loving this

"I saw my belly's electric red hair
toward my breasts, feathered bird,
And I laughed.
I saw humanity vomit in a shaky church basin
And I did not listen to my heart.
I saw a camel dressed and leaving for Mecca
Without the thousand and one sand vendors and the scaly
Of the black crowds.
But I could not go with them
Laziness had reduced the better part of my fervor
And routine had retrieved the dislocated
Dance of the big toe."
Joyce Mansour

peter pan syndrome

i just want to work at exactly the times i want to work! is that so much to ask!
maybe not.

each day here i get a little bit closer to freelance.
i really like the idea of being my own boss but i also see how that can entail quite a bit more work that this. taxes and health insurance being gigantic pains in the ass.
it is a little bit nice to not think about anything, drive to the same place at the same time everyday and have people tell you were you're going to go. not bad at all.
so i guess i will be making my third pros and cons list of the week. somehow they just manage to make me more frustrated. but i like lists.

it's summer again. and i have still managed to temporarily suspend every notion that i am an adult. somehow, every year at this time, i expect work to let out.
"see you guys in the fall. have an awesome summer! call me!"
i am still wondering why i am not running through the sprinkler right now. instead i am buttoned into a very scratchy, coco channel rip off staring at the glowing rectangle and answering stupid phone calls.
everyone with half a heart has peter pan syndrome.
it's just harder to deal with when it's this sweet outside.

Hindsight is 50/50.

Nostalgia is a pile of mud.
A chunk of something,
Shaped into nothing.
A useless emotion.
A silly notion,
To look back and think it will still be there.
You drive into the sunset and listen to the music swell.
It’s a lie and you know it.

Hindsight is 50/50.
Half true and half what you wanted to do.

You’re not going anywhere.
You think you’re going somewhere.
Your tires are stuck in the mud.
Watch the horizon.
You’re stuck in the mud.

If you can feel anything,
It’s because of something
You felt before.
There is nothing new.
The wheel rotates.
But the pattern is a predictable.
It is a circle.
Nothing ever changes.
You are not new
You are not new.

No inspiration will come.
If it was ever there,
It’s there now.
And if it never lived inside you
It never will
It never will.

dear maniac lifestyle

Once again white-knuckling the pendulum as it swings wildly to the other side. I guess it was inevitable that I go shake the willies out after being in virtual isolation for such a long time. I am having pendulum remorse this morning.
I woke up almost unable to breathe from the insane amount of cigarettes I have smoked in the last three weeks. Then I decided, masochist that I am, I would step on the scale, just to check in. Shitballs. Worst idea ever. I have pretty much eaten my weight in butter and pizza this week. I also haven’t run for pretty much the entire month of may. (which is more the fault of my bum foot, but still not much of an excuse.) I also muddled through this morning putting the milk in the makeup drawer and pouring coffee into not-a-mug. I haven’t slept. Not a good sleep. Not in a while. It’s starting to inhibit my ability to drive myself from A to B in a safe manner.

I need to find a sustainable lifestyle before I totally lose my shit. Don’t get me wrong, hanging out with friends and getting back into karaoke is most excellent fun. But I can’t see myself going in a good direction here. I used to look at Kate and wonder how the hell she does it. Rage, work, rage, work. But now I know how she does it. She comes home from work and goes directly to bed. That kind of sleep schedule is a sure fire way to give me a case of the depressos.

Also, summer is upon us now and I have every intention of behaving like a high school senior. I want to go swimming at night, attend bonfires in back yards, assume no responsibility whatsoever and gossip about other people’s boyfriends. Now that I’m 27, all I want to do is act like I’m 17 again. I refuse to get old.