just writing
quick morning words
and then back to working
on the thing i should have started
a month ago
but alas
the maybeHD
and procrastinatory tendencies
make it so
in this week
before the event
this is when my creativity
actually explodes
it’s so astounding how beneficial
the spring is to my
general
mood
i have literally been
hopeless
and helpless
for months
and then it warms up once
and i see a couple of green buds
on a couple of tree branches
and the sunlight hits
more and more of my day
and i say
“i can do this!”
writing to video game music
feeling the pressure of the world
of life saying
‘you’ve been here before
you’ll get out’
but all i’m hearing is
‘you’ve been here before’
‘you’ve been here before’
‘this has all happened before
and it will happen again’
and i can’t stop my mind from spinning
into the cycles and loop-de-loops
of life
and feeling so dizzy
i want it to stop
i want progress
not necessarily a straight line
but something
more forward moving
than this
constant
back again
back again
back again
it’s like humanity never learns
[and that may be our downfall]
what a fucking stupid country
i’ll be eloquent tomorrow
today i just need to scream
~~~
that’s not true,
i’ll write today
because i’m too numb to just walk around —
my strength comes from feeling
but i can’t feel anything but frustration
for so many people who would vote against
their own self-interests
against their own inalienable rights
[i guess they’re kind of alienable now, right?]
i keep staring off into space
and getting lost in my own
worst-case scenarios
which all come back to the conclusion
“i simply don’t wish to be in this timeline”
which is especially strong, stemming from
“i’ve already live through this once — i thought we had learned.”
there’s a quote
in the miniseries Stakes
that’s part of the animated tv show Adventure Time
and it goes something like this:
[pause for me to find the complete quote, because i will]
the Vampire King asks Marceline:
“What’s the one thing you’ve noticed about the world since you beat me all those hundreds of years ago?”
to which Marceline replies:
“Everything repeats over and over again. No one learns anything because no one lives long enough to see the pattern, i guess.”
“But you’ve lived long enough.”
the Vampire King replies
and i kind of feel like i
have lived a thousand years
and seen the cycles and patterns repeating
over and over and over again
and am the only one who has learned
anything
[i guess it’s true what they say about studying history: you may not be doomed to repeat it, but you’ll be so frustrated as you watch everyone else repeat it that you lose all respect for humanity as a whole]
[i may be paraphrasing/adding to that, but the sentiment still stands]
~~~
i’m sickened
i’m scared
and i’m not even that frightened for myself — we’re in an overwhelmingly blue city
in the midst of a fairly solidly blue state
[and if New York were to secede, we’d be pretty
self-sufficient immediately]
i’m worried for all the folks who will be hurt
physically
emotionally
psychologically
from this egomaniacal walking talking cheeto
whose only desire
is to stay out of jail
and make himself more money
and the cult of hatred that follows him.
i wish i could believe in humanity
again/
ever
wounds
from circus
are worse than bruises
because they are usually burns
and they continue to make me squirm
in showers to clean them
and days afterwards
if they need band-aids
and then, finally, when they’ve stopped looking like
peeled flesh
and grossness,
and the healing process has set well in
the itch
is all-consuming
and unimaginably annoying
and because i usually never get them this bad
i can forget this stage
but right now
this healing thing on my ankle
is all my conscious can think about
and how much i want to scratch my whole skin off
but then the process would just start
all over again…
maybe
i’m just at the end of my
pretending rope/
my imaginary me that makes
me
happy-go-lucky
bubbly and rainbow-y
and i’m starting to see through to my
utter core of goth/emo/darkness —
maybe this pretend me was me
for a time
and maybe this lower me is only a phase
or maybe this is my cycle,
this is my burden to bare
or carry
or lift up into the air
because cycles are natural
time is cyclical
and people live and die and live again in our heads
and everything circles back to the beginning
again
the thing they don’t tell you
about using your own body as art
is that some days
and even some weeks
things will feel harder/
take longer/
not align the way you’re used to/
but
if you push through
build the strength/endurance/technique you need
you’ll survive those times
and come out the other side
even more artful than you were
(at least that’s what i’m counting on—
i might still be in ‘one of those weeks’
even now
we’ll see
we’ll see)
[im]perfection
plagues my mind
i strive for it
though i know it’s
unattainable
i try to rewire
rewrite
the narrative
the choice
to choose imperfection
but the core of me whispers
‘what if you’re just not trying hard enough
and you
and only you
are the one person who could do it
perfectly
and you’re just proving how much of a failure you are
by choosing
not to
try’
and i am stuck
in this cycle
never-ending
that only ends in
failure
failure
failure
a failing
of
me
the mood:
negative
the mood:
dour
the mood:
almost happy
for a little while
the mood:
existential
the mood:
hopeless
the mood:
hopeful
for once
hold on to it
it’s gone
the mood:
emptiness
is there a mood at all?
the mood:
cyclical
i should be used to it by now
the mood:
ever-changing
ever-growing
ever-morphing
into a new mood
a new emotion
a new thing to think and remember and grow
the mood:
i’m not worried
about my mood
(is
this
happiness?)
the mood:
how did i even get here?
to this place?
to this age?
to this mood?
to this hair?
to this me?
the mood:
the mood:
the mood:
[did i discover anything of substance?]
the connections
i make
at night
when the mind has been
working hard all day
and scrambling to make sense
of a world that just
doesn’t—
those are some of the smartest
clearest
most profound connections
i’ve made—
and i always rely on
the morning
to write them
—
but by then
they’re gone
kipventures 