Back To SaM Describe Säm here.
<jazkharma> so I've decided that I need to formulate my brain twitches into words more... I think I have a somewhat sensable world view, it's just totally incohearant at this point cause I haven't taken it out of the maze I call my head in too long... it really needs to get a tan. Being that this page is inspired by the same one who gave me the name säm, I thought it fitting to name the page säm. (thank you for the inspiration girl, now loan me some of your writing grace!) 4:38am March/04/2001 Thoughts so deep, with meaning full, oh the mem-or-ies they stir, Where have my deep thoughts gone? my past is such a blur, I never thought I found the answers, and yet I have moved on, When ancient children, (old as me) stir memories of times gone, I wonder how it is I feel, so doubtless and at ease, I've not found god nor meaning, just a lesser need of these, Not reached the goal, but left the path, and miss it I do not, Goals beyond my chance to reach, are a blessing to have forgot, Imperfection is fine with me, for it's how I've been designed, A human being is naught but atoms, over others no more devine, What I've come to realise, of this world which we call home, Is that my beliefs, truthes and oppinions, are none but my own, I'm not backed by god, nor shunned by god, but seen for what I am, A selfishly selfless renagade, who's sometimes known as sam. more meandering walks through my skull later, I'm damn near incohearant. 2:52pm. March/04/2001 Longevity is the bane of Humanity.
2:52
I don't take wealth to mean mearly money, I live my life rich. I live my life as it makes sence to me, for me, and by me. I'm living lies, obvious to others, and I'm living truths that you personally are flat blind to. ...and by tomorrow (by ten minutes from now) I'll have changed half of them. Sometimes it truely seems my belief structure changes with my mood. But that's cause I have many different moods, and many differnet truths, and I've abandoned the one-size-fits all concept so thoroughly that I no longer even believe one size fits one. The mind is capable of infinity, it mearly sets limits for itself to stay "sane." I don't take orders from mother culture on what sane is. I try not to anyway... at least... when I'm not too lazy. Chapter 17: Nothingness.
"If you took an orange, and blew it up to the size of the planet earth, then one of the atoms of that orange would be about the size of a cherry. If you blew that cherry up to be the size of the dome at St. Peter's, you might just be able to make out the nucleus of the atom in the center. Around the dome is where the electrons would be spining, still to small to see, and space inbetween... is emptyness." would you believe I heard that in a class on Theraputic Touch? 7:11pm I'm restless and lyrical. I want to drive down a back road at 90mph in the dark listening and singing along to horrible music so loud its making me def, horribe music which will then be forever beloved, and dripping with nastalga.
3:30am "what in god's name..." "Pay no mind to his messed up hair
Pay no mind to the clothes he wears
It's just the hours he's been keepin'
Ain't been doing too much sleeping
They dyed his hair and hid his feathers
And told him he was Latin
'Til he came chanting down the street
Like a cannibal in Manhattan
Rattlebone
Rattlebone
Shake it for the war chief
All night long
Rattlebone
Rattlebone
Sweet medicine
To each his own
One sky above
One earth below
One sky above us
One earth below
Rattlebone
Rattlebone
Shake it for the war chief
All night long
Rattlebone
Rattlebone
Sweet medicine
To each his own
Here's where we go off the map
Out past the power lines
Up that little side road without a sign
Hidden from the mainstream
The keepers of the ancient future
Keepers of the drum
They don't preserve it
They live it
Rattlebone
Rattlebone
Shake it for the war chief
All night long
Rattlebone
Rattlebone
Get down on your knees
And praise the dawn
Rattlebone
Rattlebone
Shake it for the war chief
All night long
Rattlebone
Rattlebone
Sweet medicine
To each his own"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Why?What in God's name inspired this? I took a walk tonight, and after a couple miles I stopped still, and looked around me. It was 1:30am, cloudy, and I could see everything within a hundred yards fairly clearly. All the lights of the city reflecting against the clouds, not to mention the lights near me. I looked up to a towering street light, (the construction and mantinance of which is beyond my comprihension) and then I looked under it, at a tree. A fairly short, perfectly manacured tree, blooming white flowers. These trees are all over this area. They stink, they aren't much to look at the 50 weeks out of the year that they aren't blooming, and they've all been planted. By people. For god knows why. I looked down. I had been walking down the middle of the street. A 20ft wide swath of blacktop, created and maintained by vast amounts of human time and effort. I looked around again. Buildings... buildings... buildings... even the landscape itself was obviously altered by man. the slope of the lawns, the lawns themselves... I realised I was most likely looking at serveral human lifetime's worth of effort. Why!?not a bit of it was created for beauty, or joy, or love. Everything in my field of view was effected by man, for the soul(less) purpose of continuing ...Continuing What??? ...and there are good reasons... there are things worth keeping... but do we do the things we do for those things? not really... we do things because that's how thing's are done. We do it because it's our holy duty. Having enough food to eat all the time... that's a good thing... having a warm sheltered place to sleep... that's a good thing. There's a few others too... but do we do it for that? not really. we do it because it's the only thing we know to do. and to abandon the rat race is to abandon... life as we know it, or could even imagine it. To truely abandon the rat race would be to abandon everything. To obandon life itself.
March, 5.
My past is gone. It's drifted, dimmed, departed. Gone. I've worked it to the ground, thought it into oblivion, focused my attention so hard on holding onto it that I didn't notice when it slipped out of my clenched fist. My past beyond a month feels like so long ago... beyond two months ago seems like ancient history... beyond 5 months seems hardly like it could even be my history, but a book I read perhaps... past 14 months is like a book someone read to me as a child. How does one get old if one's temporal reality seems to end 6 months in either direction? All that I strived for in those years was her, and us. All the things I learned were by, for, and of us. And now not only is us no more, but my yearning... nay, my very belief in the concept of an us, my belief the possibility of forming such an us with another someday, is nearly gone. I feel I have learned nothing. I am not me + what I've learned so far in my life, I'm simply a new me... my first 18 1/2 years are a past life; I was killed last October, reincarnated through the winter, conceived in January, and set to come out of the womb next fall. I know so many things, and all of those things are from a past life. I don't know why I know them, how I know them, or whether they will be true or even relevant in my new life. I spent five years of my life trying to plan forever, only to have existence change so immensely that I must start all over, knowing nothing of how to be. All I still know how to do is hide. And my mother's leg isn't big enough anymore. *check myslef* Self-deprication? SELF-DEPRICATION??? WHAT WAS I THINKING???I don't DO self-deprication.
