Have been on the weirdest plane as of late.

I’ve stayed in the past three nights in a row, & tonight I also choose to just stay in.
I wish I had better study habits.
The NAVY has been on my mind a lot lately.

I dwell on things that are well out of hand. 
I want to do better for myself by myself. 
Most often my insecurities get the best of me, but I refuse to permit my past to dictate my future.

Pour attention into the cup of attraction
my exterior must be the distraction
often I ponder “am I painted in unapproachable blues?”
or are the waves of my brain actively hyper?
 
even in the intangible, tangled environment of the inter-webs I feel the same. 

FUCK ME.
FUCK YOU ALSO,
B
U
T
ABOVE ALL
F U C K M E.

I’m medicated, comfortably numb in a bed of security.
I need bigger dreams. I need to fear.
I don’t want a life jacket. 

As of recent analyzations it’s become apparent to me that my only fountain of inspiration has been envy and jealousy. A need for recognition that I too can do ‘it’, that I am also capable of doing just ‘that’. 

But why? Why is it that I must observe you in a state of creation before I desire to do it?
What bothers me even further is the distance, or lack thereof, between inspiration & myself. Often times this stimulant is about an inch away from a friendly handshake and a week away from becoming my lover.

How horrible is it that my immediate surroundings, be it family, friends, lovers, enemies and their accomplishments, act as the catalyst in my endeavors? That this feeling is not nurtured by self, but as a byproduct of observing another?

I feel as though I am the shadow of my surroundings.
I am nothing created out of my own brain.
From a sea of nothing to a world of gas.

But don’t confuse this as a distaste for myself or the life I have lead for I have realized what I have been doing subconsciously. I no longer hate myself. I no longer feel eternally depressed. No, I feel disgusted that I need another to push myself in other ways. I feel as a normie. When I look out I can no longer distinguish myself from the grey. It is almost as though I just blend. Before this, when I entered nihilism, I felt as though I was headed to another world. And on my way there I must have taken a wrong turn because as time grew, I did not notice this, however, I noticed that I was blending. My arm began to smear into the sky. My face became the sun. My limbs became the trees. My feet grew roots and I became the sea. 

I began to bleed into the world. And it’s then that I noticed that I fell to the top.
Upon my arrival I started to put the world in a box. I needed to domesticate, but not by choice. It is because I was told this was knowledge.  And now I find myself no where. With nothing behind me, and no one beside me. I worry about this computer. I worry about my clothing. I worry about an image. I worry about worrying. I am becoming my khakis. I am listening to ads and billboards. I am listening to talking papers. I’m fucking repulsed.

I’m utterly repulsed. I’m sickened. My stomach turns thinking of the ideals I once held. Fuck me. Fuck the things you put in my head. Fuck this computer. Fuck the normals. Fuck the world. Fuck the image. Fuck blending. Fuck the top. Fuck the surface. To hell with social acceptance. Fuck your recognition and my need for it. Fuck this image you emulate. Fuck you. Fuck me for being so angry about it.  

If you have made it to the bottom of this entry I commemorate you. 
Simply because this was not for you, but for me.
To
V
E
N
T.
To release this pent up anger and frustration because it was beginning to leak into my family setting. It’s poison. I’m poisoned. I’m the remedy.

Adieux.  

The Sun Also Rises+Echoes of Silence = a wonderful Sunday off. 

Hanging with my mother & nephew has never been such a pleasure until time began accumulating & seeking refuge on my back. Life seems to be loads more cheerful as I grow older.

equates to my body achieving a state of optimal health. 
Or at least a level at which I can function at normally.

2 hours from now I will be another year older.
In this year I’ve grown accustomed to the idea of wanting a child earlier than I had anticipated. I’ve also developed the idea that I will flee in either two directions when I complete my last year or undergrad work; 1) South America, specifically Buenos Aires, Argentina or 2) Europe (all fucking over). I’d also enjoy doing a master’s program or joining the peace corps. 

but above all I need to dive head first into another musical project. Wherever my future choices take me this will occur. Ever since Badmouth disbanded there has been a void progressively growing within me I feel can only be remedied through creating another band. Help me cover the sun with my thumb please.

Ever since I’ve been a child I can recall becoming ill just days before my birthday. In extreme cases I’d miss the birthday celebration & Halloween all together due to the nature of the sickness. 

This year is nothing new.
I’m currently experiencing this feeling where my eyes are just about ready to convert into a liquid & leak out of their sockets. Also, mucus has collected in my nasal passages and created a blockade. Since then I’ve started breathing through my mouth making me feel completely uncomfortable. I just hope I’m better by Sunday so that I can enjoy Monday without a worry. 

