Friday, January 12, 2018

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part One Hundred and Twenty-Three


the journey of a rain-drop - what a ride - with every one, i thank the world like a ghost haunting the hallways - creaky floorboards with nothing better to do - the last effort of the first order - trip and fall, splash and crazy, creating life with a zest to end it all - find a vibe, and ride it all the way baby - good or bad, it'll take you somewhere without any priority or expectation - the memories of the last time, the anticipation of the first - a villain to remind you of all your failed endeavours - the image you portray to those who ignore you - a faint sign of effort and care, lost to the insignificant relationships that time takes a dagger to - slits it's throat, and now you're all alone - soaking wet in the rain

there are 3 words that i often get called (not including shit) - they are:

selfish
stubborn
lazy

selfsih: can i start with a phrase/quote i heard from a hero of mine, damien echols - it went something like: the only people who call you selfish are people who are upset you’re not doing what they want you to - that sums it’s up perfectly i think - i think people should be more selfish, or at least less ashamed about the times they are selfish - i want everyone to do as they wish, and as long as that doesn’t hurt anyone, there is no problem - i hate obligation, and i seeing people act under obligation - i hate seeing people act and talk they way they think they should - people forget the power they were given by society when they turn 18 - you can do whatever you like

stubborn: i consider myself a thoughtful person - the beers give me a rest from time to time, as does running, and standing in doorways too - i’ve thought enough to know what makes me happy in this life - it’s likely to change, but i know what i like, and therefore know what i don't like - with that knowledge i have trust, and i keep that as the universe and my thoughts that drift through it never fail me

lazy - you wish you were as lazy as me - i’ve had afternoon naps sleepying beuaty would wake up for - cold air, warm blankets, golden sun, falling leaves, open window - the perfect afternoon nap - a cosy lounge-room sunday spent drifting in and out of sleep - a football game you wont see the end of - waking up to the smell of dinner of cooking - moving slow enough to see the clouds drift and form and move on, no time for sunsets here - i’ll be napping - i’ve spent whole weekends without saying a word, without leaving my house, without wearing pants - i lie on the couch and watch a movie i know word-for-word - i play some music and drink beer, looking at whatever takes place outside the window - leaves, fence, bird, wind, sun, clouds, rain, child learning to ride a brand-new bike and failing, over and over - why do we work so hard? - do we work so hard so that we can work even harder? - just leave me alone

take care, by big star comes on - im sitting in a bus travelling slowly through the outskirts of greater geelong - it’s almost 7pm - the light and atmosphere in the bus is miserable - the people scattered in the seats in front and behind me, just as miserable - out my window, a dark deeper than the suburban darkness im used to - this is geelong  - every now and again, a green neon light catches me eye - i see subway-restaurants, where 16 year old girls sell salad rolls to graffiti-artists and skate-boarders - i think about the words: take care - and i think about the vulnerability of people i know - i see a car in an otherwise empty and isolated car-park, and i assume some guy in a suit is paying someone for oral sex - i flood myself with psychedelic music to try and escape this miserable vibe

im in what they call a "good space" - it's all good space, really - inspired, productive, sleeping and eating well, positive, exercising, drinking, reading, prioritising, writing, keeping things simple, and keeping secrets from social-media - it's the good life they’ll never know

i ate my dinner on the street the other night - im not talking al-fresco, im talking, standing in a doorway, overcoat on, cold and rain, eating a hamburger on the footpath because it was the cheapest and fastest thing to do - it reminded me of mexico city, where i pretended to be kerouac, and acted like morrison - im now thirty-five - no need to pretend anymore - no time either

i see the moon clear on winter nights - hazy clouds moving through a high-wind that i can’t feel - down here, im warmed by the trees and their shadows  - i’m warmed by the tunes and the music i find - it's like a sauce - there are songs that simply engulf me - the thickest warmest blanket you could imagine, on the coldest night of the year - and wood burns perfectly



becoming a father makes your life far more meaningless than ever - the truth is you become a father and you truly understand how meaningless your life is - your life becomes meaningless because you simply don’t care anymore - i was listening to a lot of lou reed, and it was like listening to pale blue eyes for the first time all over again

i often walk past this building, and the way it’s built allows for you to look down to the lower floors below foot-path level - i walk past this building on my way home and often see this young long-haired guy with glasses working his job in front of a computer - i first noticed him when he was resting his head on the desk and possibly asleep - other times he’s browsing the internet - most times he’s just sitting their on his phone wasting time - i often imagine what his perfect job/life would be

when awarded free time, standing in a doorway with a distant stare heading nowhere but the carpet a few feet in front of you is not a waste of time - you are still “making the most of your day” - some people wear black padded vests, new york yankees caps and go out for breakfast, or drive to a winery for lunch and social media photos - but if you want to stand in the doorway and just stare blankly and enter the void and become a part of the nothingness, that’s okay, and just as worthwhile as anything thats handed to you on social media - all that stuff is like a street-vending gym membership being stapled to your forehead by someone who doesn’t realise you run marathons without anyones help

these are the thoughts that wake up in the doorway:

routine silence, crowded by a weird sense of importance - the things we get used to, become our entitlement - holding back and never showing the watchful eye what it really wants to see - what it's expecting to see of you - what it expects you to do and say - the thoughts they see in your eyes - they know it, but can't explain it - love, hate and the hee-bee-jee-bees

my senses tell me everything i need to know - i touch what i need to hear - i taste what i need to smell - i see nothing, but feel it all around me all the time - i removed the door bell - you'll just have to wander and see where you end up - lost and forgotten farms, where the cattle have set things right - you can hide behind that cow, i told her and she laughed - don't take a photo, this always happens and it doesn't matter - we don't need to show the world anything - the universe turns on itself with every breath you give and take, changing the course of a forgotten future, and unwritten history

a satisfactory survival of the fastest and talkative - the slow and mellow and quiet ones will inherent the earth, while the meek run off with your sister - excuse me, while i kill your lies with the ease and comfort of a denim jacket - water off a duck's back, but the weather it clearing up a little - it's time for a walk - so if you see me as you drive by in your car, give a thought to what it is you're doing, and who you're doing it for - it's them who will kill you in the end





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