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I’m still living the same day, different place, in the same house

May 28, 2012

I’m still living the same day, different place, in the same house. One might think that it would be hard to stand tall in a world with gravity pulling you down but some things get easier with time. One thing that I don’t understand, understanding that I will never understand anything, I get that, but what I don’t get are [once again, talking about the confidence] why people don’t see the things I see.

Looking at people I can see the lazers, the lights like Neo in the matrix.  No lie.  I look at people and products of people [art– everything], hear songs, emotions, things strictly meant for entertainment and see the beauty in the disaster.  Never putting my thumb down or casting my shadow, things like that happen for me, and you.  Still it is amazing how much one shadow in human embodiment can cancel out gravity for one with so much weight on them. [Think]  How can gravity be proved, really proved?  Go to the moon and drop a feather and a lead ball at the same time, go to the top of a building and jump off, go to a Dave Matthews concert and hear it in symphony?

Not enough.

I need something real.

Take shoulders and crotched backs, lift up arms with open hands, sit in chairs inside bodies of water. I need something to prove, right now I have nothing to prove, move, or become.  I am being myself and this thing called gravity is being itself, no way to prove either, no way to paint iether.  If people are listening I’d like to imagine it is because they want to believe in something, not me, I’m not that vain [although you might think there’s no way to prove that].  I am more of a vein in the body of Time.  Blood moves threw me, motionless inside of chaos.  I can hide or disguise my pain with antidotes or clever thought provoking words that will surely be my end, but at the beginning, that’s when you remember what you can’t forget, that’s what makes you push on. You can’t forget why, you, do, anything. 

Knowing that people out there want to care, hope, and dream gives me the hope I need, even if I am only an iceburg in water, melting into a sea of uneasy waves where ships pass and hunt out fresh meat, I can still remember that ice that kept me 1% above water and 99% below.

I like to think that I write for everyone except myself, but really my vice [like me to you] is the pleasure I get out of the ‘what did I just do’ question.  If you are on my street you can hear my undefendable laughs after.  Like when I described walking into a women’s bathroom and taking a shit in the most elegant of advancements; I like to imagine the looks on the faces when you get to the last line.  [I got a big smile on my face thinking about the smile on your face, right now]

But trying too figure all of this out brought me to a resolution, inside myself; about insecurities. [ofcourse] Why do I choose the topics that no one else dare, who cares.  No that wasn’t suppost to be a question and I just mixed up my finger patterns but it is not a trick either.

Think about this… about Being.

How many stages have you been threw in your blank life… we need an example so lets use porn, [something that everyone can relate to].  Like drugs can be anything, porn is just the rational way [growing up in the post-caveman world that we live in] to Feel; bluntly.

Everyone has their own form of pleasure they seek out, porn is just the beginning stages of a successful hobby in my own person falling from a boy to a man, waiting for the switch to fall at the end of the esile.  Like stages of a broadway play I have been growing my imagination in the bedroom from tapes of other peoples bedrooms [boats, streets, rooftops, clubs, Karma Sutra*], the same things with books, stories, and anything.  But it takes time to become satisfied, and it takes not becoming satisfied to become fulfilled, I think.

Anyone good at what they do tell you that you have to enjoy what you’re doing, not the watching aspect I am talking about the doing, the Fuck.  Looking in the eyes of these women [actresses] , seeing them move, It is harder than you would know.  If you think you can just jump into a camera owned bed with a pretty face and a burning pocket, you’ll find that you got another thing coming.  You can’t just do porn because you like it, you have to give fucks because you love it.  It’s sad to see when someone can’t figure out how to stroke, but when two can breath, punch, and fuck in unision with no one getting seriously hurt you can see how beautiful, controlled, and expressive Love can be.

There is a lot of communication without words when you’re watching one of these half hour plots of film.  After one or two you can tell that that asian girl lashed with whips and chains really doesn’t like the lashings, or you can tell that she really does.  It’s all in the Lighting. [get it]…[me either]

Power, I think, is a big part of the porn industry for the producers, getting off behind the camera, not thinking about the product.  I think it should be the other way, real life emotion on virtual cinema. Of course I have been dedicated to myself for quite a while relative to my life [puberty to present], but lately I have strayed away from the physical pleasures that give momentary satisfaction, action, and distraction.  I found a nut that feels better: writing.  But I can still say things that I have picked up over my short time in the shame-game.