*11:33* I've been having flashbacks lately, to former parts of my life. Maybe flashbacks is too strong a term, but shimmerings of memories. little things keep reminding me of other times and other places. My mind is rewriting all my history from a new perspective... or maybe it's just reminding me of who I've been and who I am by filling me with ghosts of emotions I used to have, about people I used to know.
I sit here in discust, realising that for lack of a lover I'm writing my deepest thoughts to a non-existent everyone. Infinite people, none of whom exist. And any who should happen to exist once in a while, totally foreign to my brain. You don't understand a word I've said. She listened to me for two years, till she'd heard every phrase I've ever uttered five times over, and many things were still beyond her to comprihend. But at least she listened. At least she existed. *10:27, March 23* *10:26, March 24* Oh the nostalgia. I've been reading http://www.nbtsc.org/guestbook.html ...the first few entries are from my birthday... my 16th birthday. (I'll be 19 in about 3 weeks.) It's scary. anyway... here's a rant I posted on there 12-31-98. RantNegativeOne *ten minutes later*
"the way you're bathed in light, reminds me of that night, god laid me down into you're rose garden of trust, and I was swept away, with nothin' left to say, some helpless fool yeah I was lost in a swoon of peace, you're all I need to find, so when the time is right, come to me sweetly, come to me, come to me."
*far too late, class in eight and one half hours plus I need a shower*
Dearest Girl, Re-liver of my pain. Knower of my soul. Why must you go and come into existance? Why now? Why there? Just as I'm possibly, perhaps, probably maybe, moving on to bigger and better things, moving onto happyness, to twisted contendment with my discontent... Why must you go and be the first person to understand where I've been, just as I'm leaving? Just to prove how far I've come, just to prove I don't need a you anymore... just to prove how much I still do... Just to prove how much I still need, and how much I more than ever can't.
Companion in my lostness. What I would have done for a companion in my lostness before, when I wasn't old and bitter, when I didn't believe I knew better, when I still believed in finding what my desperation yearns for.
I need a Rolfing session. I need deep psoas work. I need to unlearn everything I know, I need to unbelieve everything this life has taught me since my 6th month in in the womb. I need to return to a pare of Zygotes and start over.
My devine optimism was right. My dreams where possible. They Still Are. My life was out of my control. I was deamed too young to deside where to be. Never again. The next time something right comes along, I will take it. I have the right to take it. I'm allowed. I'm not so bad. I won't always fuck it up. I could be a good thing in someone's life. I could be just what someone wants. There could be a person who can take my intensity. There could be a someone who is starving for my intensity. There must be someone I wouldn't smother! Please, Please, Please god let there be someone I won't hurt in the end!! Please let there be someone who can't get enough of me!! "IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK???"
Oh lord this entire album is making more sence than it has in 5 years.
*Saturday March 31, barely... (12:31am)*
I'm reexamining growing up. I'm reexamining what I have to do to be an adult. I don't think it is what I thought it was... I'm... experienced. I'm... knowledgable. I'm... world-wise. I've... thought about a ton of things on an incredibly deep level. I'm... considerably more than people think I am. Life... is considerably more than I thought it was. I'm... very good at dealing with intencely bad things. Life... is actually supposed to have long stretches without very bad things. Some of those people who apear to be happy... actually are. I... have purpose. And... nobody else has to think my purpose is worthy. I can say no... to girls. wow... if I can say no for the first time... saying yes would mean something a bit more now! I can sit next to incredibly beautiful people and just enjoy it... not yearn for something "more."
*9:41pm, April Negative Oneth.* You aren't the epidomy of a girl, girl. You're not the epidomy of a lover-of-me. You're not the epidomy of a human. You're not my better half. You're not my anything half. You're not the epidomy of my future. You are the epidomy of my past. You represent where I've been. But I'm full of you. I've learned all I have to learn from you, and you've done the same with me. We had more than some have in 40 years of marrage. ...and there's a reason for reincarnation. New Beginings. My problem is that before you, I didn't know where I was, where I was going, or why I would want to go anywhere. I'm at the birth of my fourth long eon of this lifetime, the first of blessed ignorance, the second of dreadful longing, the third of you... Too much a cynic to believe in anything else, I believed in love, I believed in you, and my devotion gave me reason & purpose. Now in my Fourth Age, what shall my purpose be? Shall I suddenly find belief in something else, or only loose my belief in love. ...I think there's more to find... but maybe there's another abiss to cross before I get there. Thank you for being my history. We had a lot to learn from eachother and we've learned it well. ~sam sighs~ Either that or I just don't like shopping for womens clothing all day.
