It seems that for the most part, every time I’m up here and I have nothing really planned, I would come to the local mom & pop’s coffee shop and just do some writing. Today is no different. The past couple of days have been no different.

It’s always the same.

My mom sleeps in late and either my brother is already at work by the time I wake up or he wakes up late. It’s what I get for being an early bird. I just have to find things to do to occupy myself and I really don’t mind. It gives me the alone time that I kind of strive for.

I don’t even remember how many entries that I have already, two? It is the way it is and I expect more entries this week.

I just hope that I have enough content to spew out before the end of my time here in the beautiful wet and cold Northwest.

* * *

An old high school friend of mine started a blog a few weeks or maybe even months back. She wanted to know what people’s definition of love is. It doesn’t have to be the lovey-dovey kind of love, but any kind of love. Her blog is located here.

It seems that she’s the only one who posted anything to it. It is a lot to ask of someone to write down something that might be possibly live on the internet forever and forever.

She asked me to put something in there when she thought of the idea and I thought I would. I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.

Love…what is it? What am I going to write about? I have no clue.

I never really thought about it much, but I’m sure I’ll post something. Maybe here and there.

* * *

Love.

…is all around us as the song goes. Love is all around us.

There’s no escaping it, as we look around for the most part, it’s everywhere. The person next to you may have been created from a night of love making, a testament of love between two people.

The couple holding hands while walking down the street, they are most likely in love.

Even a cynical jaded fool like I am can see it. It’s all around. There’s no escaping it.

Growing up, I didn’t really get the full blown Brady Bunch text book definition of what a loving family is. My family showed it in other ways; ways of putting in hours and hours of work, food on the table, and a roof over our heads; the necessities of making a family feel more secure in life.

I didn’t grow up with that many friends. For the most part, I was and still am the loner off doing my own thing. Even though I have always been surrounded by people, at school, at work, out and about, I always feel alone. Though it is less so now than when I was young and angsty. But alone still.

Now, being alone doesn’t always mean that I’m always lonely.

You see, I actually enjoy being alone. That’s pretty much the definition of the anti-social loner hermit that I am. It’s just how I roll.

Besides the normal familial love that I grew up having, I hardly ever felt love of any other kind.

Sure there were the love of lust and the painful unrequited nature. I’m sure all have been there and all can relate, but overall, I never really loved anyone or anything besides family.

That for me changed a few years ago and I do have to say it changed my life, it saved my life.

It’s my love for Pickles.

Pickles here isn’t the salty sour food that many love to devour, but a friend, a buddy of the four legged furry kind. Pickles is my furry son, a 6 1/2-year-old Pit Bull Labrador mutt.

He’s just a darling.

I don’t have kids, but having him feels like I do.

For the most part, I’m sure it is easier than a kid, but damn, if he doesn’t test my patience.

Having him for the past 6 years or so, he really taught me a few things about life, love, and patience.

With him I’ve gone through peeing, diarrhea, puke, and other liquidy juicy goodness on the carpet. I’ve gone through dug up carpet, chewed up blinds, curtains, door knobs, and broken door jams.

Sure I was angry, pissed, but you know, I learned to let these things go. Pickles couldn’t help it. He’s stuck at home alone all day while I’m trudging away in the office.

Thankfully he’s grown out most of those, except for the spiteful peeing, but again, just let it go. He has feelings too and sometimes he just needs to go.

Just buy a carpet cleaner and let things be.

He’s broken out of my apartment a total of three times, from my brother’s back yard once, and a cousin’s backyard in Portland, OR twice; a parent’s worse nightmare, a lost kid in a strange city. But thankfully he’s able to find his way home or a stranger was kind enough to wrangle him in and give me a call.

Love is also when he’s not feeling well and he can’t really tell you what is wrong. He’ll wake you up in the middle of the night (2-3 AM) in the morning, him breathing in your face; his two front paws on the bed; you peel your eyes open and you see the outline of his head right next to yours just staring at you. You tell him to go back to bed, push him away but he doesn’t budge.

You get your sleepy ass out of bed and take him out to the front, thinking he needs to pee. He does his business and you go back to bed thinking it is done, you fall quickly back to sleep. Ten minutes later, he’s doing the same thing and the routine continues, you push him away, he doesn’t budge, you take him out, but this time he doesn’t go.

Pissed, tired, and grumpy, you realize something is wrong and he needs a walk. You put on shoes, glasses, and fetch him up with his harness and leash and take him out for a walk in the middle of the night.

Why? Because you know he won’t leave you alone until he gets his walk. Sure, but more importantly you know that there is something wrong and he needs to just go.

And it isn’t near the end of the walk that he squats down and explodes the nastiest, foulest, diarrhea you’ve ever seen.

Then, at that moment, any anger you had towards him for dragging your sorry ass out of bed disappears and you just feel sorry for the little guy and you ask him why didn’t he tell you before he had an upset stomach? You start to baby him, hold him, telling him everything will be okay.

Before I got my four legged son, I never thought I’d be so attached to him, that I would actually physically miss his presence.

The little guy, all 60 pounds of him sleeps with me, for the most part, unless it is just way too hot in bed with me or he’s just pissed off at me for dumping him somewhere while I’m on vacation. So, when I first got him, he’s been sleeping with me even though he has a bed on the floor at the foot of my bed.

It was just a few weeks after I got him that I went back to Seattle to visit my family. I remember waking up in the middle of the night one night and didn’t feel Pickles next to me. I got worried, then realize that I’m not home and he’s not with me. I really missed him, curled up next to me, sleeping.

The longer he’s been with me, the longer that I notice that his personality is a lot like mine. There are times that I wonder if he was like me to begin with or if he just picked up and adapted to my personality.

He’s very chill, mellow, and antisocial in many ways. Going to dog parks, he would mingle for a bit and then he’ll be off doing his own thing by himself. That’s like me in any social event. I’ll do my quick mingling and then I’m ready to go.

His love of hiking and traveling is another thing that I love about my pooch. He’s more gung ho about hiking then I am, never wanting to rest and just keep trudging on. He’s been by my side on many solo hiking trips and solo road trips. He’s an adventurer like me and for that, I love him.

The look on his face whenever he senses that there’s a big trip coming up, his wagging tail, him running around the small living room, crashing into my legs, just waiting to bolt out the door. It just makes me smile and laugh, even if he isn’t tagging along, the thought of him excited to go with me, to be with me. If that isn’t love right there, then what is?

It’s a little sad to see him get deflated when I tell him that he can’t go. His whole demeanor changes, confused, tail down. It tears away at my heart disappointing him like that, but sometimes he just can’t go.

