Out of focus, translucent..
the times that have been short lived- of when most energy is set aside towards other people in the social aspect ‘need’, holding most plans-socially distracted-extracted- I find myself becoming less and less of the person I am- words and descriptions seeming false, and I don’t like that. Wavering ability to care- through all that has been, detachment can be beautiful, when separated from the ego. Just as awareness is when attention is removed from the self.
“The only thing that could spoil a day was people…. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.” -Hemingway
re-reading underlined passages from books and wasting time when I can’t sleep reading a thesaurus picked up at a used book-shop back home- when there is not enough time put aside for the entirety of a book in full..
"What more ghastly image can be called up than that of a man betrayed by his body who, simply because he did not die in time, lives out the comedy while awaiting the end, face to face with that God he does not adore, serving him as he served life, kneeling before a void and arms outstretched toward a heaven without eloquence that he knows to be also without depth?"
- Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus: The Absurd Man (via strangeaberration)
"No one, no one in the world had any right to weep for her. And I, too, felt ready to start life all over again. It was as if that great rush of anger had washed me clean, emptied me of hope, and, gazing up at the dark sky spangled with its signs and stars, for the first time, the first, I laid my heart open to the benign indifference of the universe."
- Meursault, The Stranger, Albert Camus. (via crascredemus)
"This I confess under torture. Imaginary torture, perhaps, but all the more horrible."
- Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita (via whyhemightlikeaboutme)
[I still catch myself feeling sad about things that don’t matter anymore.] -Kurt Vonnegut
This, is to the beginnings of the extensive slew of mess- re-documenting a long time past/in between present tense, in the moment passive fragments, long winded ramblings of nothing important and all that means more than words are capable of describing.
-the photograph of myself -whatever I did to the coding of this layout doesn’t like to work well for me. Although, what is written above should be the caption for the photo-post.
writing slightly on a plane/sleep deprivation
via 9/22/12 4:37 PM
You have this idea that disappearing can be easy to release from your mind, and you seem to own a sense of awareness, understanding of those who make it impossible to move to the next moment and drill their feet under the ground, holding on to a nothing, the rare and few.. letting the idiocy rise with lure to a singular person, to a place, and I am drawn to you; there have been only fragmented nonsensical time in between the last round, to find yourself /in the unknown of the familiar, quite possibly is the most terrifying out of anywhere you go, without letting it all seep through, There is no matter or means, just existence within the current.
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contradictions to what you’re doing
via September 19th - California
(fragments of half thought)
What you have told yourself contradicts the state of mind
Lack of caring the inner
Just want to come back to where I already am, passing moment to the later in a disoriented blackbird mind, imagining the time in between breaking cracks in my skull
The..
It’s difficult, sometimes, just within the scattered stories I half told, barely..
It’s easier to write and not think about or be careless, when there is less.. keeping yourself in a place of non attachment to places, people, the rest, for a while, that freedom that is careless, and being so unintentional is what makes it so pure, the only foundation to working through this next quarter of what I know is going to be tipping the limits of my own sanity..is knowing it’s all going to change entirely, that at some point it won’t be real, and if that isn’t enough, there is always somewhere to go as long as you know how to leave.
HELL IS NOT SO LONELY
It’s a fine line to try, not to cross on either side. It’s when what you’re working so hard for, begins to mock you, that you just have to leave and let go, or you just stay somewhere without pleasure, and you disappear into someone you are not, if you don’t care or give up.
There’s just so much energy rising inside myself, with only the idea of home, sick of creating somewhere for myself, being either too nice or too proud for people who want to give up after hitting more than just a single dead end, the desire to see someone succeed turns into something not worth my time.
And then just, trying again. It takes a while, I feel lucky to have a few people close-by to stay with, and just go home to fix whatever damages were done since I’ve been gone. Not that it has meaning unless you give away your own power, there is that overwhelmed feeling that I’ve forgotten about for a while now, when there is so much conflict with all that comes into my mind, all sitting together in a pile of mess.