*11:26pm*
Okay god... now that I've got that straightened out, could I have a bit of fun till I move, and then perhaps meet someone entirely more extrordinarily right for me than I've ever really imagined? *Tuesday, April 03*
Let me sing to you a lullaby, my little social butterfly, promiser of love, who swore that I would never cry. Let me sing to you of love, of forever and of intent, let me sing to you of passion, let me tell you what I meant. I meant that I would marry you, I meant to give to you a child, I meant I would make love to you, and forever drive you wild. I meant that I would cherish you, for exactly who you are, I didn't exaggerate similarities, I knew us to be different by far. I meant I'd always love you, for all your little quirks, and give you a lover's steady hand, as well as other perks. But then you had to change, and you found yourself another guy. you're the one who lost faith, before we could ever truly try. You couldn't take my silence, you couldn't take my intensity, you couldn't take my solitude, nor live up to what you meant to me, Now you cannot seem stand, this person I've always been, for I've always been a renegade, and you want me to blend in. You pride yourself on caring, and for your sensitivity, but cruel you are and careless, to those who love you 'nough to let you be. For so long you said you loved me, for so long you truly cared, but then so long you kept me, after the love had disappeared. So I'll never sing you another lullaby, my little social butterfly, for my love remained the same, whilst yours became a lie. I'll never sing you another lullaby, you little social butterfly, for my poetry stayed true, 'tis just your ears that chose to die. I'll never sing you another lullaby, you little social butterfly, for my truth remains the same, but you've gone to live another lie. *now.* I don't want a normal life. I don't want a normal relationship. (no bitch, I don't blend well, why would I want to?) I have never and will never like polite society. I've learned to see the point to polite society, but it's mostly a lie, and I have no interest in being part of it for it's own sake, only for necessity. I don't like fatalist crack whores any better though, being unpleasant just for the hell of it is no better. Disassociating from comfort and joy to disassociate from plastic smiles is a bad move if you ask me. I don't call myself a tribalist, I hate capitalism and see currency and ownership as two ingenious concepts, I'm not socialist, I'm not anarchist, I don't claim to be pasifist, I'm not vegitarian, I was raised unitarian but I rarely even lable myself as such anymore. I lable myself all the time, but I'm only talking, the only simple lable that's ever fit me is "rogue" and that's not even accurate. I'm a straight, white, middle class, american male. I don't claim heritage, and I don't let others claim it if I can help it, they aren't their ancestors, they are themselves, and probably more closely 2001 american than anything ethnic. I love hip-hop, but you don't know what that means to me, I love native american spiritualism, but you have far less of an idea what that means to me, I love eastern philosophy, but that short phrase too, says less than nothing. I make everything my own. When I write lyrics I don't care what form they are in, and I don't care who "invented" the style they may apear to be, style is not owned, style would be as imposible to copywrite as accent. I do not have a culture, I have a so-called boiling pot of cultures that I have grown up surrounded by, some closely, some distantly, but none of them are mine and I belong to none of them. To my eyes I take most of who I am from one culture or philosophy or another, but undoubtably experts in those philosophies would tell me I had it all wrong, and was obviously another white guy who just wanted to claim part of their minority. I take walks through the urban jungle at 2am Group dynamics make me sick. I've had a lifetime obsession with finding a lover, and yet I have no idea how I would or why I would want to share my life with someone I loved on that regular a basis. I cherish my solitude. I coined the phrase "Anti-sociopathic" to try to ephisize the extremity of my hatred for group dynamics. I do love intence one-on-one contact, I take great joy in it infact... but garbage disposal and bathroom cleaning are hardly the things I want to share with a lover... maybe there's a reason I've only once kissed anyone who lived less than 50 miles away from me. Me and my ex were always better desert to each other than meat and potatoes (so to speek). When I'm done in this school, with it's high opinion of itself and it's cirtifications from 4 seperate highly respectable boards and commities, I'm going to pay off my depts and then I'm not going to waist my time earning more money than I need. I'm not going to become a upstanding citizen. I'm not going to move to the suburbs and live with a perpetual plastic smile, or move to the ghetto and devote myself to never ending "social work." I'm going to find friends who would rather walk for hours through the dark quiet streets at 2am, comming up with plans we will never follow through on to conquer a world we have no interest in controling. I'm going to find friends who would rather play hackysack, and freestyle rap so badly a vanilla ice fan would cringe. I'm going to dwell in the shadows, dressed in black, terrifying those who've never left the confines of florecent lighting and believing commercials, (little will they realise that by daylight I present my trade in a way the most high-healed suburbanite can find respectable and profesional... little will they realise that it is profesional, and highly trained. Little will they realise my ability for internal contradiction.) No one will be remaking me in their image again. No one will be taking me shopping as entertainment and teasing me for not enjoying it. No one will wisper "I love you" in one ear whilst condemning who they know me to be in the other. I won't be allowing that again. *14 minutes till I'm an old fart*
I've been focussed on myself as of late... funny that sounds so much like self-centered, and yet has and entirely different meaning, at least mostly. I've been finding myself fascinating... and much easier to get along with than anyone else... there's always a limit to how close I can get to anyone else, no matter what. (I'm not sure that bothers me so much any more.) I suppose that's the key, I'm the only one who ever can understand myself entirely, and isn't that what I've always wanted? someone to understand me in my entirety? and here I've been ignoring the only person capable of that. And if I know my own truths, I can explane them to people who can hear it, and easily see when someone simpley won't be able to comprihend something. Perhaps having one other person who can understand me isn't the point, perhaps having a lot of other people who each understand a bit of me is the point... perhaps... just perhaps... the key to it is understanding that I don't have to run personal truths by anyone to legitimize them. I wonder what I just wrote... I can't remember, the music is too loud. Three Minutes to go. One of the beautiful girls is going to bring me a cake in the morning, she insisted. Silly girl. Beautiful girl. Another beautiful girl came over to practice muscle assessments this evening, it was delightful, it was grand, everytime I massage her neck she asks me to marry her. She's as flighty as a bumble-bee... I calm her down and she's apriciative, it's a delightful thing, it really is. But then she goes right back to tripping over her own thoughts. Silly girl... beautiful girl. Then there's the one who sits in front of me and borrows my colored pencils in A&P class. She's in my roommate's class... he says she's so flexable she can put her foot behind her head. She's cute, she's sweet, she's wicked, she looks to know how to have a lot of fun, she ain't innocent, but she has a soul too... I think she's grand. I wish she would laugh at the world a little more though. It's a damn good thing I'm finding myself so fascinating lately, or I'd be making a fool of myself for that one. Silly girl. Beautiful girl. This is just so cool! For the first time in my life I can see and smoothly flow into the best way to relate with each person I meet, rather than be blinded by a strangling need for someone to fill some vaguely defined void in my soul.
I think 19 might not be so bad... but I'm going to enjoy the last few hours of 18. yeah yeah, it's been the 13th for 39 minutes, but see... if I count it by exact time, I've got a few more hours to frolic.