It wasn’t until recently that I can relate to actual parents dropping their kids off at school for the first time. The heart pangs of leaving them at a new unfamiliar place, feeling scared, and vulnerable. I had to drop him off at a boarder’s for my recent trip home for Thanksgiving. Usually I’m able to find a sitter, but this time wasn’t.

Dropping him off, seeing him get comfortable, sniffing the other dogs, I felt a little bit better that he’ll get along with the other dogs. As I step out and the door closed behind me, my chest started to tighten, my heart was aching. I’m leaving my son at a strange new place for a whole week. I wonder how he’s doing now, if he’s making friends, fitting in. I certainly hope so.

And as much as I do for him, he does a lot for me. He will always be there to lick away my tears whenever I just have one of my moments. He’s just always there to comfort me.

It’s weird how much I would be treating him as a person instead of the dog that he is. I know he’s just a dog. I see him as a dog, but he’s everything to me.

I guess that is what happens when you actually love someone, love something.

They are your everything.

* * *

Another day has gone, another day lived.

Sitting here at Tolino’s again, doing the thing that I do, I try to think about what to write.

Having had our yearly Family Thanksgiving get-together yesterday, I have to in a way uncompress from the hub-bub that happened yesterday. The many kids running around, playing, screaming. The many food, and the many new strangers and family members there that had to catch up and just be with.

It was a surprise, but really wasn’t that there wasn’t more family that partake on the gathering. Considering that everyone is so spread out now, off in their own little cities, busy in their own lives — doing their own thing, it’s understandable.

It seems like there was always a core group of family members that partake in these things, and it seems to me like they are more the family oriented ones. Menty, Phinny, Hien, and Loretta. The usuals I guess. I’m sure if the others could, they would be here.

Family of the previous generation is getting smaller and smaller. There, it was only mom and 14th uncle. I guess that is how it is, since he’s the only Uncle we have left up in the Northwest. Our little own Jedi Council is getting smaller and smaller and it’s just sad.

Life. Growing up. Eventually we all have to go.

The stories that are shared about the past will always be there, but the storytellers are getting smaller and smaller. Their recollections are still there, but it’s only one point of view instead of the many that I’ve heard from in the past.

Life.

Listening to the stories last night as told by 14th Uncle/Auntie and Mom, it’s a little sad at what my family had gone through, how much they have to suffer to just get to where they are now. They survived not one, but two fleeings, rebuilding their lives all over again. They gave up everything they had more times than anyone should have and gambled on a new livelihood, on a new life anywhere.

And they did that. I came from a family of survivors. WE came from a family of survivors.

* * *

It was around 1954, when Chiang Kai-shek took over the Nationalistic Revolution and forced Sun Yat-sen out of China to Taiwan.

At that time, Grandpa and Grandma have been pretty much run out of the country. Their family had to flee along with Great Uncle and Great Grandpa. Their whole family.

On my Grandpa’s side, they had to take 2nd Uncle, 3rd Uncle, 5th Uncle, 7th Uncle and 14th Uncle. 14th Uncle was around 4 at this time.

They left everything they had. They were poor. There wasn’t anything they could do.

I’m not sure where they fled to, but it was southeast China, near the Vietnamese border. Grandpa took a job at the quarry, breaking rocks. Grandma I believe made coal.

To my surprise, they had to make coal by hand. They have to squeeze the coal together into the balls that they use now. I can’t imagine how they would go about doing that, nor the dust that Grandma probably inhaled while doing it.

They didn’t ‘have much to eat at all. A nightly dinner would be congee with sweet potatoes, and the congee would mostly be water. Grandpa, grandma and maybe some of the older uncles would just drink the congee water and let 14th uncle have the actual rice.

There was another time when Grandma would take 14th uncle with her to go bargain for rice. With 14th Uncle strapped to her back, Grandma would go stall to stall asking for the vendors to give them some rice. She’ll bargain with them, give me some rice and when we get some money, we’ll pay you back. If they said no, they’ll move onto the next one.

One day, while doing this, I’m not sure if the other Uncles were with them or not, they came across a wealthy Chinaman. Instead of giving them rice or money to help out, he wanted to buy one of my grandparent’s children. Because they have so many children and they are poor, it was an option and apparently it happened a lot back them.

The Chinaman had his eye on 14th uncle and it seemed that Grandma agreed to sell him. Money exchanged hands and 14th uncle went and hid underneath the table and grabbed on for dear life to a table leg. Crying, fighting, he never let go, not wanting to go.

I guess eventually, the Chinaman relented and my grandparents decided that we will all starve together as a family then sell one of their children.

I can’t even fathom or imagine having to do something like that; having to sell one of your children so the other children wouldn’t starve. How can you choose? Would you be able to do that? Could you?

* * *

Getting to Vietnam.

It seemed that Grandma’s brother lived in North Vietnam around this time, about 1955 or so. There’s a little straight or bay or whatever that is separating China from Vietnam. Grandma’s brother studied the tides and knows when the tides would be high or low enough to cross.

Once he got it down, he passed word to my family on when to cross.

Grandpa and Grandma had to split the family in two, each having to cross at separate times. At this time Great Grandpa was with them also. Either way, they had to cross this lil’ straight/bay at different times.

Why?

Because if they get captured or gunned down, there’s still a chance that the family will not be annihilated ’cause there is still another half of the family left. The ingrained nature to have your family survive; increase the chances that your family will survive by separating them.

But, that’s what they did. They separated and they crossed at different times. I don’t know how many days or weeks between crossing, but they did it and they finally reunited in North Vietnam.

It was there that Great Grandpa died. Apparently he got buried at a top of a mountain or a really big hill. It was around the time that when we first got to the States, one of our Great Uncles went back to the burial site, collected his bones and brought it back to China for a burial.

* * *

North to South.

Like how they gave up everything to flee from China, my Grandparents gave up everything to move from North to South Vietnam, eventually ending up in Saigon.

I’m not sure of the circumstance, but they got on a big boat, like a sanctioned move, and sailed down to Saigon. There they stayed.

While they were in Saigon, there was word that there was a job opportunity to work in Long Khanh. Grandpa went by himself to do it.

The job? To clear-cut the forest to make it inhabitable. The pay? Whatever you clear-cut, the land is yours.

While he was doing it by himself, Grandma and the rest of the family stayed in Saigon. Eventually 2nd uncle went up there to help him.

Now I understood how we were able to get the farmland. That was one aspect I didn’t understand doing my years of researching and listening to the stories, how we got the farmland. I mean, if we were so poor, how were we able to pay for the land to farm.

We paid for it through manual labor, sweat and blood. Grandpa cleared his land by hand.

They would clear the outline of the land first, leaving whatever inside. The idea is to get as much land as you want, carve out the border first and worry about the inside later.

It’s kind of like the Oklahoma land race back in the day, but this is the Vietnamese clear-cutting race.

