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Temporal Lobe

February 25th, 2009

Identity and time.  I wrote this a long time ago, and then ditched it.  I like it again.

this is in my head
I can feel it in my sleep
it’s all that I am
and all I ever need

on the day that I was born
millions did the same
10,000 days have passed
countless yet to come

anywhere I go
wherever I be, it’s me

when I’m old in my body
strain to feel and fail to see
I’ll be on my way
I don’t plan to stay

anywhere I go
wherever I be, it’s me

the 10,000 days thing is literal. When I was 27, I calculated the number of days I had been alive and found that I was like 9,995 days old. My friend Cray and I went for drinks to celebrate my 10,000th day.


I went out tonight.

July 6th, 2008

One of the big root causes of my depression is that I value life too much.  With all the possibilities and complexities, I’m disappointed in myself for not doing more with it, disappointed with others for perpetuating easy terrain, and disappointed with the world for degrading hope in favor of destruction and preserving the power of an elite segment of society.  It all seems really silly, half the shit we worry about, when put into the context of the absolute inevitable.  Death.

Possibility dissolves in death.   Suicide prevents possibilities worse then death.  To me, there are none.  Suffering is still experience and thus life.  The more I understand my role in the world, the more I realize how much I’m going to have to fight to fulfill it, and the further time goes on, the more tired I get.  That’s how the fantasy perpetuates itself.  If you reward fantastic thinking, realists become outsiders, and it doesn’t matter if anyone is right or wrong, only who follows.  Then you see how a flawed society can grow cancerous.  Were there such a thing as a collective consciousness, which there isn’t, we would stop to diagnose the cancer and remove it.  But society is not the sum of its parts, rather it is its average.  My difference to the world is canceled out by someone else’s, making it impossible to make any impression deep enough for me to sustain my own existence on my own terms.  But it’s the fact that my experience is my own, beginning and ending with the blood flowing into my brain, that makes it worth it.  It’s not a happy thought for me to think that that’s all that’s keeping me alive.


Dark

July 1st, 2008
the chores are done
the toys are all put away
you painted your life into a papery film
what’s left to say about it
it’s just what’s trapped in your head

you got me all wrong
can’t give me away
ripples in songs
I’ll take to my grave

we walk to our death
certain and pure
it’s less like a crash
and more like a break in the clouds
but don’t wait for the air to
reanimate you

don’t hold your breath
you’ll need it for that last spark
you’ll realize everything
and then it goes dark

you don’t get this again, so for once,
don’t look back

it’s a selfish appeal
to knowing that you’re still inside
of that one thing
that no one comes out of alive