IRC Snipit (me speeking): "here's my problem, if you define 'stupid' and 'male' as synonomus, and then tell me I'm an exception, then you're telling me I'm okay because I supress my maleness, and behave in a proper and cultured manor. I have no interest in supressing any part of myself, and I have no interest in behaving in a proper and well groomed manor." *April 23, past midnight but not tomorrow yet* I need to meet someone who knocks my socks off.
no one will do till I move, before then it's pointless. but once I get where I'm going... I'd really like to meet someone who totally knocks my socks off... there's really only been... wow... no, I won't even mention the depressingly dismle number of people who've really really knocked my socks off in the last couple years. on the lighter (or somethinger) side, I was lying in bed the other night, and I noticed that I wouldn't especially like to have anyone lying next to me. It would be annoying. and tedious. They would expect things. They would take up bed space. They would make it too f**king hot to sleep. It's ironic, I never really did get to be in a relationship where those physical needs were fulfilled, (once in three months never felt like much) but... in a way it's enough in hindsight - I know what it's like to have someone as addicted to touching me as I am to them. I know what it's like to do little else but touch, kiss, and talk to another person (heads so close most of the time all you can see is half of their face, all else is blocked from your vission) I know what it's like to do that for 13 days straight... I know what it's like to realise that sitting several feet apart and playing cards would be a very nice relief from the proximity. I still yearn for someone to knock my socks off, I still yearn for someone to want to spend grand amounts of time with, talking, kissing, just being in the same general vasinity... I no longer wish to die of lover overdose. I understand needing space. I understand putting my own self first. What a fucked up way to be. What a mature way to be. What a usefull way to be. What a staggeringly intellegent way to be. My 14 year old self would be appalled. My 14 year old self is appalled. Whoa... there goes de-ja-vu again... a lot of that recently, I must be waking up or something. Or does that mean I'm asleep? The music is my meditation. | Enters my ears. | Calms my mind. | Twitches my feet. | Vents my Rage. | Twists the dagger around in my heart. | Duct tapes the wings back on my soul. | Makes the time pass. | Makes the time stand still. | Zen and the Art of music. | I would write the book. | Except it would have to be a song. *to have lost my virginity making sweet infatuated love, is that too much to ask?* That's what I wanted – seduction by girl as innocent as me, both of us 15 or 16. Not knowing what would happen, or what it meant, just that the moment was right, just knowing it was time. But Reality Strikes Again. I wasn't innocent at age 16, and both me and the girl had the habit of thinking things through too well for our own good. What was it like, you might wonder, two years later, same girl, when she finally decided she was ready...? It was like eating a fermented kiwi that you'd been watching every day and antisepating, but which you somehow misjudged the ripeness of horribly. It had reached perfect ripeness a year and a half before, and we enjoyed it's sent and put it in the fridge to wait. But it went bad before we got to it. We ate it to fulfill the dreams, and we didn't realize how far past it's sell-by date it was till the aftertaste hit. Then the whole hollowness of it hit her in one blow, and she gagged, spit my heart out on the sidewalk, and walked away. I picked it up, and have been washing it clean ever since, as best one can wash a bloody piece of swiss cheese, in the shape of a rose. *My mother would call it god's time: when the clock ticks slower.* Girl Girl Girl... You have a beautiful future you know. A beautiful life to behold. I love the way that you see things. I love the sound of your soul. I've been many places you are, I've thought meany thoughts that you think, I've been to lover's delerium, and I've been to the edge of the brink... Life doesn't get "better" persay, "ease" would not be the word, but when you get in your groove, things begin to go smooth, and it's swoofter than you might have heard. Happily ever after is probly a myth, for good's always balanced by rotten, but restarts are real, and as bad as they feel, a while later you will have forgotten. One forgets the misery, One forgets the pain, One looks back at one's life and says "My god that's insane!" Evolutions and metamorpheses will hit your blind side when you least expect it, they are hell, but they are god. Hormones or lovers or parents or birthdays dump you on your head and won't let you be as you were... and you scream, you cry, you contemplate chopping off fingers but for lack of will power you fall and decompose into a puddle, a lonely, cold, acidic puddle in a grimy pothole on a deserted road. But after a bit you realise you aren't going to die. And then you begin to see the posibilities. When things change enough to rattle you, they change totally, because you look at your life and see all the parts you didn't like anyway, but felt like you needed to grasp for dear life. And you realise that you aren't going to die even thought you seem to have lost every one of those things. And you have nothing left to loose. And noone can tell you you have to do things one way or another, because all the things people have told you like that have gotten you here, and they were all wrong; because they were not you, and so they can't know what's good for you the way you do if you're honest to yourself. And so you rebuild your life, and you weed out all the crap you don't like, and you ignore the people who stare in horror at your sacraledge of mother culture, you ignore those who think they know what's right for you and don't even live up to their own standards. And you settle into a new way of being. And it gets normal. And you still have to take out the trash. And you still have to wash the dishes. And you get grumpy and feel that nothing has changed. And then you get a glimpse of your old life, and you relise everything has changed. And you have a moment of silence for the things and people you've lost, and then you bask in the glory reincarnation without dying. And you live your life. And it's not perfection, but the terror isn't there they way it was, because you've been to you're own personal hell and back. You know you're made of tougher stuff that anyone could believe. You know you could lose everything you're hanging onto so desperatly, and you could start over again if you had to. And so you loosen your grip a little on those things. And life flows like honey across your tongue. And you take joy in the good bits, and you bitch about the bad bits, because you can, and bitching is fun, and when people take you too seriously you just laugh, because cleaning a toilet is like cheese cake compared to what you've gone through. You bitch to tease life for still giving you shit, and you bitch to tease youself for being so picky. And life goes on. And it's just as tedious most of the time, but you can't take your fatalist side so seriously anymore, even when you wish like mad that you could. *innocence lost at such a cost shall return to cure the burns and make the world pretty again* I remembered happy today. I slept till 1pm, was ready to go on time, put my life force towards the well being of two clients, had a great conversation with a classmate inbetween those two massages cause the middle client didn't show, and then I road home. I road home in the