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.

how the hell did it....?

you were the very last exception i was willing to give the world up for...for what? For nothing. there is a single shred of smoke that slips into nothingness, sounds so shrill they tear the earth apart, one sorrowful gasp to express the ordeal, the void and mostly...the space you failed to fill. why would it matter if i trampled over my good nature, if, just this once, i was more like you... if the sky crumbled at your feet. i see not, i hear not, i smell not, i taste not, i feel not...i love not. there is nothing worth loving and the rest is all a huge disappointment. no one is entitled to such a grand display of affection, not even me. i know that much, it's just that my vision gets blurry at times, it gets "blinded" by the shining of siblings such as you, of mirrors, of...disappointments. The world is undeserving and unfortunately you're part of it with all your flaws and imperfections. i want to disappear from your life forever, so nothing could evoke a question or a thought, no memories, no years, no me.

incoherence

i cried my share in oceans yesterday, i sobbed, i sighed, i bellowed, i despaired, i stopped existing, if only for a few seconds in a hallway, collapsed on the floor, dripping mascara that stains carpets and perceptions. dark tears that stained the very fabric of my soul and its underlying reality. the experience is like being drained of any drop of life lingering in my body, like having wings chopped off with an axe...bloody feathers stuck to its blade while i shout in relentless pain and insanity the realization of the loss, the absurdity of such a state, the absence of...you. regardless of the effort i put into wording it, the more it seems impossible to convey this dreaded ambiguity of what i feel so that you might understand... i think i tore myself up in another million pieces, to add to the other millions... so much so i fail to the substance in my existence. i need a sack of pieces... could you spare some?

drunken daze of a sunburnt beat

some things in life need to be documented, for various reasons, such as: further reference or "let's not screw it up the way we did last time", fond memories or "how you promise yourself you'll never sleep in a car again" and personal notes to self or "fuck! i drank again to the point where i can't remember my own name". one such eventful and amusing experience was our weekend trip to the seaside. seemingly, we planned it down to a tee, 2 weeks in advance, but since this sort of thing never really works out, we went with the flow...and what a flow it was! mood swings from ecstasy to agony every hour, on the hour, from filthy rich to flat broke and then some, from dancing next to the trunk of the car to a literal crowd as far as the eye could see, but one thing we never missed and abundant and great it was...music. so much music, you could satisfy entire worlds for a few days, car music, beach music, after music, liberty music, kudos music, water music, optick music, sleeping music, house music... elevator music??? maybe, dunno - must have been there somewhere.

needless to say we had our share of troubles and mishaps, our string of misfortunes, but everything just slips by when you can complain about to each other about how a iron fence fell flat on your alcohol-enhanced head or how you could never find an ATM when you badly need one. frankly i miss lying on the beach and bathing in live music, i miss being so drunk i crave to eat a box of skittles, i miss getting upset and angry for a full 2 seconds... btw, were you ever going to change that t-shirt? u'r wearing it in 90% of the pictures :))

heat sweat dust plaster

a day of heat, sweat and dusty plaster, which seems to be indefinitely embodied in my lips, just as you are. no matter how i try i can never truly do anything - meaningful that this - more than a sweet calming voice. it doesn't really help, does it? how can i metaphorically put this hopelessness into words?

at times, it feels like we're worlds apart, so distinct, so far away, and yet i can almost reach you, i can almost make out your troubles...i just wish i could do something - i'd conjure a measure of perfection embodied in blue to wisk you away to what you might envision as carefree carelessness on a distant island in an alternate telepathical universe.

...in slightly emotional, undisrupted, contemplative pieces i feed my soul on the truth in your lies. neverending, this solipsistic outlook which overshadows the desire of simple unreality consumed by affixed nothingness. don't bother ...no need is fulfilled by mere presence and the blissful ignorance i solemnly preach.

what do i call thee...?

i fiddle here alone with a fragment of my own consciousness, amids secular trees, iron railings and the soft indistinct voice of a mellow corner of nature, but, one can't help but notice - faintly, that's true -, the shrill high-pitched call of a car alarm going off somewhere in the distance. and so, my solitude is drained away by a single phone call, by the presence of them... i take comfort in delusion and fascinating insanity, the kind you surrender yourself to completely, with no remorse, no regard, no trouble, no idea, devoid of reality, of rationality into, what i call, my blissful ignorance. i loathe the very idea of what escaped my lips, deflected by the crisp watery surface in the dead of night, of how i broke and bended, of how i couldn't contain that monstrous lame excuse for a soul - i keep a heavy rusted brass lock on and tie up in chain on the recessed of a would-be conformity. i don't conform, you see, i never truly use my emotions to get what i want and i'm not even sure it would work if i tried to. it just gets so tiring at times to fight atrociously long never-to-be-won battles. i take this great pleasure in trying to achieve the impossible, for i see myself as maybe more than i am, giving myself credit for something i may never do, something unattainable, something only a fool might embrak on. the fool, the arlequin, the lovely, charming, mezmerising, beautiful, gripping, humorous, perfect little character i strip off when i'm here alone. i allow myself to be selfish on a piece of paper, i can articulate how much i hate whining people, the attention seekers, the extorsioners, the ones that have to constantly remind you of what they did for you, how much they love and suffer, how wonderful they are, how much credit they deserve for listening to you. i can only see this as something so selfish, it cannot stand to be put into words, something so inherently human. so despicable, so incumbersome, something you always fall for, because i do too...stupid of us, and you know it. if i tried explaining it you, if i actually had the guts to say it to your face - how it makes sence to me - you might agree, but, then again, i know you'd hate me for it - you can't really see it. that doesn't really count for anything, it won't matter, because things never actually change for me, i never change my feelings. you can read my thoughts, but i'd love it if you could x-ray my soul and weep at the sight of its fragile deformity.