And then here we are. Again, the 70s, after the war, we gave up everything, risked our lives to get to where we are now.

A family of survivors.

* * *

The above isn’t the best writing, but I’m not going to worry about the style as the content is more important.

I’m sure I’ll come back to it on another entry later, eventually as I just let the new stories and information settle in my mind a bit. I just wanted to get it down before I forget the details of it.

Just listening to 14th Uncle and my mom tell the stories and seeing how they are able to laugh about the hardship they had endured. Even listening to Phinny laugh about the times on the boat while fleeing Vietnam, how he remembered the time at the Thai refugee camp, him fishing with a bottle and twine.

I guess once everything is okay, you can’t help but laugh at it. You kind of have to, relieved that things are finally okay. Nothing to endure anymore.

The only thing you have to worry about now is having a job, making enough money to support your family, put a roof over your head.

Life.

I’ve been trying to do this for years.

The you? It’s me.

I’ve been slowly picking away at my issues, my faults, my flaws. Slowly, but surely, I’ve been overcoming these little issues and quirks I have and have made leaps and bounds to get to where I am today.

I know many of you may not see the change, for you all may have known me after much of the work has been done.

Others, like family may have seen that change. That glimmer of hope that you all clanged on to when I was down and out, it happened.

Thank you for believing in me.

But, all in all, am I truly fixed? I don’t think I can honestly answer that.

Like I always like to say, and it’s true, I always do like to say: We all have our baggage. We all have our shit.

Usually I don’t do them both together like that, but the gist is there. We all have our issues, our inner demons that we need to deal with, to keep in check on a daily basis.

I am no different than you.

Your quirks, flaws, demons may be less than mine or even worse than mine, but it is ours and ours alone.

It is just going to take a while to fix them all, to accept them, and maybe just deal with them or not let them bother you anymore.

I don’t know.

Eventually it’ll happen, but I do have to declare, this fine specimen that is typing away at this, this lil’ diddy that you are reading currently, is a much better person.

I’m still not fixed, but I’m constantly taking a step closer in the right direction.

* * *

I had a late start today, as I had a late night last night, getting into my hometown late last night and having a late dinner.

A late start, but still early for my usual diatribe. I don’t expect anyone being awake by the time I get back anyway.

* * *

I’ve been on a contemplative mood as of late and also more horny than usual.

Getting these ideas of banging someone I never thought I would ever bang, and I can’t get them out of my head.

And it’s not like it is someone that I ever thought about starting anything with, but if it was strictly casual, sure, but relationship wise — never crossed my mind.

Blah.

* * *

Back to being contemplative, back to the grind and the finger tapping of things.

Again, I’m back in my ol’ stomping grounds. This is the first time in years that I’ve been back for Thanksgiving. I’m usually a Christmas tripper ’cause the office gives us a free week then so I wouldn’t have to use any of my valuable vacation time, but I opted to go back here.

I think it is more that I haven’t had a really big family soiree in a while, that didn’t have to do with death. Thanksgiving was the most ideal time, I guess.

So, I’ll be partaking in our annual Weekend-Before-Thanksgiving-Dinner dinner on Sunday. It should be exciting and fun, hopefully.

Also, I am really really looking forward to spending the week off alone, spending Christmas alone and picking up my LA-Christmas tradition again.

Volunteering and road tripping.

I think it is much needed for me, right now.

* * *

There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed.

Everything changes. Everywhere changes.

Walking through the Sea-Tac Airport last night, it looked so different. Even LAX looked a little different.

Everything is changing around me and the change seems to be coming so fast.

I, in a way have been changing also.

I keep going back and saying how I learn something new each year and in a way, this year is no different.

I’m sure I’ll be touching upon it during my year end diatribe, but I’ll type it here too, ’cause I just need to keep my fingers tapping.

I’ve been really social this year. It really has been a social year for me.

In a way it is good for me, to go out, get out, and be with people. But again, there are times where it just feels awkward, me being the odd man out, never really fitting in any group or truly belonging anywhere within the dynamic of the groups set up by environment.

can you imagine when this race is run, turn our golden faces to the sun

It was good bye to someone the other day, her last day at work.

I know with many in my life, once they are out of my life, they kind of stay out of my life. Out of sight, out of mind. Sure there will be rumblings of contact here and there, but eventually things fade like most things do. The connections that bonded them slowly untwine and become weak, eventually just getting to the point of being so frayed that it just simply can’t maintain that connection anymore.

It’s sad, I know, but still…that’s life.

But her last day. Gone gone gone.

The Ghrofson for some reason really wanted me to go to her happy hour that night. I thought the drunken night of sobering that I definitely needed and her night of venting that she seemed to need would be enough of a goodbye, but I guess not.

Knowing how upset she would be, I kind of experimented. I basically told her I wasn’t going to go. I texted her BYE! and didn’t answer her call when she called, even deciding to show up late.

Apparently she was pissed, thinking I have mental issues, not believing that I would just totally leave.

I would, but that would just seem so mean.

For whatever it is worth, she was cool in my book. We were able to bond in many ways other than the superficial; she even saw me cry.

You don’t really ever forget people you cried in front of. You just don’t, especially someone like me who has an elephant’s memory.

Thinking back, maybe she is right. She’s my voice of reason, my voice from the inside and ultimately I just need to move on.

Nothing is going to happen and I just needed someone else to tell me that. There’s no point in keeping the hope alive if there was nothing there to begin with.

Groups. A demarcation of not fitting in. A loner will always be a loner no matter how hard he tries to fit in anywhere.

Small groups segregate from each other. Each talking about their own little inside talks that they are only privy too whereas an outsider will not know, understand, and in a way not care what it is that they are talking about.

I had no insiders with me, no one to really latch on to. None of my crew was there.

I was alone.

Even when she was there with me for a little bit, as I got her a drink, I never really got to bond. Seeing her, drifting off, just right next to me even but yet feeling like we’re galaxies apart.

It’s just my heart, screaming out, reaching out and my subconscious sabotaging everything.

Eventually I left, finishing my sad satellite, I left. I reached out, said my goodbyes and scrambled off. I didn’t need to be there anymore, didn’t want to be there anymore. I had other things to do, to get ready for as I prepare to leave on my trip.

Each on their own, in their own circle. Some circles overlap, some circles roll together, whereas others are stranded. I’m not even a circle. I’m a dot, a period. End. Stop.

the show goes on all night

I love you, you know that? I really love you.

As we said our goodbyes, our embrace.

I have no idea what it means, but in a way, I do know that you secretly do love me.

and i want to stay here, indefinitely

Not in the embrace…well maybe. I wouldn’t mind just being in a long embrace.

I guess even loners need some human contact from time to time.

Gone gone gone.

