Paco Called In Sick Today

Feel as if I’ve adopted insomnia though it is more as if insomnia adopted me. Awake or asleep doesn’t matter my mind is always running. A constant over saturation of ideas that are very much independent of one another. One after the other over and over with no resolve. Who have I become and what must I do to get rid of all these wasted thoughts? Are these things really important to me anymore?

Judge each other on the idea that we know anyone. Peace in the idea that we understand something we have no idea about. Ignorance is tolerated because we are all ignorant. There is no solution to any of this. Constantly asking ourselves, myself what is it that I know to be true?

We evolve in time within our minds. Not the same person I was before I died yet I feel the same as I ever have. Chasing a shadow in the dark. Searching for whatever it is that I have become. Monster or man what is the difference this far along?

At this point in time they have become one. Not sure I’m okay, but I’ll survive. Not sure I even have or had a choice in all this time. They say we do, but they also say there is a God that makes every decision for us. Conflicting conflict right there if you ask me. The world is evolve or die. God or man the laws are the same. Simple and complex all at the same time.

Because Asking Would Be Too Off Putting

Diving right into the subject on this one. I’m sure I’ll dip in and out of anything I have to say. Thought about all of this six hours ago. My favorite book of all time is Post Office by Charles Bukowski. If you haven’t read it well. Well you should have by now. Bukowski is something else. Amazon has labels, the library has a section, but to me Bukowski is life. With that said is Post Office the greatest book ever written? Probably not. Could careless if anyone or no one else likes it.

The thing about Post Office that I love so much is this feeling. This feeling that life will never get better. This feeling that life is a trap. This feeling that you will always be stuck doing the same thing forever. I struggle with these issues on a daily basis as I’m sure most of us do. This doesn’t go away as we get older. But in a sense you have to settle. I hate to use that word and by definition what I’m about to say would go against that word. You get a fucking Treasures I’m writing here.

Point is that in life not everything is perfect all the time. Not every aspect of your life is what you dreamed it would be. One realizes with time that the only power they have is to choose which aspects of their lives to focus on. You can only spin so many fucking plates until it all comes crashing down.

I work hard at my job. Ask any of them and I’m awesome or whatever, but that place could burn down tomorrow. I’d be more pissed that I now have to find another job I don’t care about then anything to do with that place.  I settled for my job. Oh well could give a fuck. I need money for things I actually care about.

I didn’t settle on my family or the time that I spend with them. I don’t settle on my writing. Maybe after draft eighteen, but most of the time I don’t. These are things that I can make perfect. Things that I can care about. Things that make me happy. Yes I have that emotion somewhere deep down in there. Things I won’t settle for.

Post Office didn’t teach me any of this. What Post Office did was made me realize I was trapped. That I was lost. That I was going to get stuck. Post Office made me think and that is why books are important. I saw the parallels that I was living to the main character, and I knew that, that was not what I wanted. I knew I didn’t want to just get by in this life. I had a goal and I needed to do more than hope. I needed to do more than let the waves drag me under. Fuck what happens. That is what Post Office left me with. This feeling that what was going to happen was going to happen anyways. Might as well fuck with it until it does. We get one life. Take a chance.

“In the morning it was morning and I was still alive. Maybe I’ll write a novel, I thought. And then I did.”

Charles Bukowski, Post Office

Chili Cinema And What We Are Doing

Land Of The Dead

Chewed on this for a bit too long, but this Saturday… Tomorrow… Little Fears, Weird Shit with Alex, I… Will be watching George A Romero’s Land of the Dead…  Thought you’d all like to know that…Oh and we will be live tweeting as we do it.. 

Starting at 9pm London (4pm U.S.) time… So check us out on Twitter… and or join us as we talk about our hopes and feelings…. The dreams that came and went…. Maybe a thing or two about blood and zombies… Honestly I’m not sure… Half the time I don’t even know what I am doing any more in this lost landscape of time… Okay I am being told to wrap it up… Now is not the time to get existential.. But tomorrow?.. Who knows…

We will be using a Service called Chili Cinema… You can rent or buy all kinds of movies… Check it out here… https://uk.chili.com/

Twitter Handles
Follow Weird Shit with Alex @SynBoomstick
Follow Little Fears @TheLittleFears 

Blog Handles? (What is this Hackers?)
Check out Little Fears: https://littlefears.co.uk/
Check Out Weird Shit With Alex: https://weirdshitwithalex.blog/

I thought about making every other word Bold just to fuck with you… So you are welcome… Also Girls Trip was available?? and we went with zombies?? Next time I’m picking the movie…

 

Weatherman

The weatherman calls for rain, but then again it always rains here. The rain is cold and it is harsh against my clothes and against my skin. The rain comes down and it pours, and when it doesn’t pour it turns into mist that surrounds me to always let me know that it is there with me. The rain will never leave.

