why did i mention this or that? it's not like i wanted to - funny, how a feeling of obligation yielded nothing good anyway - i might as well have done this or that - expression impression printing vice - i guess it would be better to file this away - it would be a character strength, a kind of integrity to not post, and be all-insular rather than quasi-insular, but i'm sick of building character - sick in general - can i shrug it off and sleep, on this much caffeine? yeah, i bet i could - won't even dig for an essay
vocation-less studying for nothing - are you ready to die yet? i thought i had to reach out, to anything, take every opportunity - now i'm stuck with opportunities taken, breeding other opportunities that demand to be taken, in an overpopulating cycle
maybe i can scrape by, shamefully - shame me over here, shame me over there, or maybe it's clear it won't work, it will have the opposite effect, at least on the hard glazed surface where i hang out, stubbornly, i'll shame myself until someone else does, and then i'll be spitefully proud, or at least pretend to be, and it'll almost work, for a while
all i can feel is pressure any more, can't remember ease
well, i do remember new york-themed dreams that come in so many variations and colors and emotions, a full spectrum of feeling from positive to negative and off the dichotomies - remember the trampoline under the ancient ruins of the rural house that kind of resembled Robin's grandparents' place? and underneath was... something i can't describe - and a television shoot on 3 dimensional primary colored floating boxes like a mario game, and cast and crew catering power struggles, and a bottle of vodka stashed in a cubby hole deep inside the floating box fort, and sneaking off the set
and that triggers a branch off that dream-limb to a brightly-lit tower interior, and a construction job, and woah, that triggers a dream about tampa, and highways, and driving incompetently on crazy freeways at terribly dangerous speeds in heavy traffic where everyone else seems so nonchalant, and farm access roads in grids on plains, and poorly-planned trips across countries, late for flights, catching other flights on dodgy massively oversized airliners from strange foreign countries that i know will crash, it's just a matter of when, and the airliner that had a mall inside of it, that made me wonder how it could fly being that big, what hubristic luxury, and the globe dream, with analogues to environmental catastrophes and geneses that seem to flow like air currents, and a bunch more stuff, i could do this aaaaaaall day and night, and i still have wednesday to catch up, so maybe i will, insanity and dreaming seem so pathetically natural
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Got no one to talk to, so I’m venting online. So, I really tried to hustle this week. Applied to five places. Even with the xanax it was har...
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Actual composition instead of an hour-long improv indulgence, 'sbeen a while. I wanted to call it The Dandy Whoremonger, but settled on ...
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Doing a writing exercise, I guess, is what I'm doing. Because I've hardly written anything for months. Since I got sober, yet again....
not paranoid when you should be just one of my normal keyboard improvisations, nothing special, except that it's recorded on a real grand.
1 comment:
Can we get a swirl in here?
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