* * *

I hope it makes you notice. I hope it’s going to make you notice. Someone like me.

My chest clenches, lungs gasps for the sweet air that was just knocked out of them. But nothing comes. I’m drowning on nothing and I can’t help myself.

I sit, relax, trying to gain some sense of control, but nothing comes.

One step. Two steps. Another and another.

Nothing.

I get in my car and sit, distancing myself away, succumbing to the fact that he’ll be gone, away from me for some time.

A week.

He’ll be gone for a week.

He’s been away from me longer.

Breathe. In. Out.

One breath at a time. Another and another.

A week.

He’ll be okay. He’s in trusted hands…I hope.

I’ve never left him there before. It’s new, but maybe he’ll like it. There are many of his kind there, many new friends to make.

The sweet tempered bringer of fears, with her tail stuck between her legs. She was so scared, but maybe He can coax her out of her shell, warm her up, open her soul.

I believe he can do that. He did it with me.

He’s my savior.

He’ll be okay.

He’s in good hands.

My lungs relinquish its hold and relax.

The sweet saccharine air gushes into me, filling me up. I can feel my blood surge with more energy, life, hope.

There’s something there that I can latch on.

My breath catches.

I’ll be okay.

He’ll be okay.

* * *

It’s time.

Time.

It has to be, ’cause it just has to be.

This can’t go on anymore, ’cause it’ll just go on forever and that is a long time to let things just go on.

* * *

use somebody

Maybe that’s just what I need to do, to just use somebody.

Maybe someone like you. Or maybe someone else who just understands what I need isn’t a permanent fix, but a Band-Aid over a gushing wound.

I just need to use somebody, anybody, to just keep me warm, to keep my occupied until the time comes for me to make up a decision.

There are no strings, no commitments. It is just this.

Maybe that’s what I need.

Just somebody.

oooOOohhHH I’m on fire.

As my body heats up, needing something to cool me down. I just need something to hold me over until my resting days so I just don’t have to think about it anymore.

It’s over. Just over.

* * *

Love times of skipping out on Ramen to go to another ramen.

Had dinner with the B5 the other night and overall it was just a great time. She had fun, I had fun. Just fun all around.

Dinner and then yogurt.

As I proclaimed to her, she would be perfect, just absolutely perfect if things were a little different. Maybe she can be someone I can use. She’s the somebody that I need to keep me occupied.

Maybe.

Oh oh oh I’m on fire.

I even got her to think about dog sitting for me, as we had a little lunch together, just talking and talking. Ahh, why can’t life be simpler?

If it was, then I guess it technically wouldn’t be life would it? Maybe not.

* * *

I’ll take another chance, take a fall, take a shot for you

Eventually I just realize that ultimately it is just too late. It is.

There’s no point, there’s no use…just grasping at straws.

The longing pangs of the hearts, the pulling of the strings as I linger on our chats and our actions. The obsessing over the little things, the little touches, the little smiles and jokes that are shared.

They are just sweet nothings that I can’t turn to something. They are just things now.

Things.

There are just things around us, everywhere.

We’re all surrounded by these things and from there, these things have no ultimate meanings. They are just things until we give them meaning. They are just words until we make them sweet whispers.

My intuition is deceiving me. I think I know better but I’m just clouded by my heart.

My emotions are taking over and I just need to toughen up, throw away this softness and get rougher around the edges.

I need to turn a cold shoulder, a cold heart into things.

I need to approach things a little more different, a little more distant.

I need this wall to go up again, to reinforce this damn, so nothing can come out of me and nothing can get to me.

I need to build myself this safe room and just let it all hang out. I just need to do it. Just do it. Do it.

It is what it is.

I know that and I can see that.

I can understand that.

Let’s just do it.

As the year is running down, it is just something that I have to do.

Man up.

Man up, I say.

Let’s do it.

* * *

Don’t stop believin’/Hold on to that feelin’

Holding on. Holding in.

I’m just holding on to something and I really don’t know what it is.

Is it that fluttery feeling of butterflies in my stomach that I get whenever I can make you smile, make you laugh?

That feeling of gaga-ness when my point of attack is working?

Or is it that feeling that you seem to just be focused on me and not much else as we talk our little talks, our usual catch-ups and sweet nothings?

Ahhh, the sweet nothings.

That pretty much sums me up.

Sweet nothings. The sweet nothings of words, of actions, of hope upon hope.

Hoping for the best, a bright future of romantic endeavors of the ideals.

Ahh LOVE.

L

O

V

E

It is just sweet nothings that I know nothing of. Just a tad, smidge, out of reach for this soul of mine ’cause it is so fractured and damaged that if it had it, it would just wear it down and tarnish it into something that isn’t what it really was.

Who am I to ruin something that is so pure?

Who am I?

* * *

I am in misery. There ain’t nobody who can comfort me.

Is there really anyone that can comfort me? Shouldn’t that be something that I should be myself.

Separate myself from any desires, reach the Zen state of mind that I, in a way, constantly search for and just BE.

Just BE.

Be.

Like a buzzing bee that buzzes around. BUZZ BUZZ annoying me. Keeping it in the back of my mind that it is Out there somewhere and I just need to keep my eyes open, my heart open, and just let people in.

Allow for the unexpected. Allow for someone. Allow to be hurt.

Just be who I am and allow for the impossible.

I am just holding myself back.

My heart just doesn’t want to hurt anymore, as it finally found some sort of solace or a drug that worked it’s magic, creating a balance of euphoric phorica of niceness and numbness that is just bearable, allowing me to function and just BE.

Buzz buzz.

* * *

Fire

Burning.

It just burns. That desire just burns like fire.

And like a caveman, I’m too afraid to extinguish it, to lose it forever and might not be able to get that desire back, even though in some sort of sick way, I need it.

I must have it. It’s the gas to my engine, keeping me going through this life.

There must be something to this thing called life. Maybe.

As I just sit here and type my life away, as the soft piano keys just tip-tap melodically in my ears, I sit exist.

Existing.

There’s not much to it.

Straddling this fine line. Something there. There’s just this.

There’s just this and I am to make the best of it.

That’s the most logical.

There’s just this.

* * *

If not now, then when…

It’s hot. Very hot.

Sweat pours out of my pores like a fat man in a sauna.

It’s hot, but I trudge on anyway, looking, searching. It has to be here, has to be. There’s no other place that I can lose it. I can’t lose it. It’s my life.

I decide to take a break and crack open a window, hoping that will work…

* * *

Poor attempt. Poor shot.

Not focused and too much thinking.

I continue on the tip-tap of these Joycian diatribes and try to pull something out of it.

Words flow. Words come easy. Whether they are good or not, I’m not sure, but these fingers are tapping away.

* * *

I don’t know if I can yell any louder….