The weatherman calls for rain. He is an idiot in a village full of them. The rain builds up on the edges of the streets and seeps on to the sidewalk. The rain puddles look like lakes on the ground. I feel as if I am Jesus walking on water, but the holes in my shoes bring me closer to the ground than closer to god.

The weatherman calls for rain, but what does it matter? When it rains it pours and it makes days seem like weeks and weeks like months. Time stands still here only the rain and the weatherman are constant around me. Some days it burns and some days it heals, but its presence is always with me. I wonder what it would be like without all the rain.

The weather man calls for rain, and I assume my place once again.

 

Story blog how strange… This is a flash fiction micro tale about nothing inspired by my time in Washington State… Fun fact it rains there.. a lot.. I remember walking to work and dodging the tidal waves created by the city buses… For a place with so much rain it always seemed as the roads were flooded… Too broke to afford even the bus. I often arrived to work soaking wet.. It was very humbling and honestly some days I miss it. Maybe it’s the youth I miss… Not caring about anything… Of course that wasn’t even the case then… Everything seemed way more important than it ever actually was.. I worked in a fucking video store.. haha… 

Another reason I wrote this story was because I could careless about the weather.. Not the environment.. I care about that.. Put your fangs back in… What I mean is that I don’t care if it is raining or not… It either is or it isn’t.. So to me weather specialist are kind of pointless… Tying it all together… There might be some more symbolism in there somewhere… Not sure what it could be.. 

  

Broken Thoughts

I want to change the world, but I know it won’t matter. The wheel turns with or without me. The sands of time keep falling one by one whether I care to notice at all. I can’t take much more of this. This world’s retribution is too much to bare. A constant dragging of my body across a bed of nails. My flesh tears apart, but yet somehow stays attached. The bones of my broken body mended together with lies and dreams. My blood is all but gone. My heart still beats. Beats to the rhythm of my death. Slow, painful, and everlasting.

We add only to take away
If I take away all that I have become
Would I only be adding to what I’ve done
Taken away from what I become
An empty shell, Hollowed out heart
A lie from the start
Accept my apologies
I knew not what I have done
Only that it would destroy you
Extinguish this thoughtless idea
Sincerely everything I wish

How soon is too soon to know this is an ever passing moment? These feelings won’t last and then I’ll be left with nothing much. Regret and sadness mostly. Sit and smile. Pretend not to suffer ninety-five percent of the day. This is life. This is how most of us live. Wish I could drink the feeling away like everyone else. Like my heroes, but it does nothing for me. Magnifies my problems, my issues in such a way that it makes me feel even worse than before. Maybe I’m not trying hard enough. Could be my problem all along. How hard should we be trying to live?

I want to dance in the darkness of me and you
Our shadows create a cryptic sense of self
Our shadows in the moon light
Our shadows, strangling each other tonight
Ideas of love twisted with each passing moment
Your final breathes
Mean more with everything left unsaid

Figuring Out I Was Wrong, Still Could Be Right

It is easy to get lost in all this shit. It is easy to forget that there is a whole other world out there. One I used to be a part of. Friends that I used to know. Places I used to go and now it is the same thing over and over again. The same old bull shit. Not much longer from now this will turn into the past, and just like my current past it will all become lost again.

It’s somewhere in there already, but lost all the same. Distant memories made up of good times and bad. I miss some of it. Okay a lot of it. Times were simpler of course because they always are. Life doesn’t get any easier than the way it was before. I miss Japan. I miss the life that I had there and yet I don’t really. At the time it was alienating. It was strange. Not the country. The country is amazing. It is part of me. Anytime I hear something bad happening there or happened I feel for the people. Off point. The things that were strange about being there was that I shouldn’t have been there at all.