In other news, I did well on my presentation in my Spanish class today. I was a little nervous & started to feel ‘shake’ in my boots. I fought to keep my composure & made it through the end. In case you’re wondering what the subject matter was I’ll let you know that it was a Hispanic literary movement known as Modernism. I enjoy literature very much, but not so much when it’s a ‘chore’ or an ‘assignment’. Still I had quite a good time reading about it and about it’s writers who developed the movement quite well & who subconsciously influenced me in many ways. I think the modernist movement is by far my favorite. 

It never fails 

When I depart from school & arrive at my parent’s house on Monday they’re either:

a) already in bed asleep
b) or already in bed watching t.v. waiting to fall asleep. 

When I divorce myself from work @ quitting time and arrive at my parent’s house they’re either:

a) headed to bed after cleaning up their dinner plates
b) or finishing the last crumbs on their dinner plates before headed to bed.

Sometimes my mother will make something both appealing & healthy, in which case she’d make an extra serving so that I can eat when either my last lecture comes to an end or when sun of my shift has finally settled. As of late this has become a very rare occurrence as my mom has been afforded a new found freedom in no longer babysitting her grandchildren. She now spends her time adorning her living room & kitchen with the appropriate season’s decorations or other arts & crafts. I don’t know what to make of it. My father on the other hand has allowed himself to grow much more calm. He’d rather avoid an argument with my mother then engage in some insignificant dispute over something along the lines of who works harder the man in his workplace or the stay at home mom as she manages the household. Instead he choose to maintain his yard, feed his pets, puff his cigarettes & drink his lite-beer. 

On Monday & Wednesday, after hours of exercise, principles and theories of international finance, diving head first into ‘la literatura, cultura y historia de hispanoamerica’ and finally swimming in the vast ocean of global marketing I reach a lonely house. One whose only method of communication manifests in the sounds the floorboards make every step I take. I open the refrigerator and find anything worthy of being deemed a vegetable. I make sure it isn’t rotten and attempt to make something to consume. I sit and talk to my four walls about everything and nothing at all. I stare at a screen. I day dream. I night dream. Yet, I’m rarely ever afforded the suggested hours of sleep. When my attention span is finally exhausted my body shuts down-similar to the way induced amnesia works-without any recollection of it happening. 

On Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday & Sunday after hours of standing on my feet creating a need for humans, who for the most part have no interest in any product I ever demonstrate due to their sedentary, lethargic lifestyle, I am lucky to begin ‘closing up shop’. If my manager can’t handle the stress my peers create she employs me to help her deal. I’m standing for a longer period of time making sure all paper work has been filled out and submitted properly, all appliances have been cleaned and sanitized properly, and finally that everything is in compliance with safety health codes. I’m finally free. I sit and start my mobile coffin and begin my journey back to my lonely home. Tuesdays & Thursdays call for a release of tension and stress via a nice, sweaty jog through a trail just 5 minutes south east from my home. Friday, Saturday and Sunday are Monday and Wednesday on repeat. I sit in my white room. I say everything to nothing and nothing to everything. I think. I feel….alone. I hear Janedog-sometimes I have no responsibilities to tend to and can take her for a nice brisk walk other times I’m saddened by her whimpers and yearning for my attention. 


I live alone. I don’t want. 

Full-time student 2 days out of 7.
Part-time lead event specialist 4 days out of 7.
Workout 4 days out of 7.
Homework 4 days out of 7. 

I want music in my life. I want Badmouth back.

I come across a collective of artists doing rad shit or go to a live gig & watch bands rock the fuck out and have tons of fun I get so angry at myself. 

For:

• allowing my brain to restrict me so much, when I could be doing much more
• not pushing myself past what my brain/society thinks, and doing that ‘more’
• not allowing my hunger/yearning take hold of the wheel & steering me
• Allowing my BRAIN to PARALYZE ME THROUGH MEANS OF OVER ANALYZING.
• wearing my noose so gallantly as if it were a medal of honor
• as if looking better on paper is cherished more than the memories i keep

Brain, please stop telling me what to do as I will no longer pay you any mind & cease taking orders from you. Any attempt will only serve to infuriate you as I will never receive those messages because I’m breaking my neck & taking all future orders from my Heart. 

I’ve stumbled upon a treasure chest abundant in what could be potential memories and portraits depicting what seems to be my fatal attraction to societal alienation.