cool slight breaze of a may 11th in georgia, in the dark ends of twilight, along a windy road, in a convertable. That is my favorite part of fridays now, and I told her as much, and she stopped in the middle of the road, half a block from my house, to open the roof for my benifit. She let me out and I told her we should hang out sometime, and I walked around the car to give her a hug, and we held the hug that half second longer than just any hug would have been, and I could only manage a glancing eye contact as I said goodbye and goodweekend to her, for fear that she might see what was in my eyes. I grabbed my bag and headed in. Ten steps closer to the front gate I did a little skip of delight and clacked my heals together in mid air, secretly hoping she was looking back just in time to see it. I don't know what will happen with this girl, I don't know if anything more that friendship with delight secretly twining through my brain will happen, but I will enjoy it anyway, I will enjoy the innocence of it, and the cozy humming tone of voice I can take seriously from my own throat when I talk to this girl. And I will listen to Tori Amos again, and be innocent in the face of a planet full of shame. Cought a light sneeze... *too much, to know, too soon, bad wisdom...* I learn, I grow, I evolve, I make tremendous progress, and I find myself on a much higher level of exactly where I started. I'm sitting on a cloud, staring down with eagle vision at exactly the same damn piece of grass I was born next to. *Sunday, May 20. 7:48am*
www.bushwatch.com ^--- My new favorite source for interesting details on our presedent's idiocy, check it out. *note to the happy, who wish to be optimistic and joyus about everything in this world...* The president is a pig fucker, our world culture is heading towards asured mutual destruction without bothering with nukes, not even NPR has enough spine to cover anything newsworthy anymore, washing the dishes still sucks as much as it ever has, angry music still makes me happy, bitter lyrics still content my fury, the nicest people I know still have those moments when I just want to stab them in the eye with a pointy stick and run them through the Mr. Scrooge treatment till they realise what arrogant careless fucks they can be and get some real humility, you and I are likely to make so much difference that not a damn thing changes, because the masses don't want to change, and half of them seem to think that we're supposed to fuck the world because then judgement day will happen and they can all go on their marry way to heaven, whilst the rest of us burn for a few eons. So take note you fucking polite pricks who think I'd be better off as cheery and delighted as you are at the sight of every budding flower that wouldn't be there without a half gallon of pesticides. Take note. I'm a bitter, cynical, jaded, sarcastic, angry, son-of-a-bitch when I want to be, and when I'm in that mood I like it that way. Fuck off. *but see, my real problem is that my outside and my inside get in cat fights and refuse to be on speeking terms sometimes. may 24, 1:21am* Point A: I'm not doing so good at expressing all of myself in public lately. Point B: that because I'm in massage school, living in a version of me designed for being at massage school. Point C: living a version of myself at school is apropriate. Point D: I want someone I can share all of myself with. Point E: that never has happened and most likely never will, not in the way I mean. Point F: what I really need is several groups of people to associate with who I can show different sides to, cause no one person or group is going to be a place I can comfortably express all of me. Point G: I don't have that. Point H: that's because I'm in the suburbs with no car, and will be moving cross country soon, and have been in that or an equally bad-for-building-a-life sort of situation for 2 years+. Point I: When I get to seattle I'm going to do two things. Point J.1: I'm going to build up a good professional career as a deep tissue massage therapist. Point J.2: I'm going to learn seattle like the back of my hand, and meet as many fucking people as I can. Point K: I'm not going to try to behave like the same person to everyone, because the fact is there's a hell of a lot to me and I'm not going to stuff any of it to be "professional" at all times in case I meet a potential client. Point L: God Damn I'm going to enjoy living nearish to a university district. Point M: I Will Find Ways To Let The Bits Of Me That Have Been Stuck Sketching Plans On The Inside Of My Skull Out! Point N: I can charm as well as james, and it's not a bad thing to do. Point O: Me Want Fun. Point P: Me Will Find Fun. Point Q: when I get to seattle I can wear my fun t-shirts. Point R: Wanting a lighthearted relationship full of wild monkey sex for a while, is not a bad thing. Point S: I'm going to dance midst pot smoke and drunk people till I get sick of it, however long or short that takes. Point T: The South Is fucking with my head more than I think, and several things will be nicer when I've got it out of my system. Point U: Life is long, and I'm the only person who will be around for every bit of mine, one does not have to interact with every person one meets as someone who might be around forever. Point V: As much as I've seen and experienced in my 19 years, I need to let loose as much as all the college freshmen who run across campus naked a few times. Point W: I used to be slightly less socially innept than my brother, what the hell happened to that? he's a goddamn scientist, he's supposed to be a dork. Point X: James can bite me, for several reasons that aren't worth trying to explane to him. Point Y: That new student in the May class can bite me too, but she can bite me for entirely different reasons, and in entirely different ways. (woooo!) Point Z: Oh Drat, I have to be cohearant in the morning. *thursday, may 31, 4:21am* "The laaand of the freeeeeeeeeeee, [after mail in rebate, not counting rent, food, insurance, or clothing, before taxes, plus shipping & handling.] and the hooooome of the braaaaaaaaaaaave [that is to say, the brave, the destitute, and those who hire an accountant.]" *tuesday, june 05, 11:36pm* <sam> you know, you get out of something what you put into it... I think it's about time I start putting a bit more into this school than all this money I don't have, cause if that's all I put in, all I'll end up with is more money I don't have.*june 21* Oh, to be a witness, To listen as she cries, Oh, to be a witness, Hear your soul pour through your eyes. Oh, to be a witness, Hear the stories that unfold, Oh, to be a witness, Hear the traumas left untold. Oh, to be a witness, To the cruelty of this world, Oh, to be a witness, To the darkness on this mural. The things I've seen with these eyes, The things I've heard through these ears, The stories that only I know, Of pain, sorrow, and fear. The things I've seen with these eyes, The things I've heard through these ears, I am overwhelmed with honor, To be a witness to your tears. I am overwhelmed with honor, To be a witness to your tears. *june 24*
What's behappening of me? Who did I become this? and why am I becoming just the oposite of eachother, depending on who you ask? I guess it's Growneduphoodishness, I guess it's all good. I guess I don't have to care when it's them, and don't care to care when it's thother. Some look up to me, some look drown on me, but rare few can see who I've been becaming recently. The downings get old quick, and the uppings get quick old, but the girl on my desktop, she's my godless, cause to her I'm not existable, cause in all her pictsurpassing nude beautiferousness, she's a 47kb file who can't think nor judge.
