Monthly Archives: January 2012

Blue Monday Sure Lives Up to its Name

I’ve never quite dissolved into nothing the way I have now. No notion of an impregnated sow. I will never feelmy procreation suckle at my feet.

I’d like to get paid for my opinion.

I speak for the mediocre, the gen. pop.of the world.

Subsisting in a lateral sphere that you can’t possibly begin to fathom.

I, for all intrinsic purposes, am irrelevant – no one will notice when I’m gone.

Fuck the memorial

Get drunk off your face

Imbibe or just observe

Let your wander lust take you away.


I’m old school, I still like to take pen to paper – I think cursive writing is much more sensual, there’s something about the way the pen glides across the page – riding over it, going back to dot the i’s and the t’s that cannot be supplanted. Haha I was so engrossed in writing that the ink started to freeze and I had to come inside, so lost in the frenzy that the only reason I started to take note was for the fact that my ink was running out and my pen was starting to jump across the page, irritating and distracting. The stilted movement just serving to remind me of how stilted I have become.


My friend Ben said – my apartment looks like “a ten-year-old Japanese girl’s place”.

Dance This Mess Around

She comes all twisted and undone walking through the door like there’s no tomorrow. She’s all confusing bound up in confidence but looking spent and she drifts by you without you noticing per se but you feel it, like a soft gust of wind, gentle on your face, which gives you pause but only for a moment and then – she’s omniscient writhing on the dance floor, a force to be reckoned with as she moves with abandon, like no one you’ve ever seen. Lost in delight, writhing to the rhythm, you envy her comfort and overt display without knowing that she is trying to dance the pain away. The booze, the drugs, the rampant sex – short answers to a long torment that begins and ends with her – but a total conundrum because in order to be truly happy she has to love herself above everyone else and everyone she has ever loved, for the most part, has been flawed – not just natural human blips – flawed to the point that they are incapable of loving her the way she so wantonly desires. And so the circle perpetuates, the cycle continues and the dance floor, thankfully, always waits for her and never lets her down.

And p.s. what she said …

Actually, it’s dancing and cleaning that help me feel like I have a semblance of control amid the strife and chaos that is the life of someone trying to survive in a city of 3 million plus without succumbing to the notion that I am no one. It’s so easy to feel insignificant in a place like this. It’s so easy to be discarded in a time when people have the attention spans of fleas and are always looking for the next high, the next stimulation, more money, more stuff …. nothing that really has to do with our essence, who we are – what defines our soul.

I want to learn again how to languish in my solitude – what it means to be contemplative. I yearn to be somewhere much more isolated so that my energy is its own and does not resonate with so many so close by that it becomes a task to distinguish self and what those desires are. I miss me

I find it very unfortunate that I cannot put songs to go with the various thoughts that I am describing here, somehow it seems lacking. Everyone should have a theme song, a mantra and a goal. But most of all everyone should feel the need and desire to be happy.

By the way my mantra song is Spitfire by Prodigy “’cause you know that I can!”

This is it

Almost 50 years old and starting over … again. I’m so tired of fighting with mediocrity because I’ve just up and settled. Just this side of apathy and doing a tight-rope walk of depression. All my hopes and dreams still exist they’ve just almost faded into an ethereal state so I’m just lingering, like the mists on the water … barely there.

I was hoping that if I ever started a blog it would be borne out of enthusiasm a joie de vivre, not because I needed something that would give me a thread to the masses so I didn’t feel completely undone – but it wasn’t and I did it to stave off drinking myself into an alcoholic coma (that I would hopefully never come out of).

And the words “this is a test, this is only a test” keep reverberating through my mind. With the theme song “Is That All There Is?” playing in the background.