Momentum of nothing

it's almost a shame, a damn shame to waste your time, to waste someone else's time, to waste time...time never to be had, time always craved and coveted, time long passed, time just passed, the past, the now, the momentum of every second you spend like you somehow own it. probably, not so often, but most of the time when you look back on things, hours are just massacred in futility and thoughts, ever so many, get lost in the process of neglect. there is somewhat of a revival in acknowledging things, there is infinite possibility in acting upon the acknowledgement, but sometimes i just yearn for things i don't truly or entirely want. getting something you didn't really bargain for leaves you with a weird metallic taste in your mouth, like chewing on too many silver coins, regardless of how nice they might be. i just want things for the sole purpose of having them without the implication of having to do something once i attain the object/person/desire in question. call me a hoarder, call me a collector, call me vain and insensitive and I'll revel in it. then again, give me time and i'll have trouble finding something to do with it. it goes without saying that i will end up doing something but just doing something is hardly time well spent, it's just a waste, and how i'd wish i'd have my own personal time with it's own flow, with a freeze here and there and a very big forward button to move me on to the next stage.

Muchness

My essence is torn to shreds while i indulge in chocolate-coated almonds and revel in my present condition. i call it condition since it's mainly of a medical nature, aka my sinuses are practically clogged up, and it's giving me a frightfully delirious headache. somehow it escapes my consciousness how events are brought about, how they unravel, how and where exactly i play a part in them. something slow has started in me and... i find i have control over very few things nowadays, which is rather unsettling in my mental agenda. i require so many circumstances, i need so many things, so many people, so many words, so ...much. i think i need so much, because, as one Mad Hatter once put it " i may have lost my Muchness". As you get older you slowly become more afraid, more thoughtful, patient if you will...patient with impatient thoughts. Patient nonetheless. I miss the days when a book or a cup of coffee in the morning was the answer to all that was inherently wrong and out of sorts with the world. One never had moods or chills or thrills, swings or tantrums or outbursts, you worked with what you got while attempting to change the universe in the process. Anything can happen once you put your Mind and Muchness to it. It usually did and it still does...but the equation for now requires circumstances, so many loose ends that it looks like a miracle if something works out for the best.
Every now and then i catch a glimpse of myself...just thinking out-loud. I'm so dependent on so many people around me, i strive to please, to humour, to soothe, to comfort, to amuse, to enlighten, to act, to... do so much i'm practically exhausted by the time i should be having my afternoon tea. This, somehow, cripples the Muchness and there is never time enough to let it replenish. it's because it all keeps swirling in your brain, and as you world expands the swirl gets louder and louder and you'd rather be living in a tiny box.
However, by then, you'd be missing out on all the fun, like getting to see Gaga in an Egg-dress which might count as replenishment enough for the Muchness. My eyes are sore from the flu and the mascara, the dust outside, the wind, the cold, exhaustion. I never did give much thought to how they might feel, Muchness or no Muchness...

morning ... very mundane

Dishevelled yawn for the better part of the past minutes, lingering to the display of the Google homepage ( i just find myself staring into it sometimes, for no apparent reason, but it does have some sort of calming, brain-debilitating, amnesic effect) trying to negociate myself over the pretentionsness of having to start over a new day. bleak, dreary and, all in all, plain boredom creeps over like so many misplaced thoughts of things i'm supposed to be doing, i.e. turning the better part of the world's tree supply to useless scrap papers for my insignifiant nerve-wrecking exams.

yoghurt and jasmine tee in hand i find myself in the same place as every morning, doing the same useless stuff, reading the obnoxious books... well this morning is a tad on the different side of things, since i'm not in bed and i've had the audacity of starting up my laptop so as to prevent myself from falling asleep ( to be quite honest, i have not the slightest idea why i need to sleep, or my body yearns it so - things would go so much smoother without it, though i do now of diverging opinions on the matter).

so... not much more that i can stand my brain dripping in slow freezing droplets onto my neck and having to partake in the whole process. i think i want to x-ray a neuron just so i could kill it in a different way.