Screaming. Yelling.

Hear me now…or not.

Really, I don’t have much to say. Just typing away.

Strangely enough, The Ghrofson has been asking me to lunch quite a bit lately.

Maybe it is just that she’s secretly in love with me and since she gave her notice, knows that she won’t be seeing me much anymore, so she’s packing in all the time that she can get.

Maybe. I’m sure she’ll be like whatever, but secretly she knows that my assumptions are true.

For the most part, I enjoy her company. We don’t do small talk, as we actually do talk about things.

I for the most part am open with most people, able to be open and honest. I really don’t have anything to hide, but it isn’t with everyone that I can have that kind of conversations with.

It has to be someone that I trust, like family, or close friends.

But, I don’t know…I just never thought I’d actually cry in front of her.

I did.

It’s not something I would like to do, cry in front of people, but sometimes it happens.

Maybe it was just because I was talking about dad and we all know I’m still a little fucked about that. I don’t know when I’ll be not fucked about it.

Maybe never.

But I did.

My voice trembled as I try to keep composed…not wanting to fully lose it.

Tears swell, on the verge, but none fell.

I turn away, apologizing, wiping them away.

I need to keep my emotions in check.

Hopefully I can, but I know I can’t.

For the most part, I’m just an emotional mess. My Emoness is a result of my big heart, always feeling for others. I’m an empath gone wild.

Sigh.

Sigh indeed.

Such a softie.

Blah, but I don’t know. I guess it has just been a while since my heart panged for my dad.

I know he’s constantly in my mind, but it’s been a while since I miss him.

* * *

It’s been a while.

It’s been a few weeks at least, me writing, putting words onto screen, the blank white of a new entry.

It’s been a while.

Even now, as I try to collect my thoughts, even during my morning walk, I can’t come to terms with what it is that I want to say.

Has it finally happen? Gone gone and done.

Words vanishing in my thoughts, in this collectiveness that is my brain, my consciousness?

Where have they gone?

I guess I’ll never know until I just finish and type away, hoping for the best.

* * *

zzzzz

The z’s that just creep up in me, my body, as it screams for more rest, more sleep.

This tired soul is done in trying to figure out what it is that it wants.

I have no clue. None at all.

So I sit here, at my usual place as I try to put these lingering thoughts into words, but they don’t come easy.

They’re putting up a fight, not wanting to face the bright light, wanting to go back to the darkness of their cave.

What is it that I want to say?

* * *

Lost my train of thought. Not like I had one.

Lost my knack for this again. The lyrical sing songs, once again, are no more.

Back to the tried and true, the straight forward words that will flow through my fingers.

What is it that I want to say? What is it?

* * *

Fear.

Holding me back.

The idea of losing someone.

Is that really it, or is there something else? Something that is much simpler?

I don’t want to be in a relationship, committed, being in it.

Is that it?

But that’s a lie. I do. I know I do.

There’s a large part of me that does want to, want it.

But where is it? Why don’t I act?

Am I just in a foolish hold out to find the right one? The one that will make me drop any or all pretentions I might have and just go for it?

Or am I just foolish to not see what it is that is in front of me? Girls that might be interested or girls that definitely are?

Me aiming lower?

What is it?

There’s always a solution, or am I just a lost and hopeless cause?

* * *

“Tom” is a vag

That’s probably one of the funniest things I’ve heard in a while.

I wonder how many people actually think of him that way.

I can understand where Ghrofson is coming from, ’cause in a way it is true.

He tries to make everyone like him. He does, he’s that guy.

But to call him a vag? Really?

Funny, none the less.

Maybe it is because I have the same feelings about Tom, him being him and my general distrust of him, but in a way, it made me feel good inside.

I don’t know how well Ghrofson knows him though to make that judgment. But, in a way it is pretty right on.

— A study group is forming, hugs and hugs pass along as they greet each other, preparing to buckle down, getting their groove mind meld of studying on….or is this just a social session. She didn’t come prepared as they jump to another table, leaving the studious one behind, bumping away, buds in, typing and typing away. —

* * *

B5

Tickles my heart with her cuteness….sigh.

* * *

Ms. D

Blah!

* * *

Not that I’m blahing her. I have no reason to blah her.

It’s just that I got distracted and did something else and then lost what I was going to write, and then I remembered it and then I feel that I don’t want to write it.

Blah.

* * *

Done done done.

Everything is done.

My life. The Origin Story.

Everyone has one.

It’s done.

Finished.

Out to curious eyes to peruse the story of how I got here.

It is just a waiting game now.

* * *

What is there to say, as I try to clear my mind?

It just seems that there is a general lack of something, a lack of umph, a lack of motivation in my life right now.

There’s just no desire to do anything, to get anything done.

That general procrastination is creeping into my life, sucking into my soul as I just go about my day, pondering what it is that is making me this way.

What is it?

I thought that maybe after my script I would be able to get back into things, to focus and do well at work, but there are just times when I don’t want to do anything.

But I manage to get by; doing the menial tasks that is asked of me, helping out wherever I can as I ignore the big things.

Sigh, maybe this general unfitness of this body of mine is just making my brain juices not float.

I don’t know what it is, but I think I’ll have to figure something out. Whether it is to start running and exercising again, to get back into shape, to get more energy.

I don’t know.

* * *

There’s this general tiredness in me, my body that I haven’t felt in a long time.

Afternoon naps after I get home.

My body just crashes if I don’t nap or when it comes time to go to bed.

Maybe it is the late nights that I put in when I am doing my writing and it is just finally catching up with me.

I don’t know what it is.

Maybe it because I do know that I am going to do some writing, so I have to stay up late, therefore I have to nap.

I don’t know what it is.

I don’t think there is a general ennui in me. It doesn’t feel like it.

Again, it’s just that lack of umph.

Umph!

Sigh.

* * *

Just read a paragraph from my last entry.

Funny, it’s stating exactly what I just stated before. The general blahness of things.

Hahaha. Too funny.

What is there to write? What is it that I want to say?

I don’t know.

I really don’t.

* * *

Life.

It just seems that life for me, for at least the past few weeks, maybe even months…or the past few years has been a blur.

Blink. Gone.

Like a time traveling Marty McFly, life just passes before me. A blink and months go bye.

I close my eyes and I’m back to the past, pondering my life, seeing how much I have changed. Bringing up memories in my mind’s eye, just thinking how things were a lot easier back then.

Life.

It’s funny.

After all the shit, after everything, life is hard, but ultimately life is funny.

It’s just the little things, the little insights to people, the little insights to yourself as you constantly go about your day, as you constantly push yourself, just a little bit, to live, to interact, to go on, to find oneself, and ultimately to BE.

Just being.

Life.

It’s funny.

* * *

Sigh.

The heart lingers as it always does.

