...re[vision]...

...Posts...

...phone numbers... :

I don't want to think. I don't want to think about how after all these years after all these beers and girls and "love" I still close my eyes just to see your parents living room. I'm concerned that I don't see you fully in these day dreams. I see the couch and your coffee table, made of rod iron and floor tiles, and the TV we played SNES in front of -- the TV we played Guess Who in front of. I see the sliding glass door I'd walk out of to the patio we'd smoke weed on -- to the light from the neighbors we swore were spying on us having sex. I see the perfect tequila shots you brother would sneak us before he got his job at the hospital. I see the curtains that we'd close daily to hide from the world, the christmas tree and stockings your mother hung, the twenty your dad gave me when he made out good in Vegas. I see the bathroom around the corner from the endless supply of sodas they provided, the paper plates from the best turkey and mustard sandwiches you made. I hate that I close my eyes and see paradise because paradise has become a luxury I'll never feel again. Paradise is living the regrets we said we'd never have to suffer. I hate that I can't see you; not now, not before. I can't remember the expression on your beautifully sick face when I gave you a mix of Coltrane and Montgomery and Gilberto to help you through the relaxing baths; although, I clearly remember how exhilarating it was to make and pass on. I barely remember your touch in the foulable image of the ever watchful celestial creatures that dwelled in those plastic glowing stars on your ceiling fan -- oh, how the clock light excentuated every curve in your spine. I've been through girls, I've been through lonely, I've been through false company and real tragedy.... nothing compares to those memories. Damn you, to have to live through that! To have to realize that I've thrown away life somehow. That existing now can never compare to living then. I don't want to think about it. I don't care to. I'm comdemned to forever remember your phone number (oh, god, what would I do if you had changed that number since?).

Written by eris at 11:47 PM

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...some meaning of creation... :

"Don't call me a cynic, because I'm not."

That's the line that is ringing beyond the whiskey and the Bass drinks.
That, of course, is well combined with the other line from a random weekend with a slightly distant brother:

"Can't be the one getting shit kicked on you. Most of the time, you gotta kick the shit."

It's hard to explain how you become entirely (and somewhat randomly) thrown into a relationship. Years, hopefully not in my reluctant self, later you find that everything is the same. That every girl is a girl and some have found the boundary of womanhood. ...// Oh, to meet A WOMAN -- some feminine goddess that has an opinion about books beyond Barabara Kingsolver and Eckhart Tolle. A WOMAN. One that's read Notes From the Underground, but yet has a soft spot for Harry Potter /// who wears horn rimmed glasses, who votes, who listens to Run DMC and recalls Mitch Hedberg anectodes, that smokes weed and plays billiards, that bets on episodes of the Flavor of Love, and has to work out lists in their blogs to compare the life they believe to be worth living against the failure and fallen regret of the life they currently exist through.

And, that might seem cruel, it might. I might be a horribly selfish individual but there is another quote I've heard. Ghandi said that you should " live the change you wish to see in the world", and how could you disagree? If you believe, fundamentally, that somewhere and some other situation (of any reason) could possibly be better, how could it not be true?

"Man will, in fact, choose what's best for man." Sartre knows that our reptilian brain is what keeps us alive. He, and I, are pretty sure that simply existing is not living. How can I resist the urge to live?-- to touch a new skin, to taste a new taste, to hear a new story. Life should be entirely stories. I want to hear them, to relive them, to envy them. More importantly, I want to create them.

Written by eris at 12:25 AM