All day I meet people who have never left the state let alone the country. I shouldn’t have been so lucky to see another country. To experience a life and a world outside of my own. It is damaging. Good or bad it was damaging. It has caused me to be lost in this new world I must live in. This off-putting only I matter world when you and I really don’t. That’s the thing about not getting out of your bubble is that you don’t realize that you are not important. Sure you can cause a big scene maybe fuck up some people’s day, but honestly you and your whole town could vanish of the face of the earth. Life would go on. A depressing thought I know, but the truth can be that way sometimes.

They’d make a new town. Maybe not right away because a bunch of people just vanished, but over time they’d move in. People love free shit even if it might kill them. Life is so minimal that it seems to be something greater than it really is. It is all so serious when it doesn’t have to be. We are either losing out on enjoying life or at a shot to enjoy life. It comes full circle I guess. I don’t know. Maybe I am only speaking for myself with the idea that I am speaking to others.

Looking back I wasted so much time caring about what others think or how things should be. Could be my cross to bear or it could be life. Either way I am lost in this new world I am forced to live in or I am lost in the old one that I had to give up. Life is ever evolving, constantly changing, and we are all here to keep it going. Lost or not we all have our place in time.

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Long Before

The blood it drips as it falls
The life fails as it goes on
The end is near
Though it has been all along
The difference between life and death
Is a heartbeat
The soul fades as it goes
The death grows as it goes
The end is near
Though it has been all along
The difference between life and death
Is a heartbeat
The difference between life and death
Is a heartbeat
A heartbeat that no longer seems to feel
Destroy the will and what became left
Soulless but who really knows before it is too late
The difference between life and death
Is nothing more than a heartbeat
The difference between me and you
Is nothing more than a heartbeat
The loneliness, the sadness, the happiness
Is nothing more than a heartbeat away
The heartbeats from within my chest
The life flows from out my wrist
The end is near but it was there long before

 

List of Words

Some, days, I, just, wish, the, world, would, die, an, all, this, pain, could, go, away, I, dream, in, blood, I, dream, in, liquid, secretly, watching, the, human, race, disappear, discretely, having, a, hand, in, every, death, easily, amused, toxically, confused, I, always, assumed, everyone, felt, like, me, with, a, gun, to, my, head, in, the, middle, of, times, square, not, important, unless, your, famous, each, life, started, the, same, just, some, are, worth, more, in, the, end, listen, to, me, I, sound, like, a, commi, how, un-American, how, un-human, starving, for, attention, dying, for, just, a, mention, of, my, existence, easily, amused, toxically, confused, easily, amused, some, days, I, just, wish, the, world, would, die, and, I, could, assist, lighter, and, can, of, gasoline, in, hand, I, want, to, watch, this, world, burn, watch, the, survivors, crawl, through, the, ash, and, fuck, it, up, once, again, again, again, we, are, the, cockroaches, of, the, universe, universally, fucked,  begging, for, god, begging, for, any, thing, prayers, un-answered, beings, being, slaughtered, starving, surviving, dying, this, is, the world, you, live, in,  I, will, just, keep, taking, my, pills, cause, you’re, to, easily, amused.

 

Hello once again. Two more poems from my book And Other Things From This Time. Not the happiest pair of poems, but equally showcasing the two sides of depression.  List of Words is actually originally from Drinking Bleach and is one of the first things I wrote for that book. It is older and there for I am older since I wrote it. Assuming I aged at all or grew up since then. You can be the judge, but as much as I enjoy the nostalgia of it…. The world is in a very different place than it was when I wrote it. A sadder place I would have to say. Violence is never the answer, but I whole heartily believe there is a difference between venting frustration and acting it out. Anger, rage, and hurt are all normal emotions. Like all emotions good or bad they fade….What I’m trying to say is that now that I am older it reads very differently than when I wrote it. Writing to me is very therapeutic. It frees up thoughts or feelings that I have to make room for positive ones… I debated whether to include it, but I think that it is good, interesting, and different. Even if it isn’t true or a positive way to go about feelings such as anger, rage, or hurt. 

I’m saying  all of this not because I feel guilty, but in many ways writing is very unique. There are few mediums of expression where you can be in a person’s head. Even if it is only for a second or a moment. Was I angry when I wrote the piece? Yes. Can I remember why I was? Not for all the money in the world, but I was… And I think that is something we can all relate too on some level. Which is also how I feel about Long Before. The difference between everything is a heartbeat so, keep your heart beating and all will work itself out.