much fucking music in the last month. Hoo.

Anyway: more soon. I'll be telling you what sucks and what doesn't. So... look forward to it, bitches.

I WILL Be Grateful For This Day

There's something about today. I'm not sure what it is, it's not discernible in any true sense. The weather is cold, I've been up since 6:30, and I feel mildly ill. It's gray and dismal.

And yet, this must be an up day. Has to. Must.

I feel great. And I don't know why. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to beat against the walls, the doors, the barricades, until my hands are raw and bleeding, shattered, useless things. And yet... I feel great.

I feel like I could tear down the world. Shred the societal norms. Finally live a little.

I want to find love. I want to find someplace I can call my own. I want to create a meaning for things. I want to understand, and I want to overcome.

Hmm.


---------------
Now playing: Wilco - I Am Trying To Break Your Heart
via FoxyTunes

On My Laffy Taffy

Q: What kind of ship never sinks?

A: Friendship.

Blink Once for "Yes", Twice for Gibbering Insanity

I'm writing to you tonight from the last vestige of sanity, a tiny little refuge less than a mile from the border. It's after two AM, and I'm awake. It's totally inexplicable. I didn't sleep for eight hours (maybe five?) and I was certainly up long enough that I should have passed the fuck out. I should be unconscious. I'm not.

I'm awake.

Awake. Awakeawakeawake.

Insomnia brings a very special kind of insanity to the fore. If insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, the insomnia is the deep-seated fear, brought on by the fact that you never feel like you're ever rested, that nothing will ever change. That doing the same thing, over an over, even though it can't, it won't, it could never work, is the only thing that will ever work.

I want to cry.

What do you do when you wake up at 2? Hmm? I can't call anyone. I can't do anything. What is there to do? I can't sleep. I can't sleep. I can't sleep.

I really, really want to break down. I want to just start screaming, at the top of my lungs, until someone comes and takes me, puts me in bed, tucks me in, and kisses me on the forehead. I want to shriek, I want to wail, I want to scream.

[...]

(I went to shower. I decided that I wasn't done with this entry, though. So I'm back.)

My eyes feel like they're bulging and bloodshot. Like any second, they could burst forth from my skull and fall, worthless, to the ground. My lips, dry and desiccated, like a body left in the desert. My tongue, worthless. A muscle communicating dead and useless things through words with no meaning. My heart, worthless. A muscle beating out dead and useless things, inert feelings of no use to anyone.

How can anything change? How do things progress? I understand, yes yes, "we must be the change we wish to see in the world." And what about those days when you wake up and you know that nothing will ever change? How do you get up? How do you function? How do you cope with a reality that seems every day like it devours whole those who want to make things better? How do you live in a world that destroys those who would be our role models?

How? I really don't understand this. And I know, everyone deals with shit in their life. Rise Against says "how we survive is what makes us who we are." Life is hard, suck it up.

Well, fuck you. I make it through the days. I deal with shit. But I've never been able to suck it up and just cope. And I don't think I should have to. Why should I pretend that everything's okay? What fucking function does that serve? Well?

Trappedtrappedtrapped in my head. No one should have to deal with that.

Alright. I'm going to step out for a smoke. If I write more, I'll tell you a story.