What She Wants. (2/3/08)

Paratrooper boy gave me a book of his to read. Said he swears by it and that i simply have to see for myself.
It’s called ‘What She Wants’, and is arguably the most mind-bending, gut-wrenching specimen of modern society hypocrisy and shallowness i’ve ever seen;
Hence, it’s of undeniable value and i do believe it should be taught in schools worldwide alongside WW2 and the Vietnam war.
Fear it, puny mortals.
 
Simply put, it is an unprecedented load of superficial rubbish, coupled by shallow analogies, the exaltation of hypocrisy and an unerring post-urban overtone of so called sexual ‘liberalism’, and carefully imbued spelling mistakes.
 
I repeat, spelling mistakes.
 
To top it all off, it narrows the female species down to 5 or 6 archetypes and teaches you how to deal with them via a checklist -
so if your victimized lady is both stupid and superficial, for example,
then you need to be aggressive and physical as well as mentioning various brand names and high-society locales blatantly.
 
Nay, i say!
If she’s both stupid and superficial , you need to avoid dating her -
it’s the simple and obvious truth that this particular book hasn’t figured out just yet.
 
I remember Vicka. I can’t say i was following a pre-determined check list, but i might have all the same.
It wasn’t courting. It wasn’t close to being a relationship.
It was easy, cheap and immediate, and it wasn’t worth eating myself over how useless it was.
 
Time better spent making a sandwich.

Is, Was and Will Be. (1/3/08)

Day 235.
Yesterday i moved my hand in the wrong direction.
I was expecting to feel pain – the familiar sting and screeching notion, but there was nothing.
Actually, the lack of pain frightened me for a moment. Old habits die hard, i guess.
‘Going home is hard, but what’s to be said for staying away’, right?
 
My qualm with this song -
Take notes, i’m thinking -
This fleeting moment of your enjoyment will pass.
And even if this ambience did not stop
Until the earth quit spinning
You’d eventually bore of it and implore of us that we do not continue.
 
If you tried to write nines until there were no nines,
In time, you’d die and you would not finish.
 
The only difference in infinacy between god and us
Is our own imprisonment in time.
God, can i please fast-forward to the best parts?
Then god, can i please rewind to the beginning?
 
My palms, my hand, my neck is sweating,
The seconds drip from the clock like a broken tap -
If you try and plug the leak with anything, it only leaks much faster
And you know that one day, the valve will break
And the volume of your water main will unleash on your bedroom,
And i’ve got a lot of shit to do,
I don’t have time to fit that in anytime soon.
 
I whisper an answer, i tremble, you pause,
Just tell me that it’s not in vain, you’ll never forget me…
These moments – my moments – i want them, they’re mine
And if you bury them with me i’ll never forgive you.
 
So who cares if my time is wasted? You don’t use it.
It’s nothing.
All i can be is all there is, was and will be.

Bent at the elbows.

It’s time to write again.
The endless liability of human connection, of leaving something behind.
I tire of reaching out, and i apologize in advance – i fully intend to be cryptic this time around.
 
Paratrooper boy came to visit. First time he’s actually been here, and i think he took it kinda hard.
I find i need to face my lies just to see i’m apparently not lying at all, and i wonder if someone upstairs is cracking jokes at my expense.
 
I’ve been playing with the thought for a while now;
i remember Mor thinking her life was pre-planned. I remember the concept being as funny as it was theoretically depressing, in a schizoid kind of way.
She said i should get used to it – strange things happen around her. Magical things, she would say, and i would smile and nod and tell her she was cute, and then she would take me seriously and ignore the subtext.
 
It’s kind of a regressed memory, but in our earlier days she decided we could not keep seeing each other because of Alice in Wonderland.
She was confident her life was conceptually parallel to the story of the book, that it all had a deep and profound meaning for her – and according to her interpretations of the text, we were bound for failure. It was the next logical step, and bound to happen.
 
She took quite a bit of convincing to drop the subject.
While i must admit it was adorable and innocent, it was undeniably moronic and immature and as such, a bit like having a pair of wings; it’s great in theory, but hard to actually live with.