It lingers on the unknown, but it also lingers on what is…lingering on the time shared and the talks of talks, the small joys and the little laughs.

The heart lingers, singing its song of jubilation mixed in with the dissonance of anxiety.

Anxious rumblings, not of insecurity, but more of the unknown.

The indecisiveness of my nature.

What is it that I want?

Will it be the most joyful union as my idealism romanticism put it or will it be just the raw nature of relationships? The push and pull or personalities. The compromises of life and philosophies. The share understanding silence.

What is it?

Is it not worth pursuing because it will never live up to perfection, the perfection of perfections that is in my head, the yearning of my heart?

Is it?

With joy, comes pain and vice versa.

Why can’t I just go for the nonchalant fun fun of danger and play?

Why can’t I just jump into this game?

Maybe in a way, I just don’t care.

I think that is ultimately what it boils down to. I don’t care cause I’m a creature of comfort and I’m comforted in the is-ness of me…now.

Here and now. It is what I have yearned for since my tender age. Might as will live it until that itching of change comes gnawing at my sanity.

Might as well.

* * *

“So, how strong is your vibrator?”

Then I proceed to laugh, at the innuendo and basically the words that came out of my mouth…’cause I can’t believe I asked that and it wasn’t even what I was going for.

“That’s inappropriate” as she laughs it off.

* * *

Momma. Just killed a man

Gone gone gone.

The me of the past is gone as I go about my business shedding my skin, molting into the new me, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, year by year.

New and new.

Changed forever.

A better specimen to brave the world.

* * *

My heart grows tired.

My heart grows weary.

My heart.

The strings were just pulled and pulled and pulled as things just tugs at these strings all weekend.

Shows and movies. Movies and shows. Just stories that just gets to my heart.

Tears.

It flowed.

Endlessly.

* * *

I don’t know what has gotten into me this past week. Maybe it is just the stress that I am feeling on the job, or maybe it is just the general ennui of things as of late, but I don’t know. There’s this sense of blahness that is going around.

There are feelings of just not caring about anything anymore, thoughts of just picking up and leaving, following my nomadic traditions.

It just happened. It just started.

Maybe it has to do with the Resource Tracker Database project that I am working on, or the Asian Republican is working on.

For some reason, he’s not getting the specifics that we are looking for. For some reason, I am trusting him to know what it is that we want. And for some reason, I’m not doing much about it.

As the cost of this project is ballooning, there’s just a part of me that cares, panicking, freaking out. It’s getting expensive. There’s another that feels crippled, bad, that I don’t know how to do it and can’t do it myself, and there’s another part that just doesn’t care anymore.

A meeting is on Monday, to discuss the scope of the project. Hopefully we’ll be back on the same page and will get this finished and off my plate soon.

Hoping.

* * *

Here I go, again, continuing.

I started the above about 2-3 weeks ago and here I am trying to finish it…or at least trying to continue the momentum that I started with.

What is there to write, what is there to say in the saying of these words that has been here for quite some time?

What is there to do?

I don’t think I know much of much anymore. Things just are happening in my life and I’m just letting it happen.

They aren’t anything bad or what not, not in the least.

They are just things. I guess this is what having some kind of life is about.

Things just happen.

* * *

Moving on.

It has finally hit that time of moving on.

Going forward. It’s here. It’s time. It’s now.

There’s no point in prolonging this, but there are times when I think maybe this is the miscommunication that keeps coming up. This is the miscommunication that is preventing things from happening.

Maybe I should be a little more forward, more direct, more of my usual-ness with people I don’t care for.

Maybe.

I wrote about this before. I know I have, but nothing much came of it as it is always on my mind.

My intuition is picking up something but it just can’t decipher it. It doesn’t know what to make of it.

Blah.

Blah I say. Just blahing to the blah of the mother fucking blahness of blah eternity.

As I sit with the Ghrof and then disclosing the one that’s in my heart, she just tells me to just move on.

Move on.

As I see her waiting for someone, giving the small side hug, then going to lunch, I just don’t know what to think.

Reading everything, taking everything in. Trying to come to a conclusion with all the information that I have.

It is time. Time to move on. It has to be.

No miscommunication here. Just signals of what needs to be done and that is moving on.

* * *

Picking up a new hobby.

Picking up a new distraction to keep things at bay.

Picking up a newness to keep me quarantined into my cave.

Guitar — strumming the strings to make my heart melt.

It is what it is as I try this new found musicness that is in me, letting these rhythms in my head and my desire to have some kind of musical abilities out.

It’s not coming along.

It’s been a week and I’ve learned a few things, but also, I’m not even close to getting it.

I know it’ll take a lot of work, but damn, I have no rhythm to make things work, to bring everything together. My timing is always off.

Talk about my life…timing is always off.

* * *

Under the weather.

There’s an ugliness inside of me, making me fatigued, wrecking my brain, my thoughts.

There’s not a cohesiveness to anything anymore as my mind runs rampant, trying to figure things out.

Do you love me or do you love him?

As little kids sit next to me, playing their little games in this little adult world.

I can’t piece together any thoughts at all.

Nothing comes to me.

Nothing.

* * *

Health.

Results shows that I’m doing well.

I am still lacking Vitamin D.

Thinking about the connection between the lack of sun, the lack of vitamin D, and the link to depression, I have a feeling my moods might be linked to this lack of vitamin D.

I think I’m gonna start taking vitamins and see if that will help things out a bit.

I’m not saying that I’m depressed, no. I’m not. I’m not even close to depressed or the way that I have felt in the past, but there’s a general consensus that I’m a very ennui person.

Maybe that is what they are picking up from.

I need to start taking supplements and see what the haps.

It’s kind of funny, I know the reason why I would be Vitamin D deficient up in Seattle. The general lack of sun has that effect, but down here, in SoCal, sunny Los Angeles?

I guess I really am a hermit, keeping in my little sanctuary cave that I have built for myself.

Funny.

I guess I just needed to go out more….or maybe not.

* * *

BLAH.

FUCKING BLAH.

BLAH.

Life.

It’s long lived, and living is a long and tumultuous journey of up and down roller coasters of coasting and seeing and experiencing.

Life.

* * *

Here I am.

My place.

My usual.

With half my usual. The tea of green, sucking it down, living it up, typing away in my lyrical nonsense that I think I might be getting back into. This is a time for celebration.

A time to celebrate life as I take a break from it. Living the slowed down pace that I am use to, the snail’s pace of just living just outside of life, of the happenings and going ons and ons.

Life.

I am here, in this Volcano typing away, in my usual usual groove.

Life.

It feels normal, it feels natural. It feels like the way that it should be.

Filled with drama, filled with the tumultuousness that makes life interesting; the stuff that movies are made of.

