clean clothes and underwear but the heat from the dryer stays, an invited addition.. a bully into the atmosphere.
i'm an asshat. i don't want to save myself but i also don't want to fail or to waste all the monies that have been pouring in like wrath. bleh. i don't want to have the sit down office talk with the he/she.. the she/he.. the professor dammit. i don't like having to grovel. i don't like having to admit that instead of actually doing something.. doing things close to my major or my passion that i'm doing things to get by or to buy some time or--? aww fuck. i'm burnt and i'm old and i'm not doing anything. i'm never doing anything.
i'm remembering something once heard. a lecture about something important --but not important enough, i guess-- because (all) i took away from it (was) the fact that people need to be active people. god that's vague. what i mean is that there needs to be a constant agitation to everything. i remember this because i remember myself remembering about photography and being in the dark room.. i mean the developing dark darkroom. not the one with the red light that always gets shown in movies.. but the other room. the room we had to use to unspool and respool the roll before putting it into the container with the pungent chemicals. that was such a great time. i mean the class was somewhat miserable but the private-ness of being in that room.. spooling a roll of film in complete blindness. maybe even, when it wasn't busy, the actual developing room space. god i miss photography. i mean.. i don't miss the cost --because it IS a pretty pricey old hobby-- but gosh.. it was the closest thing to that tangible kind of magic. that magic that stays on your skin. more permanent than sex or trouble or hurt. when that image you trapped lifted up and settled... gorgeous. even if it was a desperately mediocre composition (most of my stuff).. just the process alone was worth all the discomfort and the annoyance and the stress.
my thumb still hurts, at its base, from when ben sat on it. geez i hope i can get someone to cover my shift tonight. i've really got to get back on track yadda yadda yadda
there are categories and little boxes we like to make ourselves home to. we like to say they do that and we do this. or they are not us and we are not them. or this is how the big girls drink. or this is how stoners eat. or.. this is what dominant personalities say and this is how subservience keeps.
did you know that the mind actually likes repetitive patterns that go on into perpetuity --without change or improvement?? it actually likes doing things its already good at. it doesn't like to learn new things, create new paths.
you actually have to make it do these things. you actually have to keep agitating or it just naturally wants to fall asleep, decay away into dust.
i want to crumble. actually break off into hunks of dried up thought.. days encrusted onto--? i want to make an end []
12:30 - Monday, May. 03, 2004
Recent entries:
oday.html">the 3 month countdown begins - 05 May 2018
anothrburst.html">another burst - this used to be my playground
newlife.html">begin at the beginning. - 10 April 2008
moody.html">a blanket for a bad mood under the sun. - 25 March 2007
emilludwig.html">...kissing a fool... - 05 December 2006
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
lv2write00
squirrelx
cdghost
smoog
muppetathena
crystal42
thatdame
iwillsurvive
monstre
ouvrelesyeux
poolagirl
lintpickle
i-am-jack
anniewaits18
alicewonders
sunnflower
crateobscure