I’ve yet to adopt a Lewis Carroll book as a personal prophecy, but i’m toying around with the conception of paying for my bullshit through divine guidance;
My life has an unsettling habit of giving me everything i ever wished for – or admitted wishing for albeit wrongfully, which is a gentle way of depicting a lie -
in just the right dosage and timing as to make me regret it.
 

Is it just a game?..
…All of it?..

1980.

I’ve been sitting here with a retarded smile for the past 15 minutes or so, following my first listen to 1980′s debut album (’1980′ is the band’s name. Try here).

We’re talking about an instrumental Jazzcore thingie from france, i think, and it sounds like instrumental Meshuggah catches Liquid Tension Experiment conducting anal intercourse with Ephel Duath – to be overly… graphic.

Seriously, it sounds great.
First song after the intro caught me completely off-guard, and i’ve been smiling like a retard eversince. When they started playing with syncopations in ‘Meshuggreich’, i was that much closer to start dancing.

Dig the backseat.

I’m full of music.
 
I’m tempted to say this is good thing, but i’m hard pressed to do so. I think, in a way, it’s just that it’s all i have left.
Day 220.
I’m improving, but my pills are gone – and being under the supervision of the brilliant army healthcare system (broken bones? here’s some aspirin for you. Will cure your asthma, while you’re at it), i’m not likely to get any more, or any other kind of treatment in the foreseeable future.
 
I’m drifting away from everything i had accomplished these past two or three years.
The domains i thought were mine, the things i thought i had achieved once and for all.
Things are more reversible than they seem. Things are always more reversible than they seem.
 
I find myself far more sociable then before.
I think after 20 years i have found my nichè – and considering it has been going on pretty much since i’ve signed in the army, both in and out of it, it’s probably not a locational matter.
I don’t quite know what’s changed. I can tell you i talk much more than i used to.
So much more, actually, that it started to seriously bother me. If there’s one thing that truly annoys me, it’s blabbermouths and noisy people in general.
Be what it may, it’s working.
I sport a host of friends with whom i have relationships that are not beneficial as before, but truly instinctive.
Put plainly (meaning, to cut the crap), these are not friends that it’s important i have, or that it’s good to have for some reason.
These are friends i’m happy to be with. Friends who’se company i find pleasant.
For the most part, anyway. Err not, i’m still a sociopath :).
 
And now, as much as you know i’d like to
I’m not gonna say a thing
‘Cause you just might be compelled
to reciprocate.
 
Quotes always come by too late, don’t they?..

Bilateral, multi-directional instability.

Day 214.
I can’t carry my dog’s water bowl anymore.
Yesterday i tried shutting the window on a bus. That didn’t work well either, and paratrooper boy had to do it for me.
I’m carrying myself with the same bent, cowardly posture that was so commonplace with me when i was in highschool. Never thought i’d regress that far.
 
I’m a world-renowned expert at handing out what i myself don’t have. I hope you’re feeling better.
I can’t even seem to know what to write anymore.
I wish i could just fade away for a couple of months, to gain my bearings and fix something.
 
We are ok.

Savant.

Paratrooper boy says expecting to stay with someone for long when you’re his/her first experience is iexpecting to defy the laws of nature.
 
I must have traded my ridicule and old man’s weary logic for anger and frustration,
’cause i can’t recall thinking this was mother nature’s fault.
 
It’s so easy not to be held responsible for your actions nowadays, being bombarded with information and other people’s experiences and errors as we are,
and i can’t help but think this should have been the other way around.
 
We are not really to blame if this has happened before, are we?
This must be unavoidable. Mother nature trials and tribulations.
 
It is my honest opinion that the fine line between that which we are guilty of and that which is inevitably out of our control draws when we die trying.
Problem is, dying tends to make you short-sighted.
It is presumably nature’s way, to not let us enjoy the fruits of our labor. We must – i suppose – have faith, hold patience and wait for the aftermath in a next life.
 
Mother nature trials and tribulations.