Love. Action. Drama. Comedy.

Welcome to my movie.

It’ll be a tired, slow paced, artsy-fartsy, independent style of nature with a mixed bag of everything.

It definitely won’t be for the masses, for it wasn’t catered to it. It’s catered to those who may have interest to just have a peek into what it is that I am about.

It is what it is.

There’s no apology for it. I’m not apologizing for it.

Not at all.

Just a senseless rambling ramblings.

Gone gone.

* * *

Ahhhh, to be able to type away freely in the comfort of this client.

This little chat client on the Windows side. Semagic.

OSX.

There isn’t really a great one, an easy one like this one, the one I am in love with.

Quoma or some other spelling that is similar.

Typing away typing away.

I just love the semi HTMLness of it. The ease of just typing without any shortcuts and just typing along with the semi-coding that I do.

Love love love.

* * *

Routine.

Life, at least for me, is a series of events tied together. These events are very routine. The usual of the usu…

But tis my life; tis is me; tis is it.

Coming here on the weekends, typing away, sometimes with distractions, other times not, just typing away.

It seems for the most part, my life is just a series of typing away. Typing away.

Type type type.

Putting thoughts into words, connecting the dots, trying to figure out what it is that I want to say or trying to find that elusive direction.

Am I lost again?

Am I at another quandary that I can’t find my way out of?

I don’t know.

Things seem different.

Things seem strained ever since the trip.

Things seem very quiet — always searching, like a hanging silence that shouldn’t be there, but it’s just a deafening silence.

Things are amiss.

I can try to figure it out, which I do in my background processess, but there are times where I just have to let things play out. Things will just have to play out and then I’ll come to a realization that things weren’t really much different at all, that things weren’t WRONG to begin with and it’s just my hypersensitivity of spider senses tingling into extra full force on-ness picking up things that isn’t there.

I think I just need an adjustment, a fine tuning, trying to find the right frequencies of proper working order.

I’m broken and need a fixing.

* * *

Mindless ramblings.

I know it is a senseless thing that I am doing here; this senselessness of typing words for the sake of typing words.

But I don’t know, it is just something that I need to do. It is just something that I have to do; to get whatever it is that is in me fighting to get out, out of my system.

OUT.

My thoughts. My brain. My mind.

It’s full and I need to purge purge purge everything. I need a clear mind. I need something so I can focus on other things, like work.

From the past post and this one, I may have found that -ness that I have been searching so long for in these blog entries of mine.

It’s back.

The sing song madness of mindlessness is back.

Chubby baby wiggling for joy in his mother’s arms.

Wiggling Wiggling away as I just sit here, as the two girls are silently waiting for their new clients and waiting for their orders.

Tea.

That’s what they serve. Their drug of choice and I’m a fiend, needing my fix. Needing this lost solace of mine, this emptiness of place, freedom from distraction, typing away, clearing my thoughts.

Clearing away.

Erasing. Formatting.

Looking out the window, as another distraction will come my way.

Small petite Asian.

Distraction indeed.

Sneaking a peek and worth the sneaking for the peek.

* * *

New found audiences.

Not knowing with this is all about.

Just reading along. Not use to the sing songs of yore, but more use to the direct interims of life and what the haps in my daily, weekly, monthly grindings of what I am.

Making no sense.

I’m sure not all of my future posts will be like the last couple and I’m sure that eventually things will get back to the forwardness that I am capable of, listing the things that are on my mind in a more direct way.

Eventually things will get there and I’m not in a rush to get there.

Let me enjoy this rambling. It’s been lost for a long time. I’m just soaking it in, enjoying it before it leaves these fingers for another hiatus.

I guess it is the jumbleness of what is in my mind, with the different subjects at hand, trying to figure stuff out and not knowing where to start or what it is that I am trying to find.

* * *

Answers.

I just need answers.

I have questions, and I just hate it when I can’t figure out the answers. It just frustrates me, so I just sit and think, coming up with solutions that never seem proper or just never work. Solutions come and then solutions go.

It just never happens that I get the right answer.

It’s always been a problem of mine, especially when it comes with people.

If I can’t figure them out, it just frustrates me more.

For the most part, I can read people well. My intuition just does what it does, tingling spider senses, telling me this and that with unbelievable accuracy.

But sometimes, it doesn’t work that way. Feelings get mixed in, emotions get mixed in and it just clouds these conclusions that I jump to, creating doubt, not knowing, frustration.

Ahhhh!

Frustration.

What is it?

I can never figure it out. Again, I will have my theories, but they are just theories until I have tested them and they then turn into law. Until then, they will just be theories or even hypothesises until time comes for them to be tested and then I will finally know the truth…or at least the truth to my questions.

Eventually, things like these won’t bother me anymore.

Eventually, I’ll just be able to let things go, not let them bother me at all. Eventually.

They just aren’t happening right now.

I would say about 80% of the time, I don’t care, but then there are others and I’m just like, fuck, shit, what the what, what the haps?

And those are the times that frustrate me.

* * *

Time is running out.

The ticking keeps ticking and soon, it’ll run to the time that I’m usually done, out of here, away from things, back into another routine of mine.

Soon.

Tying things up, finishing things up.

Soon, things will just be a bygone memory. Soon, things will be something, just something that I will eventually ignore, something that I will just let me.

Whatever will be, will be.

Soon.

* * *

What does it mean?

The flickering mind movies of mine.

I know it has a lot to do with being in the mind, taking up my thoughts, but overall what does it mean?

Maybe they are just wishful yearnings that manifest themselves in my mind’s eye.

Putting situations together to show how much she means to me, or how much I think of her.

Putting her in that pedestal, like most of the girls in John Green novels, but realizing when it is too late that she isn’t or will never live up to that image that we have of her, only seeing the side that we want to see, the side that makes our hearts go pitter patter, but not the full story, that may taint her image in our mind’s eye.

Maybe.

But isn’t that, shouldn’t that be something that we come to find out once we have the experience to get a chance to see more of her, see her in a different light?

Maybe.

Life.

It comes and it goes.

Life.

Time.

It ticks.

Tick.

Tock.

Writing.

I wanted to try and write something today, this morning, but it never happened.

I was focused on writing something, but nothing really came.  The thoughts just pooled in my head, my brain; swimming and coasting but these finger taps never came in the short time that I had.

Distractions.

A call tore me away.  A call killed the drive, the urge to put finger to keys to press to words – sentences – paragraphs.  Getting my thoughts out of this brain of mine into this void of 1s and 0s.

It never came.

Now I sit here, not in my usual place of typing, but in my home trying to get into the grove, trying to find the words that I needed to say; the thoughts that were swimming in my mind just a few hours ago.

*    *    *

Flickering mind images startled me last night.  Not in the way of nightmares or tremors, but in a different way, a way I wasn’t expecting.