See people don’t like to say that they watch porn in public because it might give away something, either that they do or don’t watch it, that they like something they don’t understand, or just that they can’t get real life laid.  I don’t trip because it really is too easy to get laid, if you wanted to you could, don’t kid yourself by saying that you’re to short or to fat or don’t have a six pack.  That’s not where it’s at, man.  Girls want something real just as much as we do, they look in all the same places, and interpret all the same phases with phrases from the same songs.  This is especially true when you find a nitch to fit into, be it music or anything.

So why would you be wrong if you EVER thought that you weren’t ‘good’ enough? Why would anyone not have a chance at anything? [I’m not talking about social mobility, thou it could be related to the ‘American dream’] Right now I am talking about sex, baby.

How many stages have you been threw in your own quest for the perfect errection, your own, of course.  NO MATTER WHO YOU ARE [STRAIGHT, CROOKED, LIGHT SKINNED, W/E, THE MOST IMPORTANT ERRECTION IN YOUR LIFE, IN  PLEASURE, IS YOURS.  No one can take that away from you, but more importantly no one can give that away to you, because that’s human nature. So why worry about your own insecurities looking for that feeling, your mind’s or your body’s?

Really, why!

You don’t know what other people are into.  You don’t know what other people are into. You might not like your face or think that your chin or eye brows are too big, you could say that your feet are too big or that door ways are too short because you’re big ass can’t fit, but something you do could be exactly, what, some, one, else, really digs.

Thinking about the stages I went through in my computer research of sex, the hours of personal research , the buckets of sweat from all over my body that accumulate in the air around my home, I can’t help but think what if I met a girl in the midst of one of my dark places, to be honest.  Who knows where I’d be.

Probably hanging by my feet in a latex baggy, air tight, straw poking out of my mouth for air, a midget hitting me with a plastic baseball bat while his lover, my lover, slaps me with her tits and rubs me off using crude oil and a sockumbopper.

Really?

I can’t say that has ever happened, but I won’t tell you it hasn’t.

Hope in having hope is a powerful thing to give yourself, mankind is a opportunists beast so believe in and fight for.  This one white butterfly could die and raise, each day a new babe, but to me it is always my one, white, butterfly. 

How this relates to porn, obvious. How porn relates to life, obvious. How people relate to life, no clue.

I guess this is just one more thing that I will say and no one will hear because of the music behind my movements, but hey I gotta try to tell someone, something, sometime.  Probably not correct, less right, and even offensive, but like I said I have a sick sick pleasure about people and their reactions to actions, sex being the easiest and most talked, thought, hoped about thing for people my age and under, so there it is.

Blunt.

You don’t have to like yourself for someone to appreciate what you don’t even see in the mirror.  Have you ever noticed the lag that comes from the ‘man in the mirror’, your eyes can’t really capture everything, no way.  But when you’re out walking the street, ticking, tocking, people see something that couldn’t be recreated in the most controlled and virtual Hollywood studios. This is also why I think a new thing should start to happen where television is filled with not only text book but filled with people that are confident and ‘move to the beat of their own drum’– Beautifuls.  It is really the only place that TV can go.  Think about the movie ‘Money Ball’, ironically Brad Pitt is talking about how baseball players get drafted because of their aesthetics instead of their ability, solely. 

I don’t feel crooked at all saying that he has a face. 

But think about how many really attractive people are too attractive, no one wants to watch that.  Only room for them in the ancient stories of gods, bluntly.  I would go as far as saying that these really good looking people hate playing the lookers, I know that I am not the best or the worst, but you call me a pretty boy and I’ll throw dirt on all our faces.  Might sound like I’m lying, but I don’t like being good looking, worrying about the body attraction over the mental is something that stresses me out.  That is why I envy people who can wear their skin no matter what they see in the mirror. Not worrying. Not wanting. Not needing. Approval.

I’ll give you the dark side of attraction because I want to hear if anyone else feels it.  I am new at this writing thing relatively, so I can’t think about how I look doing it because I am—in a process.  I am dumb enough to know what buttons trigger what, I am smart enough to not consider because I have a plan.  I know that I have to give into society in order to reach more people, to Be—a writer.  It does piss me off the way things are going but you really have to play the cards.  Interaction can be a powerful tool but maybe it is better this way, no one has to answer to anyone, no accountability on a private level.

For the record…

Imagination is the best tool for attention span I have found, but the point is that at any point in time someone might be just fucked up enough to Love you.  That is really the only thing that keeps me calm and collected. That and one white butterfly in my yard each morning, sounds lame and tamed but I don’t need much excitement in my life.  I try to make the small things count as much as they can, maybe to save my youth and not to desensitize my own emotional pallet, or maybe just because I Love butterflies. 

Hope in having hope is a powerful thing to give yourself, mankind is a opportunists beast so believe in and fight for.  This one white butterfly could die and raise, each day a new babe, but to me it is always my one, white, butterfly. 