Elliot Abrams, a guy who pleaded guilty to involvement in Iran Contra, who got pardoned by George Bush Sr. about 2 weeks before Bush Sr. left office, just got apointed to lead the national securty counsil's office for democracy, human rights, and international operations. *9:07am yes, I did say "am" and no, I didn't just get up.* She was... everything. I had forgotten that. I needed too. but it's my history. it's important. I've been trying to deal with where I am and deside where I'm going, whilst cutting off my memory at a few months ago. My recent assertion that I'm finally putting other things before love is obviously true, cause I haven't let into my head what love really is in months. There's a reason she surprised me so... I never expected anyone that good to return it. ...and there was a reason I felt that way. She really was that good. Very few people are. She isn't even anymore. Who she's become can bite me for the most part, the new parts. The old parts are still there but somehow irrelivent, ignored, or just built on top of. But I still love the girl she was, and there's still a whole where that girl fails to exist on a regular basis. I think I still hold people up to the groking I felt with her, and very few people come close to matching it. which is part of why I haven't been chasing after anyone. And besides, matching it wouldn't cut it anymore, to make me believe it I think I'd have to find someone who'd knock the grok we had out of the water. Or maybe that's just cause there's so much more of me to grok than there was 3 years ago. I'm constantly listing off all the things that will never merge in another human being, let alone someone cute, single, born within a geologic milisecond of me, and whom I will actually ever meet. Unitarian unschooler philosopher martial artist massage therapist? and that's not even getting into the finer details. but that's not even so much the point. A rare few people even have the slightest inkling of an understanding of how I tick (not to mention the rareness of people I really understand worth a damn.) Meeting people is a bitch, getting to know them is worse. I don't even remember how it happened with becca. oh yeah... it was that god damn internet + long distance shite. We met, and then we got to flirt and talk about the depths of our souls like we'd never done before for three full months before we got blindsided by love. Too bad people fit into one of two catagories these days: busy and too fucking serious and concerned with mundane details of life, like being "productive", or jailbate who live with their parents in some state far far away. Long distance love affairs can bite me, but the question that remains then, is will I ever fall in love with someone who I want to share washing dishes and cleaning the bathroom with? ...and is that really a very good combination? Will there be someone who is attractive, who I can have a deep, meaningfull, spiritual connection with, and at the same is someone I could actually stand to interact with on a day to day level, dealing with the mundanities of life? I just fucking moved out of my mother's house half a year ago, the last thing I need is some newer, younger woman I love nagging me about things I'm really quite content to ignore and procrastinate about. The only time I stop talking about my past is when you get me started on my future. That's because I rarely ever actually enjoy the present all that much, at least not compared to dreamy eyed nestalga or inspired vissions of a future so bright I've gotta wear shades. I think that's why I made such a good longdistance lover. I'm great at dreaming. I'm not really feeling that pesamistic right now actually. Truth is I don't find that way of being all that pesamistic. It's not so big a problem as the bhudists would lead you to believe. So i'm a fucking discontent. Look around. Is there some good reason I shouldn't be? No. anyway... "I cherrish my solitude" I told my mom that once and she never let me forget it, cause it's true. It's not so much the unitarian-unschooler-martial-artist-massage-therapist-whatever-the-fuck-else-was-on-this-list-a-few-lines-back that would confuse the crap out of a lover, it's what an optamistic-jaded-charazmatic-bitter-talkative-sarcastic-upbeat-cynical-reclusive-people-person I am. I like being ignored by most of the people most of the time. I can hide when I want to. and nobody else thinks it's their "problem to fix" when I keep doing things I bitch about, and fail to reach any of my dreams. my dreams aren't there to come true, they're there to be dreams, that's what they're for, when they come true then they're real, and they have to conform to daily life's monotony, which usually dulls them enough to just leave me even more bitter. and don't you worry, I have a very steady head for what I'm actually doing in my life right at the moment, and where I'm actually going to end up going. I usually do you know. I just talk like I'm going to hike to the moon next week to retrieve the godlike experience I had three years ago. I do this because it's fun. I do this because it's more interesting most of the time than day to day reality. Consider this behaviour to be in a long and prestigeious line of things humanity has done/made to pretend the world is more interesting than it is. religion, pot, holywood... *Friday, July 6, 2001*
Two of my friends today where talking about doing white tantric yoga. Dispite common misconception, this does not automatically mean sex. Apparently however, what this perticular style is, involves two people sitting very close together staring into eathothers' eyes. ...reminds me of co-counsiling. ...reminds me of having a girlfriend. ...reminds me of the best of the best of nbtsc. reminds me of sweat lodges. ...reminds me of unitarians. reminds me of all the things I've done without for too fucking long. reminds me how closed I still am. reminds me how many scars I got between September 6th 1999, and October 12th, 2000. reminds me that I still listen to Godsmack every time they come on the radio. The thought of sharing with someone something as intence as an extended session of staring into eachother's eyes used to be my finest fantacy. Now it scares the fuck out of me. The guy? because... he's trying to be innocent right now... I know he has history, but he's trying to be reborn or something, and I think he would try to hard to change what he saw when he looked into my eyes. He does it when talking to me. I couldn't take that. The girl? The girl would respect the haunted look in my eyes... but... she's... cute. So it seems I've become friends with the two types I can't entirely trust... men who can't let me be myself, and attractive women who can... gee, I wonder what that could have anything to do with. I've heard that the heart chakra is actually devided into two peices; the part that does melting, uphoric love, and the part that does the courage of a warior. The latter built fort knox around the former twice since I left this continent the first time. There's gold and gems lying all about, but god fucking damn it's lonely in here. The untrustworthyness of cute people. I think that's the number one reason for belief in god.
