That High-Pitched Ring Only You Can Hear

Some day I'll understand it all... right? Isn't that the point of fucking life? You sit around and either mope over or ignore your mistakes. You poison your brain with thoughts, circling obsessive thoughts with names like "love" or "HER" or "hate" or "death"or "pain" all the while forcing a smile to your lips whenever someone asks you how you're doing, if you're well, before they turn a half-hearted ear your way for four seconds then walk away, forget you, pushing you out of the path of their obsessive circling thoughts with names like "me" and "greed" and "sex".
Well what's next then, people? Tell me, darling, what voice is it nagging at you to do this, feel that, conform, believe, entertain, support and support and heal the deflated ego at the cost of your pride? What is that little annoying buzz, that high-pitched sound only you can hear? Why is it the grasshopper can't chirp alone without making you resent its life for dragging you out of the trance you became comfortable labeling existence? Why is it that we allow ourselves to be destroyed, to be claimed and owned by things? By people, government, money, religion, trends, society, drugs, clothing, girlfriends, wives, husbands, lovers, disease, laziness, pain, helplessness. All learned helplessness! Why is it that all we consider to be worth anything at all is what crumbles beneath our feet leaving us to grasp at what remains? Those things remaining to own us, break us, destroy us-people, government, money, religion, trends, society, drugs, disease? Does one soul on earth believe in the greater good? That all is love, without love there would be no creation? Without passion, there would be no life, no art, no music, no writing, no Brand New giving me goosebumps by performing "Sowing Season" as I type, completely wrapped up in myself... Without passion there would be no creation. And so it is logical to conclude that if in fact, one were to believe in God, label it creation, and give it a personality, that personality would be characterized by passion...by love. One would assume.
Passion is my new name for god.
I think that instead of living to be owned, to be broken, to be diseased and destroyed and disabled in your own life, there should be an alternative. There should be a venue for hope. There should be more passion, more creation, more love.
So how would one go about spreading such a RADICAL notion? A notion that Septimus Warren Smith himself would raise his eyebrows at, demand an envelope to record it, drive himself to the window to defend and smile knowingly at the one person alive that understands that he could not be owned, could not be labeled or captured or poisoned by people or religion or government or money or drugs or disease or his lover.
How would one go about saying....
Love.
Everything is love.
All things created were created through passion.
All things created were created through love.
All is love.
All is death.
All is reality and delusion.
All that you can ever do is spread it on in the biggest way you can.
Never conform, never BELONG, never believe or become a part of a system not working in the name of love or struggle to fill a role you weren't made for.
How do you go about saying....
DO NOT FEAR.
No inhibitions.
All is love.
Have no fear.
Only through misunderstanding is there hatred.
Only through mistakes is there pain.
Only through mistakes do we learn.
Only through mistakes will we get where we're going, where we're meant to be.
Fear only gets us bought.
Bought by people, government, money, religion, trends, society, drugs, clothing, girlfriends, wives, husbands, lovers, disease, laziness, pain, helplessness.
Fear only gets us controlled.
How do you go about saying...
I love you?
How do you go about meaning it?
By abandoning all fear.
By living love, creation, passion.
All is love.
All is death.
All is reality.
All is illusion.
Before you can truly love any single individual person, you must first embrace all of creation. Embrace passion. Embrace art and music and beauty. Embrace yourself.

Paparazzi

This is the general summary of I how felt on New Year's Eve... I'm not feeling much different but I guess that's probably because I can't fucking eat because of my tooth. It's cause and consequence... Food=me in damn pain...
I'd almost take baby-food sweet potatoes.
Blech.
I wish someone would be kind and feed me!
If you're wondering what that is on my hand, it's a scar. A few years ago I was attacked by a dog on my hand, but that doesn't change my opinion of dogs in general! I just get kinda freaked out if they growl at me. And the only reason I got bitten was because some stupid abusive bitch punched the guy in the head. I made a sudden movement about the same time he decided he was done taking her shit and I don't blame him at all for reacting how he did.
Anyway, I just wanted to put up a few pictures and kind of change the pace I've been going at on these. That last one with me and Sasha I look totally high, but I don't think one vicodin would have that effect on me! I seriously fucking hate pills but the night before that I had to go to the emergency room (I know, poor me, right? :P) and get something for that... Growing up in poverty has disadvantages for your whole life. It doesn't help too much that my parents completely stopped taking us to the dentist when my brother died when I was 11, so I guess I know what to do and what not to do if or when I have children of my own!
God I'm hungry! My mouth doesn't even hurt but I'm thinking about taking a pill just so I get sick to my stomach and don't feel like eating. Maybe just a vitamin or something because it's not really my style to abuse pain-killers, and I know I'll need them eventually, haha.............
Band of the day: The Jennifer Nettles Band
God bless Afterellen!

Happy New Year I guess.

How do you not post on January first? It just wouldn't make sense.
I feel like shit.
Hungover.
Headache.
Toothache.
PMS.
Good times.
An optimistic start to a year bound to bring more of the same.
I'm going to go watch Dexter.
Fuck this game.

