death of my space

Today i killed myspace. It made me feel very uncomfortable. This "blog" also supplies me with the same feeling. But i cannot kill this. This serves as the cave of my lost memories. I like that you read it, even when you pretend not to.

all on accounts

i'm gonna be free
i'm gonna be free
of at least one of these three things
i'm gonna be free

thirteen spirits of the ocean top
the wetness of the restroom mop
and a heart that can never stop
heartin' away

i'm gonna be free
i'm gonna be free
of at least one of these two things
i'm gonna be free

to be the feast of insatiable beasts
and to linger, longer inbetween
either that or make believe
a dreamer of dreams and deceit

i'm gonna be free
i'm gonna be free
of at least this one little thing
i'm gonna be free

entranced upon the lights of preen
and the mirrors that bring them back to me
of at least this little thing
i'm gonna be free

Tautology 101

The pursuit of happiness seems to be the antithesis to the "meaning of life". Happiness was dreamt of in the early industrial period of modern, firstworld countries to replace the idea of calm and natural simplitude for a complicated model of machinery that confuses the mind.

The invention and distribution of the automobile has given people the mobility to amass together at any given whim. It no longer takes a 20 day wagon trek to reach the ones you want to see. These days, it is a 2 hour flight, or a collect call or instant message. These conveniences steal away from the growth of longing for estranged friends and loved ones. Why send letters with drawings and pictures when there's the FWD:Message, and why even call when there is text? The modern everyday use of these amenities creates a lack of personal drive to connect to anyone. To miss and to long for is no longer the motivation for communication. We now have other things to replace the space for sentimentality, sincerity, and intimacy.

But this is not the only arena to where the clouds have gathered. This is only where I begin. I am a sham, and have a quote to express just that.

"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation." Ironically and admittedly so, I know not the author.


I hate myspace, i hate my blog. I grow ashamed of my impotent flow of curiousity that navigates my mouse around its wearing pad. I don't like this matrix-esque network of bodyless and unconstrained ego. People begin to substitute their myspace feelings with the feelings of my space. I begin to think of intermediaries as acquaintances and my true friends as but top 8 billboard marketing and political statements. And i rarely look anyone in the eye anymore.

I am not going to cease my behavior, though. And neither will you. You are going to continue comparing your real life to their fake profiles, and I am going to continue contrasting my recycled garbage posts with similar, yet not as elequent angry prose. I'll have to spend more time trying to harnessing my strengths in order to break away from the shells that I, you, and everybody else has casted upon us all.
And this ain't even the beginning, i've got a whole buttload of shit to splatter on these interspacial, matterless "pages", but i have work to complete, so that i may get paid, and buy more things that will make me feel more like a real human being.

"I can resist everything except temptation."---and well, this one i know, good ol' wilde.

AMs

"People do not wish to appear foolish; to avoid the appearance of
foolishness, they are willing to remain actually fools."

I feel like a fool habitually. I will admit that. And, actually I will admit anything else should i be asked in a responsible manner. I like the appearance of having much to hide without any of the cunning that lifestyle requires. My dreams give it away to me while my eyes to you. I did not intend to leave my post for so long. There, now it is less obvious. I have many plans to dote upon now, farewell.

PG-13

[ We were in the back of a large U-haul-esque truck. We were propped and cushioned on furniture. I don't know who was driving, i'm sure it doesn't matter. My head was on yr shoulder. It was night time. We were finally there, we let ourselves out. We were the only thing that could focus. It was me who leaned in. Of course, right? Right. You kissed for a bit. Then you pushed me down by my shoulders. I lost my balance and fell onto the concrete. The street scraped my hands. I believe you said "no". But i wasn't listening anymore. By then, i only laughed. I was able to control my laugh, and i laughed at you, forever dumb. ]


{em0tion is dead}---its gone to my head. if you were to ever ask...it is this in which i dream of you. i barely even recognize this haunted, hollow holiday anymore.

Butterball

I wouldn't be surprised if you were to tell me that the real reason you left it like that was because of the butterball. Status like that isn't in very high demand, and you're a businessman. I've watched you in action, alive in yr tie, and webby. I'm embarrassed to say so. You'd be embarrassed too if you hadn't that ego.

Decisions

I am having trouble deciding whether to drink my 2nd Pyramid Hefeweizen, or save it for my dad. You see, I really want that beer. It has been in the fridge since Tuesday, and today is Friday. I bought the 12er in attempt to have some nice classy beer around for relaxing after an annoying day's work. Only, I drank 7 of them immediately. No, not alone. I mean, environmentally I was alone. However, i was speaking to friends over the phone, so it's all good, right. Not pathetic, right? When my father came home that night, (the decision has been made, I'm about to get up from my seat and walk to the refrigerator). Done, it is in my mouth.

However, I was saying, that when my father came home, he was excited by the HefeWeizen. I had only introduced him to it about a week ago at Applebees. We go there, sometimes, but only because of its proximity, never for the environment. Before I knew it, he had the Heff in a large stein and a lemon floating in the head. It was cute. So, you see, i am a very selfish person with alcoholic tendencies. I very much wanted to save it for my dad, because it would make him much more happy than i feel as I take the drink during this.....pause. I drink to unfocus important concerns and turn focus to trivial, yet discomforting topics. But I must stray, because my original intent was to make a decision, and I managed to succeed in that one venture.

The Gentle Cycle

Some mistakes I make on purpose, so that I will have something to do and somewhere to go. I've been in the secret room with all those pictures on the wall and fire on the floor. I am too curious to be afraid. I find ways around the fear. I'm too stubborn and tricky to be defeated, especially by someone as awkwardly uncouth as myself. All those secrets stem from a worry that the true self is unfit for where it lies, thereby smothered in the desire to keep it from all the others. Hidden from anyone who cares enough to think? No. Hidden from me? No. I'm as transparent as a mirror image. I was formed of my surroundings. I am a product of the ebb of nurture and the flow of suture. Pardon my opinion, for it is nothing but mere consequence and conjecture. Leave me alone, and i will explain minutes before my last breath, should i be given the chance. I'd relinquish more if i hadn't been told that i was being watched. I was told i was no good at pretend. Little did they know, that i was only pretending to pretend. No, i wasn't. I just wanted to write something that would draw attention away from my last post. Only now, it causes greater attention. There, an example of pretending to pretend. Goodnight my sweet nothing, you are everything, in disguise.