*3:41am, Monday, July 9* Walking Wounded. She's gone now. All that's left is... where I am. She's just one of many. In my history. Not my one and only. All that's left is... where I am. Walking wounded. Ready to scream. Ready to crumble, fall, and cry. Stabbed through the heart each day I... Smile. Optimism. Life Goals. Productivity. Meaning, Purpose, Dedication. No. No. No. No. No. And No. I'm free now. Living on my own. No pets. No lover. No mother. I'm free to lie every day. I'm free to survive. I'm free to... little more. Survival isn't what it used to be. Survival is lying now. Survival is denying how... How I've always been. Who I've always am. "Can't have that, that's dangerous." Yes. Dangerous. I am dangerous. Mostly too myself. Since my real question has always been... "Do I really want to be in a place such as this?" But that danger was fine with me... I'd heard distant scoldings for it. But it was fine for me, Till you told me it's no way to be. Till you told me how to be. Till you told me no one wants to see that. Till you told me that would kill me. And I believed you, because it was killing me... Softly... with her words... But it's who I am. It's who I've always been, and I've always survived... When I've been honest about it. I used to know myself. That's why rules on my own behavior bugged me. Because I knew myself all too well. I knew what I wanted. I knew what I needed. I knew why. Even if I verbalized it wrong. But now Driver's License. Now Bank Account. Now Check Card. Now Professional. Now Photo I.D. Now "Ethics" class. And soon, soon, soon, Graduate. Nationally Certified. State Licensed. God-Like-On-Paper. That's not me. I'm always learning. I'm always a beginner. There's always something in which I... I barely know my ass from a whole in the ground. But then the Fourth Commandment shouts my name, And Ms. Phillips cralls into my head, And she screams in my face: Thou Shalt Not Admit Weakness! Clients Want The Expert. Employers Want The Expert. Insurance Want's The Expert. And most importantly, The Right Paper's... And The Right Attitude... Beat An Honest "Uh... I'm not sure..." Any. Day. Of. The. Week. Bite me. Fuck me. I didn't get in this profession to worship the Holy Dollar. And I don't seek clients who are that stupid. ...Yes, believe it or not, you can choose your clientel. Believe it or not, I'll do fine without ten thuroughly thought out game plans, laid out several years ahead of me. Yes, believe it or not the fact that I won't become independantly wealthy with this job doesn't bother me. You said not to burn your text book in effegy the day after graduation. Can I have a lock of your hair then perhaps? I'm sick of proving myself to people who want proof in triplicate, Sent in, Sent Back, Lost. Found. Burried in soft peat for 3 months. And finally recycled as... Take a look at me bitch. Take a look at my world. Your standards are for people who don't know themselves. Your standards are to protect those who have no interest in thought. And those people need your rules of thumb, set in stone. Do you think I do? I know how to not fall off a roof. I know how to not molest a client. I know how to not get mugged out walking at 2am. I know how to trespass without causing any harm to anyone. I wish jake was here, Maybe he could pin down exactly what it is that james and carolyn are missing when it comes to me. They're missing something. But that's another story... Maybe... Except I think their missing seeing me for who I still think I am, Because I haven't been that me in ages. I miss that me. It's still here. It's not gone. It's just serving time. Three Minutes to Life. (who knows?) Inprisoned behind the walls... The walls built to keep out a repeat... Of the last two years. *Friday the 13th of July* Huh... none of my clients in the clinic today where zombies. Oh well... I guess it's not a full moon at least, maybe that's it... and I was working morning shift. *Tuesday July 17th, 6:38pm* I Can't Fucking Wait To Get Out Of This Fucking School So I Can Find A Real Fucking Teacher And Actually Start Fucking Learning.
*Wednesday July 18th, 2:42am* Methinks not. I don't think I'm comming back down here. Sorry all yall locals, but the south sucks ass, and atlanta can bite me. I don't like it so good. It's not where I want to be. I belong in the northwest. And this school can bite me. The New course I was thinking about is gonna be much better than the one I'm in now, for various reasons, but... fuck that. I don't need it. I'm doing damn well without it, and it's not what I need for continuing my learning, I need lots and lots of practice, and maybe a mentor. But I don't fucking need another ASM course. Not even a superb one, not even with three head teachers I respect and admire. Not even without the Business Skills class. Not Even working in clinic and making money while I do it. I don't need any more of this shit. I need to live with unschoolers who will keep my mind nice and durty (no more of this mind washing stuff, I'm sick of it, I think my soul's skin is getting itchy from all the clorine.) I need to be somewhere I can settle into, and expect to stay for a while. Ghad all Muddy I need that. I haven't felt like I was actually going to stay where I was long enough that it made sence to really make a life for myself in years. Goodbye Georgia. Don't call me, I'll call you. ...long (long) distance. *Sunday, July 22nd 5:37am* Did I mention that many things in this world can die a slow and painful death? So Osteopathic was started by a guy who used joint manipulation and something sounding very much like reiki, to cure just about anything. (I'm talking, curing 10 year olds with bad cases of the measles, repeatedly, and they usually went from burning up with fever expected to die to basically healed in a day or two.) Now I look at Osteopathic schools and find a FAQ that mentions joint manipulation as an additional modality they train in. sigh Every alternitive anything is caving into the pressure to require assinine bloated courses (and college as a prerequisite of course) to learn their technique or modality. All in the name of becomming a "respectable institution." Respectable institutions can bite me. The entire idea of them seems to be to cater to who ever is the most paranoid biggoted asswhole with any power, and limit something to fit into those people's happy little box labled "safe." ...and of course that includes that you are obviously an ignorant snake oil salesman if you haven't gotten at least 7 years of indoctrination in our educational system. (since internship is such an untrustworthy method of learning.) I would be a libertarian, except I don't believe in people being responsible for themselves, most people are too stupid. I would be anarchist, except I don't believe it would work, someone would take power unless every single person wanted anarchy, and most people don't, most people want to be oppressed to one extent or another. I would go for enlightened dictatorship, but even if you get a good one the first time, by the time he's dead the same kind of power hungery asswholes as always have had a few decades to carefully plan how to take over one way or another, and then you're screwed. So instead I go for destroying power. Putting someone "beter" in power does no good what-so-ever in the long run, cause frankly, they die. But getting rid of power... if there's less power to be had, then the scum that inevitably take power will have less of it. I think I'm going to persue music. Nobody can tell me what I can fucking say or not say. (Only what can be played on the radio.) I think my first album will be called "Wizards First Rule" *Sat July 28, 5:58pm* I speek unique, In twisted tongues, Don't think you grok, what comes from my lungs, I speek unique, In a twisted dialect, chaos theory, not lookin for perfect. *Monday, July 30th, 8:38pm* Here Comes the Rain Again Eurythmics Here comes the rain again Falling on my head like a memory Falling on my head like a new emotion I want to walk in the open wind I want to talk like lovers do I want to dive into your ocean Is it raining with you (Refrain) So baby talk to me Like lovers do Walk with me Like lovers do Talk to me Like lovers do Here comes the rain again Raining in my head like a tragedy Tearing me apart like a new emotion Oooooh I want to breathe in the open wind I want to kiss like lovers do I want to dive into your ocean Is it raining with you (Refrain) So baby talk to me Like lovers do Here comes the rain again Falling on my head like a memory Falling on my head like a new emotion (Here is comes again, here it comes again) I want to walk in the open wind I want to talk like lovers do I want dive into your ocean Is it raining with you (Repeat last verse to fade) *I survived a delightful community event for school.* *3:20pm Sat, August 4*