Listen to the thoughts as they pass through pale oblivion

sinister thoughts dancing in the air, sparking sparkling thoughts as you lounge behind soft resistant raindrops
scoop towers of firefly wings into familiar variables
whisper to the winds through the empty window panes and fog the glass with your meager, your eager breath
the finished works are worth the wait as you eat your words and bite them through
every new mistake dawns on your soul as black and blue
untrue rewinding machines feign instant clarity
the cost becomes your eyes
the gift becomes useless as you devour the knowledge you acknowledge you've gained in hindsight
re-learned through years of monotonous repetitive existing experience
your voice becomes a subtle inconvenience as your bitterness towards your inadequacy plays a sheep in wolf's skin, mimicking the plight of the predator
retreating into hazy bewilderment when self-discovery leaves you blind
kahlo eyebrows block your sight
yield to the sands of time
an hourglass flipping, tossed in the dark, shattering against a wall of reprise
mememememememememememememememe
the universe
menmenmenmenmenmenmenmenmenmenmen
my captors
moremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremoremore
more metaphors
sorry kids, I'm out.

Unlike you, I am not pretending...

So the song of the day today is Kate Havenvick's "Unlike Me" the "acapella" version. I've decided that it would be a suitable song to die to. (I have the worst toothache of my life right now and although normally I bear through headaches and other ailments without pain pills because I HATE -no, seriously... HATE!- them, I decided today that my poor self couldn't handle it and took 4 generic tylenol... then half an hour later was still writhing in pain and took four more so now I'm feeling pretty decent although I'm also kind of fearing internal bleeding...so if I die... I won't regret hearing a stupid song like soldier boy as the last earthly music that graces my soul...
Any other hypochondriacs in the house should keep a copy of that song handy in case the worst presents itself!
Ugh, this is not getting any easier, and I'm typing all funky. You guys may not notice because I'm trying to catch myself so if it doesn't always work and I offend your eyesight and grasp of the english language I apologize...
Ok... I thought I would take this opportunity to say something important but my train of thought is just not cooperating... if I die... well... all I can say is... thank god.

Help, I have done it... again...

So I've been listening to Sia's "Breathe Me" all day... I can't get it out of my head. I'm sure listening to it obsessively doesn't help a whole lot but it's sooooo pretty... It really kinda depresses me in a way though... It's like if I let myself listen too hard, I just kinda put myself right in her place and it gets overwhelming because I'm just that kind of a douche bag...
Even douche bags get lonely sometimes... You'd just have to be there I guess...

Be my friend.
Hold me.
Wrap me up.
Unfold me.
I am small..
and needy.
Warm me up...
and breathe me...

Yeah, so I just listened to the chorus and thought I would note that...
Maybe it depresses me because it's fucking DEPRESSING!!!
Just a thought...

Anyway... Sia= Genius.
Amanda= Dumbass because she started to spell "genius" "GI."
hah.

The God of Destruction

So I just spent like a half an hour trying to remember how to log into this damn blog... I'm so horrible about these things. I've probably got four thousand profiles I don't remember how to log into cluttering up cyberspace. Oh well, I guess it's expendable, right? It's not like I have to feel like shit when I get junk mail, because it's not responsible for the massive destruction of the forests... I don't have to recycle spam, I just have to click "delete" and the very substance of its entire existence becomes obsolete. I become totally responsible for taking something out of existence completely.
I become the God of Spam Destruction.
You know, until the same bullshit ad pops up a week later in a different format.
But besides that, who cares? You're the god! You can remove it totally! Just like if I were to decide this blog was no longer worthy of your pretty little eyes... I could delete it. And you would have no chance at ever seeing these words again for as long as you live unless you decided beforehand that it's important enough to save separately and print, which none of you are pathetically in love with me enough to do- in fact, I don't have any readers as far as I know so who am I to say that anybody but myself will EVER read these things? If I wanted to cop out and go "Myspace Blog," I could and I know I'd have a bunch of people interested, but I'm not looking for that... I guess I want somewhere unbiased to vent. And what's the point of publicly writing something semi-personal or "too serious" when you know exactly what kind of reaction you're going to get? That doesn't strike me as an activity worth my time any more. I guess I just don't care anymore about who thinks what, and I need something to do to keep me busy and balanced and a little alone with the off chance of attracting someone's attention. I really couldn't give less of a fuck who I attract, because all the best things seem to happen accidentally and I don't have room in my mind for people I don't care about...
I'm so positive.
Anyway, I got pissed off today because I was trying to edit my profile on afterellen.com and when I tried to hit submit to save the changes, it took me to this page that said "access denied" and I couldn't do anything about it. And stupid me forgot to save what all I wrote even though the same thing happened yesterday!
Jesus Christ.
The dog just chewed up the inside sleeve of my coat.
This is really turning out to be my day.
Or night.
Or something.
God I'm bored.