It was another flickering mind movie that involved family and Ms. D. 

It’s been a while since those two combinations happened, but it happened. 

The first, was me introducing her to my mom.  This one, I’m standing up for her to my Auntie, because my Auntie was upset that Ms. D did something.

I don’t think she did anything wrong, it was just that Auntie was annoyed.

She, with family, interacting with family, like she is mine, with me, my partner, my girl, my wife.  Mine.  A part of my life.

What does it mean?

I don’t know.

She’s just on my mind I guess, constantly on my mind. 

*    *    *

Don’t want to think, don’t want to think.

It’s neither here nor there that she’s in my dream.  She’s just on my mind and there’s nothing I can do about it.

*    *    *

So I sit here, trying to piece together my thoughts, to empty this mind of mine that has been tired as of late. 

Empty.

Nothing flows as I try to get into this habit of typing out letters on a keypad, as I try to continue on my journey of finishing my script and emptying my ramblings and contemplations out in this void of mine.

Getting back into it, getting back into the groove.  It shouldn’t be so hard as I try to write cohesive thoughts into this blog of mine, but again, it has been difficult as of late.

My last entry flowed with the excitement that I once had for these type of things.  The strong conviction of my thoughts put down in this blog, but now, with each finger, with each press, with each letter, I wonder, if that was the right thing that I wanted to say.

There’s no focus.  There’s nothing that ties anything together.

Even in my previous writings and ramblings, my previous oh lyrical style of yore I was able to just finger tap with gusto, putting my thoughts down in a cohesive focused nature even though they were just jingle jangle of rambling thoughts with their little cute hidden meanings that I only know.

The cryptic sing songs of someone that has lost his mind and is trying to find it by emptying his stream of conscience out of the way, hoping that he can at last figure what it is that he wants, and where it is that he is going.

What happened to those lost days?

My brain just doesn’t seem to want to work that way anymore.  What is wrong with that way? 

Was it just a immature trapping of a fledgling new writer and that I am now more matured, more direct, more succinct in my thoughts and my finger tappings?

Wishing.

Hoping.

Why don’t things these words just come easier? 

*    *    *

…and now all I want to see is a sky full of lighters…

Searching in this ever long search of searches, finding the ever elusive findings of things hidden in the hidden nature of my heart.

Ramble ramble.

These sing songs aren’t going anywhere fast but they just need to go and get where they need to go. 

My thoughts just need to flow and flow into this pool of ideas and free me from this cage that I seem to have locked my self in.

He shot me down. BANG BANG.  I hit the ground. BANG BANG….

Goes the words that is softly whispered into these deaf ears of mine.  BANG BANG…

It is an awful sound indeed.  I use to shoot myself down down…indeed.

Shot and bleeding.  Dying.  Bleeding out, with the pains of pangs that I am quite familiar with, but they simply don’t hurt anymore.  They just don’t hurt.  They just linger and pass, faint, as if it really isn’t anything at all.

Those heart pangs just seem to disappear, as I can just sit there, with you in proximity and in a way, not be uncomfortable as I just sit and socialize with the others in the group.

*    *    *

How deep is your love?

Sing songs of quiet rumblings that erupts in these ears of mine. Coming to me in this warm summer night breeze. 

I ask again.

How deep is your love?

*    *    *

Never.

It’s just never. 

Never indeed.

Always.

Always just a few feet away, off in another conversation, separated by separation and just off, each aware of each other, but just off.

We can never be like how we usually are when we are together, but in a way, we just act like we are these distant strangers that only come together once in a while in these off chance meetings of get togethers and hiyas-howyas and there’s nothing more between us.

Yeah, I’ll tell you something that I think you’ll understand…

What is it?

Say to me…

Please.

Say to me…

Please.

Now let me hold your hand.  I want to hold your hand.

These soft words, sung, not by the fab, but by the horrendous movie musical, but best song of the bunch.  The T.V. Carpio that sings to my heartstrings, pulling the rhythms, culling the timbre, crying the words and tearing at the yearnings that is in my heart.

Pluck me out of this misery and let me fall asunder. 

*    *    *

Ramblings and ramblings. 

Resemblance of the ones of yore, the old ones that I am trying to get back.

The just mindless mind ramblings and thoughts of mental diarrhea that I am use to. 

The mixture of musical lyrics mixed in with my tapping lyrics, creating the emotions that I can easily manipulate, only going when the words that flow into my ears fit the equation that I am trying to make, to solve the issues, to come up with a solution to this little problem that I am having.  The problems of the PANG.

BANG BANG.

Bang bang indeed.

*    *    *

Back to me, back to here, back to now. 

Come away with me…

To me.  Here.  Now.

Come away.  Here and now, with me, here and now.

Coming back to this old mind of mine, putting the pieces together, putting me together, trying to get me going, rejuvenated into the me that I am finally growing accustomed to.

Me. 

Coming back.

Coming away.

Soon, will I even resemble myself.

Will it be me staring back when I stare at you?  Will you even recognize me as I constantly change and hardly recognize myself. 

Me yesterday is not the same as the me the month before, nor the year prior or the many year before.  The man staring back at me now, my reflection, is definitely someone that I have only a vague recollection of.

He is someone that looks like he knows what he’s doing, someone who seems to have a life that is worth living.

He sure took me by surprise the first time that I actually got a good glimpse at him.

He definitely looks like a man that I surely would like to be.

He is me.  I am him.  We are we.  Let us be.

One.

*    *    *

It’s a heartache…

It’s a fool’s game…

I’m a fool, standing in a the cold rain. 

Dancing, getting wet, jumping for joy. 

The quirky quirk of mine, celebrating the things that many would just whine about, the wetness of wet precipitation palpitating down on the earth, drenching everything in the refreshing our mother Earth’s wonderful tears of joy and sometimes angered sadness.

These are just emotions that she needs to shed, and eventually it cleanses our soul, washing away the problems that we may have.

Like us, standing in the rain, boom box (or ipod/ipad speakered-up now-a-days) in hand, arms extended, blasting without shame, without embarrassment, that sappy love song that just moves us, hoping that it moves her too.

The sentimental man that will do anything to win, to win, in this game of fools. 

It’s all just a game, played by fools.  There’s no winners here.

Only mindless, blind fools with nothing to lose.  Unafraid of baring one’s soul.

Say you want the same thing too.  Say you feel the way I do.

*    *    *

My time is on a schedule.

Seconds tick by, as I wait, wait for the allowed NEXT.

NEXT.

As I try to patiently suffer through my punishment by doing other things, like these finger tapping breakdancing of mind thoughts, to scouring the web for thing that keep my interest, so I can just let the seconds tick my so I am allowed to click NEXT.

NEXT.