*10:33, August 9*
Dark Clouds gather... thunder rumbles. He brought this on. he brought this darkness, this realness, to this place of florescence and pastel. this place of picket fence wisdom. danger lurks in the air, and they quiver. they hide in their houses, behind locked doors, legs clammy and cold from the Central Air. He walks through the rain, wondering when this too will pass. Wondering when the Victorian Age will end in this place of protection from reality. He wonders to, if where he's going will actually be any better. But it must be, if not on the surface, then underneath. It couldn't have lost all of it's grunge when silicon fever invaded the rain. but that really doesn't matter... cause here he's a visiter. here he's a student. There he'll be home. There he will make it his home, claim it as his own, take himself to seroiusly, and develop some selfrightious badassitude. More to the point he'll be the same lilly white ass he always has been, but he won't have to keep being the lilly white ass society wants him to be. He'll be his own unique variety of stupid human, and he will know many tricks. For he knows rage, he knows bitter. he knows discontent and he is happy to live there. heaven, nirvana, enlightenment. those who search for it tend to condemn those who don't. either condemn, or look down on, or pitty, or whathave you. all demeaning. no wonder their search is long... they have a long way to go. I for one am here to be human. I for one like the demons. I relish admiting the dark sides. Contained yes. ignored? denied? fuck you too. *3:32am, monday, august 14th* and then the yin hit, the walls melted, and no one knew me again. All my anger, all my rage, all my scars, from reaching this age... they're still within me, but they're power is drooping. Another great extreem is wearing itself thin. my paradoxes are reaserting themselves, leaving me here at the center of my mind to gaze out at all the tiraids going off in all directions. you come out at night, that's when the energy comes, and the dark sides light, and the vampires roam..... I'm back to female vocals and meloncholly recollection. 'cause you're working, building a mystery, holding on, and holding it in... I've been in a bitter and academic cacoon, and I'm comming out again. for all the good it does me. just me. same old me. same wants, same needs, same miscomprihensions. new scars, new knowledge, but just as inocent and ignorant as always. It's a day for sighing. I had a smile, stretched from ear to ear, to see you walking down the road, we meet at the lights, I stare for a while, the world around us disapears... oooh, and every time I'm close to you, there's to much I can't say, and you just walk away, and Iiiiiiii foooooooorgot, to teeeeeeeeell you, I love you.... she don't do nestalga... or if she does she won't let it on. sweet surrender, is all I have to give... I wish I could have several bodies, each for one mood. it might confuse people less, and each could find it's own lover. What an incredibly stupid idea. it doesn't mean much, it does't mean anything at all, the life I've left behind me, cruel dream... "who are you?..." I need to scream for about three hours, cry for a day and a half, and then sleep for a week. then I'll wake up, have a nervous brake down when I realise the world is just the same, and then proceed to feel much beter anyway. What I need is rejuvination. how ever it is that you spell that. it's what I need. it's what I need. it's that I need. Thank you for hearing me. Thank you for hearing me. Thank you for hearing me. Thank you for hearing me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for seeing me. And for not leaving me. And for not leaving me. And for not leaving me. And for not leaving me. Thank you for staying with me. Thank you for staying with me. Thank you for staying with me. Thank you for staying with me. Thanks for not hurting me. Thanks for not hurting me. Thanks for not hurting me. Thanks for not hurting me. You are gentle with me. You are gentle with me. You are gentle with me. You are gentle with me. Thanks for silence with me. Thanks for silence with me. Thanks for silence with me. Thanks for silence with me. Thank you for holding me. And saying I could be. Thank you for saying baby. Thank you for holding me. Thank you for helping me. Thank you for helping me. Thank you, thank you for helping me. Thank you for braking my heart. Thank you for tearing me apart. Now I'm a strong, strong heart. Thank you, for braking my heart. *7:49pm, Friday August 17, 2001* All is peaceful on the southeastern front. All is well with were I am, and where I'm going on my road to no-where-in-perticular. I never thought such a thing could be so complete. I didn't think she would be so ready for peace as I recently realised I was. Love is not about sameness. Love is not about compatability. Love is not about ending. Love is not about lasting as you thought it would. Love is about lasting without everything or even -anything- you thought it meant. Love is not about practical. Love is it's own thang. Love is it's own excuse. Love is it's own reason. Love turns sour when practicality "jus don't work like dat." But it's love non-the-less, it's just turned into something bitter and rejected. But in my case, it's not been rejection of the love. It's been a never-will-be of everything we dragged in with the love. What good is love with someone you'll see every few years at most, and can't talk to more than speratically without you both grating on eachother's nerves? What good is that? A hell of a lot of good actually. It's past not forgotten. It's past not rejected. It's history fondly remembered. It's the understanding that the history is not ruened by it's ending. It's still there, like crystalized heaven, back a few steps in the time/space continuum. It's understanding that the love is it's own -thang-. It's understanding that, (to get totally cliche,) love transends day to day life. It's the understanding that you can still love someone even if you can't live with them. ...or within a thousand miles. It's the understanding that love is seperate from the dreams, the wants, the desires, the plans and the deeds. It's the understanding that the rejection was about life and the down to earth reality of the situation, not about rejecting the love, only about rejecting the situation, and any and sometimes all of the asperations one (or two) had about what would be made of the love. And for us it wasn't even a rejection, it wasn't even a choice. It just happened. It's just how it is. "Forever is an interesting concept, but it doesn't last nearly as long as advertised." -me. When I first said this it was out of bitter remorse, but now I see it differently. Now that kicks ass. I wonder how many forever's I'll live in this lifetime. I'm thrilled to dive in headlong to my next one, and even more thrilled that I have no idea what it holds for me. You, my love, are one of the biggest presences in my history, and my history means a lot to me. I went with you to my highest highs, and my lowest lows, and right now I'm cherishing all of it. It's my history, it makes up who I am. and I love it. You're the brightest gem of my past, and a minor sideline of my presant, and I'm at peace with that. It works well that way. Go. Live how you want to. I'd do the same, completely differently. And keep in touch, I want to hear your voice occasionally, (over the phone, just like always.) And I think I'll smell your hair again one day. And it will be good. And in the mean time I'll be diving into my next forever head first. And it will be good. I love you. I always will. I'll miss you, and I'll always remember you. You've been one of the most important people in my life. You'll be one of the most important people in my memory for a long time to come. Thank you. Namaste. *9:09pm, Fri, Aug, 17* Oh wow, this kicks ass. I'm not angry any more. Back To SaM NBTSWikiWiki | Recent Changes Edited 1 times, last edited on August 20, 2001 by zakarria@nbtsc.org. © 2000 NBTSC Webmasters |
it's not you...
