Hot Boys and Music: Our Conversations Always Go Like This...

It's after four in the morning. I have a lot on my mind, so I came once again to the humble fire escape. The only signs of life I see are from the cars in the distance traveling on the highway and the slow-burning ember slowly burning its way down my cigarette. I finish my cigarette and see the breath from my lungs push its way back into the world.

La mente ahora.

Someone told me that my blogs have been somewhat emo lately. I feel like that might be true. The only reasoning I can deduce is that it's because the breath coming from my mouth is being used only for breathing, and not for sustaining life by other means.  I'm not sure what that all entails, but I feel as though I've been letting things culminate to this point and now I have such an amalgamation of simple ideas that should be so easy to categorize but I can't see them.  For some reason, my mind doesn't want for me to deal.  If I cannot, then I cannot.

I had to go outside.  It's not too cold here.  Wrapped in a blanket, the only parts of me that are not warm are gently touched by the cold outside, which isn't here to harm me.  Rather, it gently reminds me that outside is not somewhere I should stay long.  I do think that I could stay up to watch the sunrise.  I'm not sure what else to do with myself.  I am no longer sleepy.  No, I have not been up all day to this hour, I slept for a few hours this evening, but was roused by steps and a voice in the hallway.

The light in the parking lot comes on every once in a while.  It lives on a timer, a light that shocks into life and slowly grows to its purpose, only to shut off a moment later.  I can't imagine what people did before heaters.  I mean, I know that they had fires.  I get that...but the coldness.  Why would anyone live anywhere not tropical?  I imagine that this might have had an odd effect on the planet if the world's population resided solely in tropical places.

I haven't seen live jazz music in too long.  I long for it...to be drunken on the sound, to be paralyzed because the sound surrounds me and holds me in place.  Sometimes I wish that I still played.  If I did, I'm sure I would have to find somewhere to play.  I miss my saxophone.  He lies dormant in a dark corner in a basement a thousand miles away (not quite 1,000...more like...900 miles).

Un foto de un Hydra.

I feel like I have to be strong right now.  I have no idea why.  The more I try to think about things, the more cloudy it becomes.  I feel like I'm trying to kill Hydra.  It isn't working for me.  I'm not very strong and I surely have no idea how to wield a sword.  ...or any weapons, for that matter.

I've also experienced a sharp rise in the amount of physical pain occurring in my life.  That should teach me to try to fight people when they're hulked out or have Herculean strength.  ...or at least some sort of Goliath strength.  It won't.  I'll still fight.  (disclaimer: I don't actually fight people.  ...not like real anger fighting.  ...maybe it *does* occasionally have a tinge of anger, but nothing mean, especially to those with whom I fight).

I feel as though I haven't said anything at all this whole blog.  I feel like it's because I can't figure out my feelings.  I don't want to make any of them go away, I just want to understand what all is there and to see if I can do anything about it.  As far as any sort of real update in my life, I don't have to work today or next week Friday.  TWO four-day weeks in a row will be divine.  The week after that is going to kick my ass though.  ...and with a new year means that I will have lots of vacation time to plan.  Don't get your hopes up, readers.  I have my destination picked. ...and it will be such a grand experience.  <3

This is to a happy December 24th and 25th.  ...whatever they mean to any of you.  I hope that they bring you happiness whether you're alone or with other...living things.  Also, if you killed a tree to have it in your house for a month, you deserve to have a fucking tree needle sliver.  Dick.

We Go Together Like the W*nter and a Sweater

I've been thinking some more about the ZA.  I would definitely like to run a car into a building...Life would probably be a lot happier if I just won the lottery, which would financially enable me to fulfill all of these crazy desires.  I would probably build an amazing underground bunker, similar to the one on that terrible Brendan Fraser movie where he lives underground for years.  No, I don't remember what it's called either.

I recently went to a show (The Last Troubadour!!!) and it happened to be at a nun-run high.  It happened to be a benefit...towards the fight against AIDS, or SIDA, depending on where you're from.  At this concert, which was run by nuns and high school students, I went to go make my little donation/pay to get in to the event.  I was informed upon handing over money that I was required to fill out a form.  I inquired as to the nature of the form...it was a consent form.  This form was my undying pledge to refrain from drinking, smoking, drugs, or...hitting on anyone while at this event.  While waiting for the best band that night to go on, I went to a bar and had a few...cigarettes and drinks.  ...and french fries.  The form said nothing of gluttony, though it's one of the seven deadly sins. ...or something like that.

I am soo cold right now.  I'm not really sure why.  When I go outside, for the most part, I'm fine.  Upon returning to the comfort of the climate-controlled indoors, I become chilled.  Maybe I feel a resounding emptiness that cannot be swept away by the crisp wind of winter.  It doesn't always bother me.  ...just sometimes.  I need a puppy.  ...then I can just cuddle with it.  BUT. ...I don't really want a poop machine.  If I found a manboy, then at least he would shit in a toilet.  Not that they're really comparable.  I'm taking this moment to disclose that I am not comparing men to dogs.  ...other than the fact that they both make great cuddle buddies.

I feel like right now there's some sort of internal struggle going on.  I'm not really sure what it's about or why it's happening.  Does it have to do with Christmas?  Does it have to do with this chill?  I know that I haven't done any drawing or reading or studying for a while.  I know that THAT bothers me...though I'm not really sure if that's why I struggle.  None of those things have any calamitous repercussive consequences, so I feel fairly confident in excluding them as actual reasons for feeling like this.

I feel like I've got the San Andreas in me...I feel like the more things that happen, the more apparent it is and the shakier things get...I blame the holiday season.  I feel like I always get this way.  ...but it's somehow different.  Also, this has nothing to do with not going to Iowa for Christmas.  I have no desire to go back...as far as I can surmise, I don't know if I'll ever go back.  I'm not necessarily saying that I don't wish to see anyone from there ever again, I just...why?

I'm also not sure why I pour this all out to you, reader.  Sometimes I feel kind of like Helen Keller, except the whole seeing and talking and hearing thing.  I *do* have the ability to do those things.  I wish I were better at just opening up to people.  I don't try to be challenging.  If I stay closed forever, I'm going to miss those moments...of soft sincerity and innocent boldness...I imagine those moments are like playing freeze tag or hide and seek.  ...I want them.  They're just so confusing to me.  I also spend way too much time analyzing all of this information.  I should go to bed and listen to more soothsayers in my sleep.