How this relates to porn, obvious. How porn relates to life, obvious. How people relate to life, no clue.

I guess this is just one more thing that I will say and no one will hear because of the music behind my movements, but hey I gotta try to tell someone, something, sometime.  Probably not correct, less right, and even offensive, but like I said I have a sick sick pleasure about people and their reactions to actions, sex being the easiest and most talked, thought, hoped about thing for people my age and under, so there it is.

Blunt.

You don’t have to like yourself for someone to appreciate what you don’t even see in the mirror.  Have you ever noticed the lag that comes from the ‘man in the mirror’, your eyes can’t really capture everything, no way.  But when you’re out walking the street, ticking, tocking, people see something that couldn’t be recreated in the most controlled and virtual Hollywood studios. This is also why I think a new thing should start to happen where television is filled with not only text book but filled with people that are confident and ‘move to the beat of their own drum’– Beautifuls.  It is really the only place that TV can go.  Think about the movie ‘Money Ball’, ironically Brad Pitt is talking about how baseball players get drafted because of their aesthetics instead of their ability, solely. 

I don’t feel crooked at all saying that he has a face. 

But think about how many really attractive people are too attractive, no one wants to watch that.  Only room for them in the ancient stories of gods, bluntly.  I would go as far as saying that these really good looking people hate playing the lookers, I know that I am not the best or the worst, but you call me pretty and I’ll throw dirt on all our faces.  Might sound like I’m lying, but I don’t like being good looking, worrying about the body attraction over the mental is something that stresses me out.  That is why I envy people who can wear their skin no matter what they see in the mirror. Not worrying. Not wanting. Not needing. Approval.

That is my mental instabilities and non-securities.

I’ll give you the dark side of attraction because I want to hear if anyone else feels it.  I am new at this writing thing relatively, so I can’t think about how I look doing it because I am—in a process.  I am dumb enough to know what buttons trigger what, I am smart enough to not consider because I have a plan.  I know that I have to give into society in order to reach more people, to Be—a writer.  It does piss me off the way things are going but you really have to play the cards.  Interaction can be a powerful tool but maybe it is better this way, no one has to answer to anyone, no accountability on a private level.

For the record…

…I don’t think we can Understand.

Any attempt is just job security for the wisemen who can persevere thru the text books that will be wrong by publication, especially if this Reaches.  Ask me who I want this to reach, I wouldn’t know.  I just want people to get the best out of their sexual experiences, their relationships, and own mental trains of thought [while getting my nut].  I said it in my book, ‘I am to young to talk about real growth in a person’s soul, but I can speculate.

You say that writing about what people don’t think about will make you lonely because people will think you’re judging them, maybe, I’m not though.  I just have never really been able to feel the way I perceive others doing, so I read about it, then when I see all these thing on TV and see people living the same lives as these reality shows, entertainment, I think I have some answers to the questions no one knows how to word. 

Spock? No..

I am getting better, but for the most part, hollow, a void check waiting to be cashed, but trying to feel is better than trying not to feel.  The Day is the life, “that’s why I know my life is out of love, fool”. When you ‘realize’ the sun doesn’t move you’re done for– Emotionally. Cool to say but nothing to be. Nothing. Just words in a closed mouth, open heart, and empty arms.   Don’t feel anything for me because you know I won’t.  A waste of time in a timeless place– [it is sentences like that that keep me going, the chill right now on my face, not the ego in my grace]  

Sad to some, hope to some, nothing to me.  I don’t want ego to be any kind of precursor to my life so I kill it any chance I get; until someone trusts me enough to take me for me, then ego will just Be.  No one ever claims to be dependable, or reliable, or intangible.  These are given passively and taken actively.  Why I won’t understand how people get upset with not remembering their names.  Beside the congeniality of being punctual, a name says literally nothing about why you are, so why remember it.  Instead when I meet a girl I remember the way her shorts rest on her hips bones, how her hair falls over eyes of open green, or the look when balance is lost.  See the pain in happiness and the joke in what, is, not, funny. How could a title give any more importance to a being that is yet to be completed, or how can people be seen as continuous rather than competent?  If I had a grand title, a name that rocked the tile when announced it would only be the volume not the value that shocked the world.  Humbling to some, ramblings to others.

BUT Remember I don’t want to change anyone!

I envy the blank, and the blank.  However you find what you’re looking for is what I’m looking for. If the meek inherit the earth what is left for me, and how long will they wait to collect Theirs? Would you know it if you had it—the world?  Would the world even give itself to someone like you? –A freak.

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