January 24, 2010

Forgettable

I love darkness, it liberates my soul. The piccolo keeps going it doesn’t matter where I go. My own theme music, my own rusted Buick. I still make payments but lost the ingredients. I feel so needy. My words disrespect me and I disrespect them. Fuck them. I don’t really get it, they move; I stay complacent. My grammar is ugly and my friends are rammarg. What can I do when its all so wonderful? My head starts hurting and my neck stops beating. I love the sound of gibberish, especially in the morning. I haven’t slept for days and my head keeps hurting. What can I do but keep typing? The moment I give up the light is sure to take me. It’s almost over now, I really cannot help it. Please bear with me while I contemplate the idiocy that prevents me from skating on the thin ice that is my relationship. How can I even call it that when I never call her back? She’s nothing to me is what I always tell myself. What’s the point in caring when I’m not expected to? I can play a role. I can win a game. Monopoly isn’t hard but it always brings the worst. No one wins but Parker Brothers. I wish I had a monocle.


7 comments:

  1. That was an ambivalent train of thought. Your use of words, even if painful, is lovely.

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  2. Maybe you want someone that you can care about.

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  3. monocles are cool...what's rammarg mean??? i really like that painting, did you do that? it's good you ramble, those writings are usually the best! take care

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  4. Thanks everyone. Rammarg is just grammar spelled backwards.

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  5. And no, I found that painting randomly somewhere on the internet. I wish I had artistic talent.

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  6. Chris, I didn't realize that you were still blogging. It makes me happy to see this. Things may be forgettable..but once you find what it is you are looking for you will never forget that. Keep playing the game in finding what life is and what it means.

    _Alydia

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  7. it's easy to play a role in those situations isn't it, rather than truly releasing yourself to the world as you are. i love the found art - what do you see in it? i see a man holding a woman, her legs stretched up and pressed against a wall, hair everywhere, yet not really looking at each other. keep telling your story and letting the words flow. embrace the brevity that is life.

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